Intentions in Architecture Christian Norberg-Schulz

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 Contents

Preface 7

1. Introductio n II

II. Backgro und

1. Perceprion
2. Symbolization 53

III. Theory
1. Towards an integrated theory of architecture.
2. The building task
3. Form
4. Technics
5. Semantics
6. The architectural totality

IV . O utlook .
1. Experience ' 95
2. Production 2 01

3. Analysis
4. Education

Bibliography 225

Index 233

Ill ustrations 243

Preface

The present study has grown out of the concrete problem s an architect
encounters in his profession. We do not, in the first place. think of the
technical difficulties which have to be surmounted in connection with
any building task, but we rather have in mind the problem of defining
the task, and of deciding whether a planned or completed solution is
satisfactory. In both cases we have to take into consideration ' practical '
and "artistic ' needs which concern the architect as well as society and
the individual client . Today we lack a real basis for this procedure, and
the result is a rather discouraging' debate' where the parties talk at cross
purposes without arriving at fruitful , mutu ally helpful approaches to the
problem. In other words, we lack a satisfactory theory of architecture.
Under the continual pressure of new demands, most professions have in
our time had to develop comprehensive theoretical' tools' . Our architectu-
ral solutions, however, are still the result of more or less accidental
improvisations. T he architects have shown themselves rather unwilling
to work out a theoretical basis for their field, mostly because of the pre-
judice that theory kills the creative faculty. In the present study an
attempt will be made to prove that this view is erroneous.
While our practical problems have to a certain degree been analyzed,
architecture also comprises important' environmental ' problems which so
far have by no means been adequately investigated. T herefore, I originally
assigned myself the task of discussing' the psychological background of
architecture '. During this work , however, it became clear that this aspect
cannot be separated from the practical side of the matter, and that archi-
tecture both as a problem and as ready solutions, must be considered as
a whole, of which the individual parts are mutually interdependent. The
present study has therefore developed into an attempt to present an ordered
survey of all the ' dimensions ' which may be imagined to enter a work

7
of architecture. It aims at general validity. and any architectural solution
may be understood as a special case which is covered by the theory. In
other words, I attempt to bring order into that complex of ends and means
which the concept ' architecture ' comprises. The study therefore gives the
outlines of a conceptual scheme which may be used to analyze building
tasks as well as finished works; and I address myself both to the practising
architect and to the architectural historian. It must be stressed that the
purpose is not to solve the problems. Th e stud)' is neither a ' textbook '
of architecture, nor an historical survey. Th e intention is only to organize
the subject-matter in order to arrive at a common basis for collaboration
in solving the problems. Th e study, therefore. is theoretical in the real
sense of the word. The theory should open our eyes ' to the richness of
the possibilities, rather than support ready-made rules and cliches.
T o enable us to see the connections between the theory and our con-
crete empirical problems, the study opens with a short account of the
present architectural situation, and concludes with an ' outlook ' on the
pcwible applications of the theory. These parts of the study (I and IV)
pretend neither to be exhaustive, nor to 'explain' the actual situation.
Th ey only have the purpose of giving the study a wider frame of reference.
Only in part III, the theory proper, have I attempted to carry through
a comprehensive presentation. Because of the vastness of the problem, it
naturally remains a 'skeleton ' which should be completed through future,
more detailed research. Part II results from the necessity of applying
scientific methods, and of basing the architectural theory on information
from other fields. H ence, methodological, psychological, sociological and
semiotical information is presented, which in my opinion should belong
to the general educational background of any architect or architectural
historian. It was found convenient to separate these topics from the theory
proper, in order to make the latter more lucid. All comments and quota-
tions are collected in notes. These have become rather numerous, but
only in this way could the main text be given a coherent and clear form.
The theory is derived from my knowledge of architecture, that is,
from a limited knowledge of a limited number of examples. The theory
therefore has to be tried out and refined through application in the largest
possible number of concrete cases. This 'successive approximation' is

8
necessary if a satisfactory theoretical tool is to be found . I believe I have
established a point of departure, and given the opportunity I shall continue
the research through extensive investigations of ancient and contemporary
architecture.
I wish to express my thanks to T he Norwegian Research Council for
Science and the H umanities for a two-year travelling fellowship, which
made it possible to collect the historical material which gives substance
to the study. The work would hardly have been possible without the
inspiration I received as a pupil of S. Giedion at the Eidgenossische
Technische Hochschule in Zurich. The idea of seeing architecture as a
general cultural phenomenon has been born through innumerable discus-
sions with Dipl. Ar ch. E. Neuenschwander (Zurich) , Professor A. Korsmo
(T rondheim), Professor A. Dorner (ex-Benning ton College), H. MjcIva
(Oslo), S. Fehn (Oslo), Professor B. L. Mohr (Tro ndheim), H . Ryvarden
(Trondheim), and Dr. A. Brenna (Oslo). Special thank s go to Professor
H . P. L' Or ange (Rome), Professor Mies van der Rohc (Chicago), Professor
Ph. Frank (Cambridge, Mass.), Professor T. Parsons (Cambridge, Mass.),
Professor T . Maldonado (Ulm), and above all to O. Skardal (Oslo), who
made the author understand the fruitfulness of the psychological and
sociological approach to art and architecture. T hanks are also due to the
authors of those wr itings which have been of special importance to the
study, above all E. Brunswik, C. Morris, G. Paulsson, H . Sedlmayr, R.
Wittkower, D. Frey, L. Mumford, J. Piaget, J. Jorgensen, M. Wertheimer,
and L. Wittgenstein. The study is furthermore based on my experience
as a teacher and lecturer at Th e State School of Arts and Crafts (Oslo),
Hochschule fur Gestaltung (U1m), The University of Oslo, T he Technical
University of Norway (T rondhcim), and as a Smith-Mund t-Fulbright
scholar at Harvard University (Cambridge. Mass.).

Rome, December I I
1. Introduction
The present situation of architecture is confused and puzzling. From th,
client we hear constant complaints about the architects' lack of ability
[ 0 satisfy him, from a practical as well as from an aesthetical and econo-
mical point of view. I The authorities give us to understand that it is
often doubtful whether the architects a~ qualified to solve the problems
which society poses. 2 And the architects themselves disagree on issues so
fundamental that their discussion must be interpreted as an expression
of groping uncertainty. The disagreement does not only concern the
so-called aesthetic' problems, but also the fundamental questions of how
man should live and work in buildings and cities. l It is also characteristic
that architectural education has been under revision for a long time. New
didactical principles are wanted. but the ends and means are in dispute. 4
All these symptoms unite to indicate a confusion in our environment
which we do not agree about how to unravel. The unified character we
know from the cities and architectural lay-outs of the past is becoming
a dying memory. 5
The result of this situation is that the architect is hardly accorded the
same recognition as other specialists with an equally high education.
Many look upon him as a necessary evil' , with the sole task of trimming
the ideas of the client. And in writing and speech he is pointed out as
responsible for the inconveniences and monotonous confusion of our
present-day environment. Many architects, on the other hand , pay scanty
respect to the taste and wishes of the client, and maintain that he has
to be ' educated' . 6
The situation is very unfortunate. The absence of mutual confide nce
between the parties and the lack of opportunity to co-operate on a common
basis will of course: reduce the chances that new buildings and lay-outs
13
I Stt the in troducricn to S. Giedion: A Dff'-
tldc 0/ NCIII Arrhitmuu 19J7-1~7. Ziilich
195
2 In f inl:lnd . howev~ . thi . ..sput of the
l.iru..tion i. very positi...,. Stt E. 6: C. Neu -
enschwander: Fi,,,,i,rhc & uu " / Atdie-
Alt'/lr Atllto '950-5' . ZUrich 1954. pp. 5 if.
l The n~ ideas brought fonh by the
architects of the modern movement have
cTuted strong ro nlroy=ics. To adYOCate their
views more efficiently. the ID(xk rn architects
fou nded the Ccngres Inter n:u:io""w: d'Archi.
tecture Moder nc (Cl AM) in 1<pS. See S. Gie.
dton : Inu-oduction to J. L. Serr: CtI" Our
Cilia SlU'tin? Cm!bridge 19+4.
4 Th e discuss ion of architectural educatio n
was in itiated by W..lter Gr opius in Uu und
Au/hau dn St<Ultlirh ~" & uhtlusn Wnm41'.
Munchen 1923.
1 5 The ch:IDS of our modem environment u
beilliamlj analyzed in Scrr: op. cit. See also :
L. Mumf ord : Thc Culturc 0/ Citin . New
Yor k 1938.
6 . ... the public .till think s in terms of
conventional appearance. and reason on thc
fouD<l<Itions of an inm fficicnt educaricn ".
I.e Corbu.ier : Towaras a N~w A rt hitutllu .
London l y27. p- 21.

may fulfil their purposes in a satisfactory way. For the architects them-
selves it is depressing to have to work without any objective criticism
and self-criticism. Let us consider the single points in more detail.
THE CLIENT
When the client criticises, words like 'unpractical ', ' ugly' , and ' expen-
sive' are frequent.
The practical or fun ctional criticism is due to a lack of correspondence
between the current way of life and the existing ' architectural frame'.
Thi s lack of correspondence may of course stem from shortcomings in
the architectural frame, inasmuch as it does not allow certain functions
to be carried out. But it also often happens that man prefers an anti-
quated ' way of life, although he thereby comes into conflict with the
environment and misses new values. 1 And we know that particular envi-
ronmental needs may induce man to accept highly 'unpractical' living
conditions. Th is suggests that the architect should not as a matter of
course satisfy the functional or environmental wishes of the client.
The aesthetic criticism is also directed against deviations from the
habitual. Without further justifications most new solutions are deprecated
and labelled as architects' fancies. Or the critics go to the other extreme
and talk about ' greyness' and ' monotony' . 9 T he layman thus asks for
an architecture which is at the same time ' normal' and unusual. In any
case he surely does not find satisfaction in the so-called modern archi-
tecture'. But at the same time it is rather obscure what he sus in the
beloved architecture of the past. 10 H is point of view hardly coincides with
that of the art historian, but shows itself on closer scrutiny to be based
upon a few characteristic attributes with which he associates particular
meanings. II These meanings will generally appear superficial and primitive
to the architect, and it is a fact that both architects and artists react against
following the ' ruling taste'. 12 The problem, however , is not made more
simple by saying that the aesthetic criticism of the client is due to prejudices.
The econom ical criticism is connected with what 011~ gets for one's
money . We are willing to pay more if we obtain satisfaction of our
subjective environmental needs. I.l The economical conditions, therefore,
'4
'7 T he planne r who wants to improve the
d..... dlings of pnso n5 who ha,t gIo.....n up
und er vtr y pli miti'"t condit ions often encou n-
Ins tht difficulty that they do not want to
live ' ocr' t I (d iffn cntly) than they are us.W
to . In :M~ t er~ e. 18.000 of tht 30,000 inha
bita ms lived in caves in 1 9S~ . To im prove
the conditio ns Ii~t modern ~ilIagts .....tre buill
lIta rby. The cave-dwellers, howt~n , fell
Inndy and dtprlval of tht ir social relations
in tht ntW tn~ironmtnt. "Preferisec 13 mia
grcrea, il min vitin ato ' , was the standing
uprts<inn. see G. Pio~tnt : Viaggio in lrali...
~Iilano 1957, p. 578. .
a In l'orway it W 3$ common with in certain
.o.;i3\ groups to r=Vt ont of the rooms of
tht lI.:n 3$ .. du wing-room. t un if this com-
petted ~l$ :;",d children to sleep wgcthcr.
S O. Brochm:tnn: Mcnn ed:~ og hoIiger,
Oslo 1'}4 8 .
9 Both criticisms ~t often jU5u fiai. but the
di... ppro~a\ of the pu blic :>1"" usually rtfe"
to solutions whio:h the al'<:hitocts find posithe.
10 Th e au mor once showed a grou p of
Romans .. s1idt of mt doisttr of s. Onofrio
in Romt . ahhougb they hsd all visited rhe
place. they W a"C un ..b1t to tcll what the slKk
rt prtu:ntal. One person wh o had nprcs.'ro
~o:ry d t ar opinions about :an and architectwe,
.u ggested that Wt were looking at a photo.
graph of the cloister of S. P:>o10 fuori It m ura.
II It is common that work , of ar l arc cv ..
luated ..o:<:aIding to Iht rr size and the prt-
ti oumcss of mt materials t mplo}n1. See E.
Brunlwik : Wahrnehmung und GegenltanJr-
well. Witn 1934.
12 see S. GiNlion: ' Ud x:r den htrr ><:hclIdcn
Geo<;bmaek ' , ill Architekl ur und Gemein-
Ichall , Hamb urg 1956, pp. 12 fr.
B Th t publk success of ' pec\lbt i~t housing-
developments is ctrtainly not only d ue to the
ecOllomical factor, but also to the fact that
most speculative builders a im at satisfyillg
tht ' ruling ta,t t '.
 14 He alway. hal to integrate new ex~i
are relative, rather than absolute (within certain limits). Thus even economy
ences in a 'Y'lern nf previou. ex~ienee$ .
does not give us any clear directions how to build. And in most cases we What i. completely new, remain. inacceible.
can also choose between many different solutions which cost the same. 15 During early industrialization ill the
Although the client' s criticism of the architects and their products is nineteenth century, ro'H'~ll tiollal
form. were
made with new technical means. Factory-
imprecise and subjective, we should not call it irrelevant. It has sprung made ornam ents became a standard article.
from concrete situations, and shows better than any other symptom that Later , reehnical and economical factors haYe
helped the developm ent of forms which better
our present-day architecture does not participate naturally in a unified and fil the indmtri2liuxl means of produetion.
ordered environment. But we may assert that the criticism in most cases See S. Giedion : M !ulnization Takes Com-
manJ . New York 1948.
has a certain narrowness of view. Generally the client will criticise on
the basis of his personal needs without recognizing that his project in
many ways forms a part of a larger whole. H e is therefore not conscious
of and amenable to the new possibilities the architect can offer him,
possibilities which may only become manifest after a long period of getting
accustomed to the finished product. Man has a conservative character, 14
and we experience today a 'commu nication-gap' between the larger part
of the public and those architects who go, if only very slightly, beyond
me most conventional solutions. At the same time it is a fact that an
ever-increasing number of architects are forced to find new solutions on
technical and economical grounds. 15
T he relationship between the client and the architect will of course
differ from place to place, and depends upon the role-distribution within
me society concerned. Generally, however, we may assume that the architect
should not only fulfil the needs of which the individual client is conscious.

THE SOCIETY

The cnncrsm of the society or of the authorities differs from that of

the client, although it is also offered by individuals. The authorities may
co a certain degree free themselves from purd y personal interests, mainly
by pointing out a lacking fulfilment of common needs, such as ' an inadc-
quate number of dwellings'. Th e authorities can, for instance, give their
opinion on solutions they do not know from direct experience, but which
they recognize as unsuccessful on the grounds of practical and economical
information. Their criticism is therefore more objective, as it takes into
consideration factors concerning many individuals with different attit udes,

15
and as it aims at commo n measures. \ Ve should remember, however, that
this criticism necessarily reflects prevailing political and economic theories,
and therefore also particular interpretations (conscious or unconscious) of
what suits society better. 16 T he subjective environmental needs of the
public may also influence these theories in such a way that the common
measures reveal themselves through a closer scrutiny as a mere satisfaction
of habitual wishes. 17 T hc authorities thus rarely realize that common
needs frequently have to be satisfied in unconventional ways in order to
mak e the solution effective.
We often hear that present-day society is chaotic, and that this fact
must lead to architectural disorder. The argument is superficial. Any
society necessarily has a particular structure ' which should find a
correspondi ng physical frame. Its chaotic aspects are often due to the
lack of this correspondence. IA
In general we may say that society makes demand s which transcend
the understanding and wishes of the individual; but these demand s are
usually badly formulated and not distinguished from the ruling taste '.
T his also holds true for those building tasks where society confronts the
architect with' aesthetic' and environmen tal problems. 19
16 It i. abo~e all d iocuueO whemer the fr:
expression of the indi ~idual aid. the fello"...hip.
17 ' My home is my castle' is an important
trad itional sentiment in man y count ries. The
inhabitants of the large cuies therefore . pre:l.d
in extensive suburbs with relatively small
houses, Dot minding the ptKtiatl difficulties
created.
18 In other words, it is a/war~ p"uib/" to
define socially de termined building tasks
which should be translated' into architectural
solutions,
19 Sec $. Giedion: ' Die ncue ~lonumen.
talitit ' , in Arr"iul(ru, m,d Gcmci,"chajl.
pp. J7 fl.
20 Industrialization and tbe social changes
expressed by the French revolution created a
large number of new build ing taskl . T he
cities started to grow at a previously un k nown
speed. new impceta nt centres ,,"crc born, and
Ihe dcmogr apbical p.1.tletm changed. T he
architect>. trained in the design of churches
and palaces, were u nable to plan for tbe
rnaSiCS oE indum ial society, and lost contact
with large parts of building activit}".

T HE ARCHITECTS

It is no excuse for the architect that the client and the society confront
him with imprecise and one-sided problems, because it is one of his main
tasks to [ormulate the problems on the basis of the various and often
contradictory needs which are brought forth. Very few present-day archi-
tects have a secure grip on this task. Most of them dispute the functional
problems because they disagree on what is a desirable way of life, or
because they fail to un derstand how a ' way of life ' may be formul ated
or ~ transh ted1 into ~1\ ~T(hittn\\nl fn.me.. 20
We all know that buildings and architectural Jay-outs serve practical
purposes, and we may recognize that mu ch has been done to satisfy
different interpretations of these ' functional' needs. It is natural that this
aspect came to the fore under the pressure of the modern idea of efficiency.
T he functionalism of the 'twenties and 'thirties took this as its point of

16
departure, and gave us the first systematic attempt at an examination of
the actual building tasks. Its investigations usually aimed at finding the
.correct ' minimum measures (sizes), on the assumption that architecture
above all means efficiency and economy. ZI
As time passed, however, many architects recognized that the 'classical'
functionalism was based upon too narrow a definition of the building task.
They understood that it is not ~nough to adopt the most economical
solution, and lately another problem has come steadily to the fore. It has
presented itself in many different ways, but in general we may say that
interest has begun to grow in the milieu-creating function of architecture.
Environment influences human beings, and this implies that the purpose
of architecture transcends the definition given by early functionalism. zz
Fer the present, however. we know very little about how this influence
works, and the new point of view is therefore subject to disagreement
.cid misunderstanding. 2J
The question whether we need a new ' monumentality' has also been
considered. Through giving a visual expression to the constitutive ideas
: : a community or to the social structure, architecture becomes symbolic
: : monumental ' . 24 In other words, one tries to make manifest a common
oasis which may counteract the lonelincs of modern man and the separa-
con of the artist from the public." Th e misunderstandings created by
-ais problem arc closely related to the confusion within the 'aesthetic '
.iimension of architecture. T he styles and formal ideals of the past have
ceen exposed to increasingly strong attacks, on the grounds that new
-r oblems demand fundamentally new solutions. Schinkel, deeply impressed
~ :' the new industrial buildings he saw in England in 1826, exclaimed:
. Should We not try to find our own style?' 26 Afterwards, however, he
went on building both in the neo-classical and the Gothic styles. 27 T he
;:yle had become a ' mask ' covering the real structure of the edifice. 28
Juring the great epochs of the past certain forms had always been reserved
for certain tasks, Th e classical orders were used with caution outside
churches and palaces, and the dome, for instance, had a very particular
function as a symbol of heaven. 29 In the nineteenth century these forms
";\'ere transferred to completely new types of buildings, and a ' devaluation'
of the forms resulted. 30 Th e reaction against this 'confusion of styles'
'7
21 It wa funct ional ' to solve a task like
Di~ Wolinung fiir dar ExIJlenzminim um.
(Th~ tid e ref~" to a ClAM-publicatio n, Sum -
g:ll"t 19.30)' Neuferr's BlJucnlwurfslclirc is a
cha racteristic product of m e period .
22 T he new attilUd c ....:to programmatica lly
Cllr~"ed at the confercnce ' T he Social na. is
of Design ' , hd d at Princeton Uni versity in
1947. Stt T. CrdghlOn; B"ildi" g Jor Modern
M"n , Prineeton ' 949.
23 It i. asserted rhae 1'CT)' large apartme nt-
huildi ng> have ;I harmful effcci on the inhab-
itant s. Solutions like: the: Unitt! d'H llbitlltion
of I.e Corbusier in ~br""il1e, h;lve: been
c:xposal to violent eriticism. W e do DOT.
hownn". kno w .m ytbin g e:~act ;l1>out such
dfC'l:ts ' , and nced pSj'c:bologieil and wt io-
logical in vc:sl:igations.
2~ Giedion: Di~ nc~ Mo"" menuJ itiit.
2S Rom;lntic art ;lnd later nprn,ioni.m ~d
impressionism abo..e :ill expressed the J'C'rson
ality of the: artist . Thi s impliro. the: emanc ipa.
tion, but ;1110 the ""laoo n of the indi..J.dual.
See A. Oof"ner, The Way bryoni ' Art ' , S ew
York '947.
:!6 w~ wililatn" discuss the concept of style.
21 See H. Bc:cnken: &lifjf/~risdlc Ba"iJun
dn deutrchcn Rhmant;k, Main>: 1'JSl.
111 H. Sedlma jr . Vcr/ust i n .\I;tlc, Salz
burg 19'fS, p. 6~.
~ K. Lehmann : ' Tfic Dome of Heaven ' ,
.4rt Bull. Vol. XXVlI .
j() See S. Gledion : ' :"bpolc:on and the Dc-
nluation of Symbols ' , Architcctur~I Review ,
No. II , t 9~7. As ~ s~lf-made man Napclecn
was typical of {he ni ne{~nth centur y. He had
to show hi. ' good taste " by im i{31ing the
accepted culture of the pan, thus g3ining a
'hu manist ic alihi ' .
2
99
 happened in two different ways. In some places an attempt was made to
establish a new contact with the past, in the belief that this would bring
architecture closer to life. 31 Elsewhere. what is fundamentally new in
the problems of our day was stressed, all kinds of historicism was eschewed,
and neue Sachlichkeit propagated instead. 32 Thi s movement found its
j l In Scandinavia thi, tendency do minated
around the turn of the century. Th e nationa l
architecture . however, hardly archi",cd any-
thing but a , uperlicia.l. borrowing of motives ,
and therefore did not contr ibute 10 the $0-
lution of actual tasks, Sec T. Pauluon , Saz'lldi.
'114";4 '11 ArcMteet..u , London 1958, p. 18a.

inspiration in abstract art, and in the possibilities offered by new building 1! See P. John son , Mia ". '11 der Rolle.
New York 19-\7, p. 186.
materials, such as iron. concrete. and glass. 33 Little by little new charac-
3 II See S. Giedion : Sptue. Time ."d ATt M-
teristic forms developed, displacing the devaluated cliches of historicism. tture, Cambridge 19"16, pp. 126 If .
But the public remained without understanding of this radical new orien- 34 Th i, tendency 'IanM in Sweden. show-
tation, which also created a split among the architects themselves. ing il>el! already in the Ian works of .'"plund .
Since the second world war, architecture has obviously entered a new Recently it bas ~n especially pronoun ced
in IUl ly.
phase. Instead of seeing historicism as an alternative, many want to make
3~ We will bt...r d i,cu,s the concept of order
modern architecture ' human' by ' softening' or 'enriching' itsnaked elemen- and it, relation to art iculation and variation.
tary form s. The en richment , so far, has mostly had the character of fancies, So far, we will only assert that it is a mis-
understanding to regard order and variation
degenerating into an ever more forced play with strange forms and effe cts. 34 a, antagonists.
We are here faced with basic problems which involve a revision of the 36 See part IV, ch. 4 of the present mllly .
aesthetic dimension of architecture. How can architecture again become
a sensitive medium, able to register relevant variations in the building
tasks, and at the same time maintain a certain visual order? A new aesthetic
orientation transcending the arbitrary play with forms is surely needed,
although it is not elaimed that the result should resemble the styles of
the past. Undoubtedly we need a formal differentiation of the buildings
corresponding to the functional differences of the building tasks. 35 But so
far we have not found any answer to the question whether the differentiation
should also acquir e a symbolizing aspect by the assignm ent of particular
forms to particular functions with the purpose of ' representing' a cultural
structure. So far modern architecture has had the character of a ' belief ' ,
rather than a worked-out method based upon a d ear analysis of functional,
sociological, and cultural problems.
The lack of agreement among the architects has deprived architectural
education of its stability. It has undergone transformations which correspond
to the phases of the aesthetic ' debate ' . 36 After the teaching of styles in
the academies came the Bauhaus, and a complete break with all historicism.
Th e history of art and architecture was dropped from the curriculum.
Instead, a free experimenting with materials and forms was introduced :

18
everything should be invented anew. 37 The purpose was not to create a 31 ' Wir pfl~gt~n d~ s intuitiv~ Reagiec~b
auf die unmitt~lbar~ Erfahrung . W. Gropius:
new style, but to establish a free ' approach to the tasks. It was said that "Dies ist rneine Form~l ' in DN' Ardiuk'.
this implied a new contact with reality. 38 Today we may say that the No. 12, 1958.
Bauhaus initiated a cleaning process which freed us from the blind copying 3a Sec Gropius : Archil~ktur, Fraokfurt /M
1955. pp. 15 s.
of obsolete forms. But we also realize that the Bauhaus method ought to
39 Th e didactical philo sophy presented by
be supplemented and developed on the basis of a better understanding of G rop ilU in Archiu't'ur emp loys a v~ im-
psychological and sociological factors. 39 Education in this field should preeisc: terminology and is ~ upon frag.
me ntary or obsolete infor m.:nion from the
above all be founded upon an understanding of the nature of the archi- ~uxi1iary sciencn. Sec pp. 26 ff.
tectural totality, and it may be doubted if the free experiments and il) TIl " Importance of arc hitectural hi.tory
artistic ' activities of the Bauhaus will retain their importance in future. hu been streosnl by Bru no Zevi, but we an:
still far from a ...tidaetory teaching of th e
It is also interesting to notice that generally the history of art and archi-
.ubje:et.
tecture has again been introduced into the curriculum, not for the purpose 41 Espn:ially known is th~ contribution of
of copying, but because it seems somewhat imprudent to throw the Le Corbusier. ~ I.e Corburicc: UI n"ulO"
experiences of several thousand years overboard. il) dn hommn . Paris ' 9+"
42 Above .all we have in mind the use of
These reflections show us that the debate among the architects is related
the word space. ' , which is c:rnploya:l without
to and yet differs from the criticisms of the client and the authorities. The making clear if one refers to a phy.ie.a1 or a
architects often react too, of course, because of habits and prejudices, and psyehological sp~c~ . or peebaps to some un-
ddill<lble m~t:lph ysieal entity.
may wit h more or less justification accuse each other of building ' ugly'
or unpractical ' houses. But they also discuss problems on a higher level,
at which the layman would hardl y be able to participate. The public does
not easily understand that issues such as the relations between technics
and form, or form and function, really are important . As long as the
house looks like a beloved prototype and does not cost too much , the
problem of the layman is solved. Any closer scrutiny of the ideas of the
last hundred years, however, shows that the new architecture is not a
result of the wish for rArt pour t'Art, but has sprung from the strivings
of idealistic individuals to make man's environment better;" Hence the
architects seem to believe that the satisfaction obtained when fulfilling the
wishes of the individual is only apparent.
Another reason for the existing difficulties in bridging the gaps between
the architect and the layman and between the architects themselves, is the
lack of a precise terminology. Our confused debate on architectural matters
is a demonstration of imprecise use of language and meaningless formu-
lations. 42 This loose terminology adds to the disorder, and makes sound
discussion difficult even among the architects themselves.

'9
THE SITUATION

In spite of all the confusion there st ems to be one point of agreement: H The well-known u t h istori~n. Sigiricd
Gicd ion ~nd I b n$ &d lm ~ yr hold th e utreme
the situation is impossible. Who would defend the chaos of the modern position. in thi. dcoote.
metropolis, th~ destruction of the landscape through characterless building, ++ Stt A. Dorner : op. cit.
or the split in conflicting opinions on basic architectural problems? But
the disagreement becomes deep and fundamental as soon as we question
whether the ' modern ' movement in architecture and planning really
shows the way out of our muddle. On the one hand, the view is advanced
that modern architecture regains basic human values and opens up a new
phase of sound creative activity. ' Design for life' has become the slogan
of this movement. On the other hand, it is said that modern art and
architecture are debasing humanity and killing the real artistic values. 43
Although the public shows a tendency to support the latter view, we may
point to the fact that no alternative to modern art and architecture has
SO far been offered.
In any case we should take both views seriously. Let us hope that
modem architecture has contributed to solve essential human problems.
Th e actual situation, however, makes us understand that the solutions are
still rather defective, not least because of the omission of fundamental
environmental and symbolical factors. We must realize that the main
responsibility for this state of affairs is the architects' own. Our highly
complicated new world demands new professional methods, but while
the engineer and the scientist have adapted their activities to the changes
in the social structure, the architect has isolated himself and clung to
obsolete ideas and methods. Often he still supports the romantic nineteenth-
century idea that the artist should only express his autonomous personality."
This point of view really makes art become a luxury without direct contact
with or purpose in society, and architecture, being both a practical tool
and an art, becomes involved in a grave internal dissension. While the
planning is governed by practical and economical considerations, the
buildings are decorated afterwards to give them the status of works of art' .
Th e lack of a common basis has made it possible for the architects to take
all kind s of liberties. We might not always agree with the common criticism

20
of arc and literature, but at lease we muse acknowledge chat it undoubtedly 45 Pr;m;tive ' arch;tccturc has becomc an
important SOUrce of inspiration to present-day
has created an increased respect for these fields. For architecture we hardly archi!e<:!s because of its T1ua"in g ful form s.
find any respect whatsoever, either from the public or from the architects. 4(i Like a lcns the work of architec ture col-

In discussing architectural matters we rarely achieve anything but a quarrel leers the c;l U>CS and spr e:od. the effects into
t he en viro nme nt. The nature of the [ens is
about what you like and what I like. As soon as the problems go beyond cond ilionw. by what has to be collected , and
the purely physical functions, the architects arc completely lost and fall d eterm ines the effects.
back upon haphazard improvizations. But the concrete problems they are 47 Sec T . Par son. &. E . A. Shil. : ' Value
Motives and System. of Action ' , in Tow a, J
facing cannot be solved in this way. In the long run it also becomes highly a wnmJ Throry of Action. Cam bridge 1951,
unsatisfactory that the formal language of architecture is not differentiated p. 56.
in relation to 'the different building tasks. Today it is often impossible to
distinguish visually between a cinema and a church. One of the reasons
why the public reacts against modern architecture, is simply that it does
not offer any n~w visual order as a substitute for the ' devaluated' styles
of the past. It has certainly created a new 'vocabulary ' , but so far no
hierarchy of meaningful ' signs ' which may serve the purpose of expressing
the way of life of the society. 45
On this background we may sketch the programme of the present study.

T H E PROBLEM

What we need is a conscious clarifica tion of our problems, that is, the
definition of our building tasks and the means to their solution.
The architect does not work in a vacuum. His products are solutions
to problems coming from the environment, and the solutions also have a
retroactive effect." We therefore have to inquire what the environment
asks from the architect, or rather, what it ought to ask from him. and
also how a ' good ' solution is defined. The architect works in 'situations '
which are composed in particular ways and which explicitly or implicitly
pose particular questions. T he situations are for instance made up of
economical, political and social conditions, of cultural traditions, of physical
conditions such as climate and topography, and not least of human beings
who see ' the environment in very different ways. " The situations are
not static, but always changing : the political organization of the society
changes, the economical conjunctures oscillate, and the climate hardly
offers constant conditions. These fluctuations are always more submitted

21
 to human predictions and control, and the architect has to participate in
the planning which should secure stability through the changes.
In general we may say that architecture is a human product which
should order and improve our relations with the environment , It is there-
fore necessary to investigate how human products are brought forth. Hence
we should ask : What purpose has architectu re as a human product? The
4& The ..ctu~i pul'JlO2 of uchito:cture n atur-
ally differs from reg;on to region. In ItaI,..
the utisfaction of simple ph)'1ial needs is of
prene imponance; in Norway, Instead, the
milieu-problem is urgent.
49 See H . A. Murr~y: 'Tow~rd a Classifica
non of Interactions", in To wa~d a Glm craf
Th~ry oj Actiol1 , P: 459.

functional-practical, the milieu-creating and the symbolizing aspects con- :so The woro' u perience' abo w yers the
perceptions of which we arc not immediately
stitute three possible answers to the question, all of which have to be cc nscieus,
investigated more closely, and which should, if necessary, be supplemented
51 This problem is treated by the psychology
with other factors. 48 of perception which I",. been de Ydopcd On
If we return to the layman, we may assert that architecture undoubtedly an e"'p"rimelllal basis duri ng the last 7080
}'cars.
concerns him in many different ways. Our life consists of changing activities
which demand changing surro undings. This implies that the environment
will 'look ' different according to our immediate state or ' role '. 49 To
take into consideration this relative and variable rd ation between man
and his environment, it is necessary to stress the question: How does orchi-
tccture ( the environment] inpu~na us? It is a truism to say th at the
environment influences us and determines our ' mood ' . That architecture
is a pare of our environment is just as evident. If we take this point of
departure, architecture has not only an instrumental pur pose, but also a
psychological function. T he question could also be put in this way: In what
outer circumstances do we have this or that particular experience? se And
further we shall ask: Do we always have the same experiences in similar
outer circumstances? From everyday experience we know that the last
question has to be answered in the negative. We do know that we might
have very different experiences although the surroundings remain the same,
A kn own object may suddenly appear completely different, and We ma y
say that we have become alive to anothe r of its aspects. Does this relativism
mean that architecture only plays a minor role as a background for our
daily activities, and at the most, illay induce certain ' sentiments ' ? And
if this is the case, docs it necessarily have to be like this? An yway it is
evident that the relationship between man and his environment is not as
simple as it may seem at first sight. We therefore have to investigate more
closely how we really perceive the world around us. 51 A better under-
standing of this process may also help us to grasp what it means to 'cxperi-

22
 cnce architecture ' in the changing situations of daily life, It is possible
to learn to experience architecture, and the architects need such a training ,
That the public 'learns to see' is also necessary if we want to increase the
respect for architecture and to bridge the gap between the professional
man and his client.
To give the questions about the purpose and effec ts of arch itecture a
basis, it is necessary to inqu ire whether particular form s ough t to be
correlated with part icular tasks. We thus have to ask : Why has a building
from a particular puiod a particular form ?sz This is the cen tral problem
in architectural history as well as in architectural theory. 53 We do not
intend that the study of history should lead to a new historicism based
51 We could 31s0S3Y : ' Why does ~ buildi ng
from a certain time look as it does ? ' .
n The que'tion of Ihe m eaning of ' tra_
d ition ' lxclong. here. Wh;' d o we tak e over
some for ms fro m th e J"I,t, and wh y d o we
reject mhets~
54 Severa l art historia n> have understood
the imporlaoee of th is poim of view, C5-
pcci.:llly Gregor P,m l. son. Sec K anft llu kctt
ByggnllJ, Stock holm 1W , 'm d Die Sodllic
Dime,u;on der K Ulfft , Bern 1955.
55 "There CXUIS, how ever , a ver y valuah le
literalure treal ing more limitro., special proh_
lerns,

on a copying of the form s of the past. The information given by history
should above all illustrate the relations between problems and solutions,
and thus furni sh an empirical basis for further work. If we take our way
of putting the problem as a point of departure for an investigation of
56 So far , su.c:h attempts have remained {rag.
mcmM y, for instance the ' G rundlxgri ffe ' of
H einrie h WoltRin. See H . WOltRin: Kunst_
gudru-Julichc Gn".Jbcgrit!c, Miinm o:n 1915'
5; Huilding task _ Building _ r>ncriprion .

architecture's (changing) role in society, a new and rich field of study is

laid open. 54 Today the so-called analytical explanations of work s of archi-
tecture are usually rather dubious. 55
To render an account of why a building 'looks' as it does, we should
rirsr have to describe it in an accurate and illuminating way, We here
again retu rn to the demand for a well-defined and coherent term inology.
This terminology should not only have a logical structure; it should also
be empirically founded to enable us to order our subject-matter in a con-
venicnt way. 56 We thus have to develop a conceptua l scheme which makes
it possible to answer the question : What docs 'architectural form' mean?
This is logically related to the preceding question. In both cases we have
:0 study the relations between corresponding structures in different fields.
Firstly we should' trans late ' a practical-psychological-social-cultura l situa-
tion into architecture, and subsequently the a~chite cture into descrip tive
terms." In doing chis, were are treating the relation between build ing task
and architectural solution, which is the core of our problem .
On a purdy theoretical levc:l we gain knowledge about the relation
between task and solution, But this know ledge may also be incorporated
Into a m ethod wh ich helps us in solving concrete probl ems, and which
might facilitate the historical analysis going from the solution back to

'3
the task. T he historical analysis orders our experiences and makes the 53 The c1anific~tiDn in JlfincipJe correspond.
to th <lt of semtcoc', which will be d ;scu.Kd
judgement of solutions possible. All in all, we arrive at a theory treating btt<,
architectural problems. That does not mean that architecture is reduced
to this theory. Architectural solutions are not brought forth by intellectual
analysis alone. On the other hand it is not possible for responsible architects
to base their solutions on the arbitrary tastes and wishes of the public.
We may actually claim that the visual chaos of our day stems above all
from the architects' attempts to satisfy isolated or misunderstood needs.
Th e responsibility of the architect as the one who more than anybody
else gives form to our environment, can only be based upon a clarification
of the purpose and means of architecture.
The questions we have taken as a point of departure for the present
study belong to three different categories. Firstly we have the questions
concerning the relationship between buildings and those who use them.
that is, the prerequisites and effects of architecture. Subsequently follows
the question about the organization of the means, seen independently of
their effects. Finally we question whether particular means correspond to
particular prerequisites and effects. Taken together the questions cover all
aspects of architecture as a hum an product. 53 Th e theory thus becomes
complete, if we succeed in answering these questions.
T he' nature of architecture ' is not something which has to be added
to our questions. ' The nature of architecture' can only be characterized
by combining the answers to the three kinds of questions we have indicated,
and does not consist in any unk nown metaphysical factor. Th e term is,
by the way, a characteristic symptom of the lack of clear thinking still
common in architectural aesthetics. We should stop' freezing ' architecture
into abstract dimensions which only rarely have any contact with actual
reality.
The logical ske/cton of our architectural theory will always remain
valid because it is purely analytical. Thi s does not mean that architecture
is always the same, only that the theory is capable of covering all possible
historical 'c ontents'. Hence we do not want to present a 'textbook ' , but to
establish a convenient method of architectural analysis. At the centre of our
investigation we put the work of architecture, and we understand this as a
human product, that is. we study the conditions under which it appears.
 II. Background

.J~ _
1. Perceptio n

P H ENOMENA AND OBJECTS

OUf im mediate awareness of the phenomenal world is given throug h

perception. We are highly dependent upon seeing our surroundings in
a satisfactory manner. No t only do we have to find OUT way throug h the
multitude of things, but we should also understand ' or judge' the things
:0 make th em serviceable to us. T he judgement is just as important when
-"'"C dr ive a car as when we search for a partner for life, because it enables
us co make decisions and act appropriately. In daily life we generally act
on the basis of our spontaneous perceptions, without tr ying to classify or
analyze ou r impressions. Nevertheless we manage surp rising ly well, due
:0 the face that the phenom ena ' appear (are perceived} with form'. But
i t also happens that we err. The small problems of daily life we usually
manage without much tro uble, but when the problems become less trans-
parent, we often run the risk of being fooled. It may for instance happen
-har we judge (perceive) another person ' wrongly' . We may believe that
3e is better than he is, and be disillusioned. That is, we had expected a
.iifferent behaviour from him in certain situations. Particularly often our
expectations fail when the conditions are ' unusual '. It is difficult to
recognize a Chinese among other Chinese, and to judge his character is
sri l more difficult, even after a closer acquaintance. We may say that we
':0 not ' attain ' the real object of our perception. It may also happen that a
situation makes us feel completely lost. A common case is an exhibition of
modern 'abstract ' art. Many do not see an ything but a confusing array
or coloured spots, although knowing that something ' more ' has been
;..m ended, that a better performance is requested from perception. But
mostly we have to take our position and act on the basis of such insufficient
perceptions. Brunswik says strikingly that the motto of perception ought

'7
to be: 4 Besser unsicher als gar nicht ' I In general we may say that the IE. Bru n.w ik , W","r..dllll,,"g und &gc..
SlJ"dswelt. Wkn 1934. p. 126 .
purpose of perception is to give us information which enables us to act in
2 Th e immed iately given has been denom.
an appropriate way, but we already understand that perception is an lnaeed in many different W3)'i . Brun swik
unreliable companion who does not mediate an objective and simple world. (op. cit. , p. 15) reports the terms "Inhalt",
'Erscheioung", 'Eindruck ' , "Gegebenhcit',
Spontaneously, the world consists of the phenomena, or our experiences.' In Englisb "sense-content " and ' sen..,-datum
We define according to Jorgensen: ' The word ' phenomenon ' designates are generally used. Husser! introduced the
lam ' phenomenon ' .
every 'something' which may be experienced, and its contrary ' nothing'
3 , . JOrgensen : PSYkowgi, KObenhavn 19-46,
does not designate anything, but expruses that I do not experience any- p. 1')2 .
thing, that is, that nothing is prt'sent to me".' But it would hardly be 4 JOrgensen : op. cit., 1". 156.
satisfactory to consider the world as an aggregate of accidental phenomena. 5 ' T he .t atement "the OI>je(1 G exists" is
We know from daily experience that the phenomena are united in pa r- Untamoun t to " such and such symbolizing
ticular ways, we talk about causes and effects, meaning and order. Les us phcnomella are present" '. Jorgensen: op . clr.,
p. 157
look at an example.
We meet a girl. Th is girl has certain properties of which we spon-
taneously become aware. She may seem very beautiful because she corte-
spends to our idea of how a beautiful girl should look. Being asked after
the first meeting if we know the girl, we should have to answer both
yes and no. We do know some of her properties, but some thought tells
us that she certainly has other qualities which are hidden to us. For the
present, her beauty represents her to us. We say that her beauty is one
of her' manifestations' . Through a closer acquaintance we may discover
other manifestations of the girl, and we say that we know her better.
Perhaps the first property we recognized recedes, becoming less important
and convincing. Generally we may say that any object is represented by
its manifestations, that is, by mediating phenomena or ' lower ' objects.
We may also call these phenomena properties because they are not a thing,
' but belong to the thing in such a way that they directly represent or
symbolize the thing for us; and we cannot be sure that some day we may
not 'discover' (i. e. will experience) new phenomena which have the
character of being properties of the same thing. Wh at we call ' the thing ',
is thus not only the collection of its known properties. but the collection
of its known and unknown properties' . 4 From this it follows that a
phenomenon is present (appears), while an object exists . 5 The phenomena
do not exist, as they are characterized by a lack of permanence. That the
objects exist, means only that they are constituted as the most pam anent
relations between phenomena. Thus they have no independent existence (, ' Dj ~ Moglkhkeil ..inc. Vor kom mcn' in
S~ch vcrh;l1tcnist <lie Form d es Gegcn. tandcs. '
and it is meaningless to talk about "das Ding an sich ". 6 Wh en we say L. Wittgcn .tcin : T ,actatUl Log;elJ.PhillJslJf"
that an object has ' unknown' properties, this does not mean that it has hieu" 19a1, a.ora, a.oq .
an independent existence, only that our conception of the object is insuffi- 7 R. Camap. De, llJgischc Au fhau de. Welt ,
Berlin 19a8, p. I .
cicnt and has to be revised through futu re experiences.
a K . Buhler's ' Prinzip <lee absrrakeen Re-
We use the word ' object' in the widest possible way in accordance lcvanz', see Brunswik . cp- cir., p. 203.
with Carnap, who defines the object as ' alles woriiber cine Aussage
zcmachr wcrden karin". i Both the ' things' of our daily life and the less
intelligible concepts of science, such as 'atom ' , arc objects. Works of
art, social groups, political parties, and even the State itself, are objects.
although they are not physical things.

O BJECT LEVELS

Generally we judge and act on the basis of a few representing phenomena,

that is, we have an incompl ete and superficial idea of the world of objects.
This may, of course, be dangerous, and may lead to unfortunate actions.
:f we marry the girl because of her beauty, it may bring along unpleasant
surprises. If we experience or judge a work of art on the basis of an
accidental but conspicuous property. we are guilt y of an injustice, disre-
;arding the more essential properties of the object. Generally the objects
.i:C represented by diffuse ' totality-phenomena' or by particularly pro--
aounccd properties. It may of course happen that this gives a satisfactory
oasis for our behaviour, but in front of works of art this is hardly the
~ a 5C . Works of art are generally very complex objects and therefore not
easily accessible. Thus we generally do not advance beyond the perceiving
)f secondary properties. It is a fundam ental misunderstanding to believe
-har a 'good ' work of art is characterized by being easily perceived. We
show the tendency to abstract single properties and regard them as if they
.. .-ere the whole object. 8
It is also impor tant to underline that the phenomena receive their
-cprcscntative function through ourselves. T hus we have to learn that a
.ertain phenomenon is mediating a particular object, and through expe-
- ie nce we have to discover the relations between the phenomena, and build
"P a world of objects. We have to learn a foreign langua ge. just as we
have to learn that the sight of a pencil indicates something we can pick , IOrg,DSCIl ; op. cit. p . IsS.
up for writing. 9 10 for g<'n>eD; op. cil., p. 170.

Obviously the representing phenomena do not have the same importance II JOrgensen : op. cit p . 1~.

for the object. This holds true both in spontaneous perception and when
we have made a closer acquaintance with the object. Objects are built up
through generalizations and ordering of experiences, and we have already
suggested how the hierarchy' of phenomena may change through further
experiences. The nature' of the object is defined as the properties appear-
ing more frequently, and forming the simplest relationships. Properties
characterized by irregularity are generally of minor importance. While
the visual phenomena are highly dependent upon the ' conditions of obser-
vation' (illumination etc.), touch is more invariant. Th erefore "palpableness
is the most primitive and common criterion of reality '. 10 It follows that
the object which is represented seems to be more ' remote' than those
representing it. According to Jorgensen we may talk about ' object levels' .
A cultural object is thus on a 'higher level ' than a physical one. From
what has been said above, we understand that the lower phenomena do
not as a rule appear first, mostly they are only accessible through a certain
analytical attitude. Generally perception grasps an intermediate level, and
only through a change of our attitude can we reach the lower or higher
objects. 11

ArrITUDE

Perception is not only problematical because we may judge the situation

unsatisfactorily. It is a paradoxical but common experience that different
persons at the same time have a similar and different experience of the
same environment. That we do manage to participate in the activities of
daily life, proves that we have a common world. We do all see a house
in front of us, we may walk by it, look through the windows, knock at
the door and enter. Obviously we have all seen the house, nothing indicates
that somebody believed he was standing in front of a tree. But we may
also with justification say that we all have different worlds. When we
judge the house in front of us, it often seems as if we were looking at
completely different objects. T he same holds true for the judgement of

3
 persons, and not least, works of art. Fortunately it often happens that we
agree, but the idea that ' taste should not be discussed ' is well established.
How has this to be understood ? So far we may say that the classifications
upon which we agree are generally rather superficial, and that the agree-
ment usually finishes when we have to see the things of everyday life as
manifestations of higher objects.
T his implies that we have a diffe rent attitude ' (orientation) to the
'same ' things. We have all experienced how the same thing may change
according to our attitude. If we are in a bad m ood even known and dear
things may seem repulsive. Th e psychologists have studied this aspect of
perception and have found that the attitude plays a much more important
role than we generally believe. Thus Brunswik has shown that we have
a tendency to overestimate the size of things we consider valuable, as for
instance coins. U and another experiment shows that the same coins appear
larger (relative to a neutral scale of comparison) to poor than to rich
children. B H ence we have to realize that our attitude docs not only
:nean a more or less friendly outlook on things, but that the attitude
directly determines the phenomena. We may even say that it is nonsense
;:0 talk about phenomena independently of an attitude. 14 Naive realism,
therefore, is the victim of a fundamental misunderstanding, in believing
tha t a similar world is given, a priori. to all of us. . side.
11 Brum wik: op. cit. , pp- 120. 148.
13 I . S. Bruner and C. Goodman : 'Value
and Need as Organ izing Factors in Percep-
tion " I . Abnorm. Psychol. XLII, 1941: also
J. S. Bruner and L. Postman : 'Symbolic
Value as Organizing Fa ctor in Pera: ption ' ,
] . Soc. Psychol. 27, 1948.
H The problem WaS investig;atcd alrea dy 60
)'CaIS ago by Kiilpe. A group of ~SOD5 were
exposed for .tIl inStant to difl~nt coUOQUons
of numbcn , forms , and coloun. If they were
asked in advance 10 report on the "umbns
shown. they were unable to tcll anything
whatsoe:Ytt about the colours and th" forms ,
and VMx versa. Kiil pr: coocIudcd that a oiru
atiCIn is influenced by an ' Aufglthe in ouch
a wl Y that we only ><:c whal we e:tpect . 5
O. Kulpe: ' Vttrucb" u!>cr Abn rak tion',
1 KonE'. 1_ Ezp. Psych. , ' 904. p. 56.
15 Size: and colour may of counc contribu te
to the l~ihility of the wricing, but th ey arc
DOl conno:tcd with the meanj"g.
16 Most persons. however . have th eir more
or less extensive opeeial field where they arc
dependen t upoo diff~ntiltcd d.nsifications.
A car-drivcr has to per=i"" different a'lpttU
of the sutrou ndingJ th :m the P""""ng'" at hi,

The attitude is often dictated by the situation. When we read. the

letters are given with form, as well as size and colour. But the task
demands that we direct our attitude towards th e form, whereas the size
and the colour are irrelevant, Of even disturbing, if they are not ' omitted'
in the perception. 15
Perception, therefore, is anything but a passive reception of impressions.
We may change the phenomena by changing our attitude. Brunswik used
the word ' intention' instead of attitude, to underline the active character
of the act of perceiving. We have suggested that our common everyday
intentions are simple classifications (such as fish, flesh, or fowl ') which
enable us to master the situations of daily life. 16 When a more unusual
attitude is requested, a greater ' intentional depth ' is needed, or let us say,
when we have to study the thing more closely and judge it more actively,
our everyday classifications fail, and we do not fully ' grasp ' the situation.

3'
...
This expresses itself thr ough disagreements, or thr ough our falling back
upon the superficial, everyday concord. That we neverth eless use the same
nam es for the things shows that language in general serves to describe our
everyd ay world. One could very well ask if we should not be content
with this sim ple world, and avoid complicating things unnecessarily. But
we know that everything we consider particularly valuable, like natur e,
ar t, social solidarity, scientific insight, and religious belief, is characterized
by going beyond the level of everyday life.
W e ha ve to conclude th at it is of the greatest importance to investigate
how and to what degree we ' attain' the higher objects.
INTERMEDIARY OBJECTS
Egon Brunswik was the first to form ulate a psychology which integrates
the organism with its environment. 17 Hi s work , however, has gained too
little attention. both because of its forbidd ing degree of complexity, and
because psychologists often suffer from the prejudice that psychology ha s
to be studied by 4 peeping into the organism'. n Brunswik's point of
depar ture is the question to what degree and by means of what mechani sms
we are able to perceive the objects which constitute our relevant environ-
mem." We quote one of his examples : Let us suppose that a spider only
reacts to move m ents in the visual field . Flies are biologically important
objects to the spider, but it is only able to perceive the object "fly ' by
assuming ' that all movements in the visual field represent (arc manifesta-
tions of) flies. We may take it for granted that the spider often errcs, and
that it only in a very unsatisfactory way ' attains' this vital object. Another
animal, for instance a fish, may also react to the form and colour of the
fly, and thus attains a more satisfactory perception (it does not err as often
as the spider). But the fish does not perceive the fly 'perfectly' either,
and is easily fooled by an imitation which has certain proper ties in common
with the fly. 20 T his example shows that it is not at all certain that per-
ception reaches its real goal. T he biologically important objects usually lie
'deeper ' than those perceived. Rather than grasping the thi ng directly we
perceive a situation where the thing is included as a possible compo nent. 21
32
I.
17 Brunswik : op. eil.
13 Wh~n ~e~ivi n g , th e ey~ evidently ha,
m be ~xpo,ffi
lo the stimulation of light -rays.
T he tlimuhu is projected on the retina where
an iovute<!. and diminished picture of the
vi.ual field is formed . It may seem self-e,"dem
that perception is a copy of t his ' picture ' ,
a...,d it i. still common to regard the eye a'
a photograph ic cam ~ra . Th i, theor y became
untenable after the d iscovery of the so-called
thing eon,une)'. Th e projective pattun on
the rCli na ch3n~ inco<:lnd y when we move
relative to the thing whicb i, perceivM. We
may even say that the ,am~ thing i. rarelv
represented by thc samc retinal pall~rn " And
. till we perceive th~ ' amc th ing l It is th ere-
fore ol>Viou. thn percrptio n would mM iate
a chaotic world if our 'b pmence were a eopy
of th~ picture on th~ retina . Th e thin gs would
lose all .uhilit), and perma nence. Accordingly,
Brunswik sai'$ that the main question i,
, ,., to what CXlent the perc~ptual system i.
abk to liberate itself from the vari:l.hili ty of
the proximal re;orescnu tion of tirnila r d istal
stimuli.' (Brun,wik : ' Th e Conceptu<ll Focus
of System... in >'b rI : Pryd,,)/og~aJ Th eory,
New York t951, p. 135.) Th i, impl;~ that
the iDlete' t is shifted from mere physiological
aspects to the rd ationship octween th ~ organ-
ism and the environlTKnt. In other word s,
the phy<iologiYI interpretation of perception
which aims at an investigation of the retinal
attd cerebral proceu c.. is llTd cvant and only
apparently concerned with perceptual problem.
(Sec also Rrunswik : The ConccpfUaf Frilme
work oj Pry( hology , Ch i~go 1950.)
19 Brunlwik in !>b tI : op . ch., p. 135.
20 Brun . wik : Wahrnd lm'''' g, p, 117.
11 For the spider the situation 'movement ' ,
which i. ilsmm ed tantam ount to moving fly' .
Th e reaction corrnponds to this assumption.
 One may object that the imperfect perception of animals does not prove
anything about human beings. But we have already mentioned the suitor
who chooses his bride because: of her beauty, and we understand that the
object-world of man is also known through its more or less reliable mani-
fes tations. When the bride is chosen because of financial considerations,
the whole thing becomes still more complicated. T he suitor's love, so to
say, is a function of the girl's money, in other words, his attitude is not
only directed towards her personal properties, but also towards her fortune,
and the rich bride therefore seems more interesting, better, and more
beautiful than a ' corresponding' poor gir1. Th e suitor thus ' sees ' a girl
who is conditioned by something extraneous, her personality is ' coloured '
by her money. 12 If this perception is beneficial remains to be seen, but
we may at least say that the suitor does not attain the ' pure ' object which
is represented by an objective description of the girl' s personality. Th e
suitor only perceives an ' inurmediary object ' between some of the girl's
personal properties and her fortune. H is perception could even be con-
ditioned by the weather on the day he met her;" We have all experienced
that similar intermediary objects are easily formed between a person and
his nationality, social position, title, or family name. The formation of
intermediary objects is characterized by our believing that we perceive
pure objects, without, however, attaining them. We may, for instance,
say that the suitor tried to judge his bride to the best of his ability, the
judgement, however, becoming defective because of the unavoidable
disturbing factor of the money.
The formation of intermediary objects also holds true for the perception
of simple physical situations. H If we try to estimate the real length of a
small stick appearing at a certain distance by comparison with a series
of sticks near at hand, we will exhibit a tendency to un derestimate it.
This is called imperfect size-constancy' . At the same time it is evident
that the projection on the retina of the distant stick is much smaller than
the projection of a similar stick near at hand. But the relative difference
between the projective length s (which is proportional with the distance)
is always much larger than the relative difference between estimated and
real length C' approximative size-constancy'). If we instead intend the
projective length of the distant stick on a stick at hand, we will generally
33
21 Brun.wik : W"hnukmun g. .. p. :2.20.
:u Brum wik iocroduen the term Zwischen-
gegenst"nJ 10 npress that we onl,. anain
objects which lie "between " the pure objects
m.aking up ~n objective d escription of the
situation .
24 An interesting illmu ation is furni,hed
by the so-called ' tone colou" . which h ave
been used as an example in a recent study
on artistic perceptio n (A. Ehrenzweig : The
Prycho"" ,,lysis 0/ Artistic He"ring ""d Vision,
London 195J). It is a well-kno wn physkal
bet that any audibl e tone is acl;Olllpanied by
a scrin of ituudibk overto nes. The overtones
ury accordiog to the thing wh ich prod=
Ihe tone , that ii, ~ violin produces overtones
different from lho5e of a flute, and the over
tones prod uced by the d ifferent in. r:mmeDlS
vary ~c.cOt"ding to the way they are played.
The result is that the 'same ' tone gains a
varying lone colour. Ehrenzweig says th at
our conscious perception 'r epresses' the over
tones to ma ke us hear Ihe fundament al tone
only. T he c vencnes, instead . are perceived
unconsciously': we can infer the hidden
existence of ao unconscious thing-free overtone
hearing: (op. cil. p. 155) In reality, bowevu.
wc do nOl hear the overtones less ' consciously'
than the fu ndamenul tone . As Ehrenzwng
him, d f ro:ogn izes, ~e .imply hear a par-
ticub.r tone wit" a particular tone w lour. Wr
perceive neither funda men tal tone nor over
tones, but an inlermM iary object (lone with
lone colour), and u nfl-er. tand thae Ehren.
zweig's theory of IWO differenl pcr<:eplions is
meaning less. T he phenomenon, howevf::t, can
Ix "",,/yud by means of the objects funda-
rnenl:ll lone and tone colour,
overestimate it. We see that the perception in both cases is an intermediary
object: the length is found between the two possible extremes, the real
length and the projective value. If we intend the real length, the inter-
mediary object will approach this; if we instead intend the projective
length, the intermediary object will move in this direction. In both cases
5 u' underst=d the nature of ..lsual illu. ions
the intermediary object is a product of the two possible intentions, with
the intended one dominating. 25
The objects which constitute the intentional possibilities we call, in
accordance with Brunswik, ' intentional poles' , 26 All the poles may be
of importance to the attained intermediary object, but the intended one
is primary. One may also say that we simultaneously intend different
poles, but with varying intensity. Th e perception of ambiguous figures
clearly shows that our experiences are conditioned by the pole-objects, and
may not be derived univocally from the stimulus-situation. When the
'aspect ' of an ambiguous figure shifts, the stimulus remains the same.
And still the figure ' looks' completely different. We may say that the
aspects are possible interpretations of the situation. T o perceive is to
interpret, that is, to choose between the intentional possibilities. 21
What is said above illustrates the thesis of Gestalt psychology that
' the parts are conditioned by the whole ' 2A, only formulated more precisely
by taking the attitude into consideration. Brunswik expresses this when
he says that the poles influencing a particular perception form a "coherence-
system ' 29. It is not said that ail the possible poles which may be connected
with the stimulus-situation really contribute to the intermediary object.
A variation of poles not belonging to the coherence-system does not
influence the experience. $0 Th e 'coherence-system' is a more precise desig-
nation of the relevant aspects of the situation and expresses, as suggested,
that we do not perceive isolated (discrete) absolute objects, but relativistic
totalities, such as a '6 ern long stick at 5 m distance ' , and not a ' 6 cm
long stick' 31 Th e coherence-system defines under which conditions we
(imperfectly) attain an object. Th e less extensive and the simpler the
coherence-system is, the greater is the chance that we may attain an
approximately correct perception of a single object. In most cases the
intermediary object lies close to one of the poles. Th is effect is so striking
34
2S Brumwik : Wahrnehmun g.. ., pp. 4l ff.
16 Th~ proj ~ctiv~ patt ern on the r~tin3 , for
i n 't~nc~ . is a b~,ic intentional pole in nat ur -
~li Slie painting.
17 S L. Wittgem lein : Philosop hi("QI In-
vestig.>riotts, Oxford 1953. p. 193. T his makes
and Gestall phenomena. Th e illu. ion of Kundt,
where the left ,ubdi..idcd hall sam. longc.-
th an the righ t one. resul ts from the formation
of an inlermcdi..ry obj= lrtw~en num~
and length. The ha.lYe$ :are eq=l. but the left
one comists of more p:uu. T his ' I!IOR' in-
fluences the pcrceptinn of the lengt hs (Bruns-
wik : WQ },rnd mung. . p. '40). The WC'II-
kllOwn M iilla.L~ illusion can be und erstood
..s the form ..rion of an intermediarj- object
between a length and an ard <')
(Brun. wik :
WQhr"chm" "l . p. I SO).
~ Th e Gem Jt psychologiiU wac the fin!
to ilreu th ..t we experience the en..ironment
a, conruting of objects or 'wholes '. The point
of departun was \'00 Ehrenfd s' disro..n-y of
the so-cal led ' gmalt-qua.lity (Sec C. \'On
Ehrenfch: Ueber Gcst:tI tqu..liuten . Vi m ..{-
jIt},rsdri/t fUr wUs. P},il. 180)0. vol. I~ .
pp. l.t9 fl .). If we transpose a melody from
one b,y to anotha, all the tone, ehan~. but
the melody remains the >amcl Von Ehrenfels
in uod uecd the tcrm gau lt.qua lity ' to denc ee
the fact thaI a whole (e. g. a melody or a
vi. 1I31 figu re) is something more ' than the
um ' of the properties of i ii d ements. Th e
ide.. was developed by the Gestalt p.reho-
logi, t. Max Wertheimer , Wolfgang Kohler
..nd Kurt Koffka, who proved th..t e n clemen!
eh~ l\ges according 10 the context it forms a
p~rt of. in otha word. , rhe whole determines
rhe f"Jrts.
2.9 Th e term expresses the interdependence
of tbe poles.
:Ill T he pcrc ~pl ion of the M(j ll ~r Ly~r illu
.ion, for i ",13nc~, is i nd~p~nrl ~n t of the
co]nurs of the paper and the lines.
31 Brun swik : WahrMhmung .. . p. 75.
that we generally have the illusion of perceIVlng pure objects. It is also 32 Brun swik r W" hrndm ung , p . 73.

normal tha t the contribution of the poles to the perception is unequal; 33 Brunswik : W.:zlz ,.,, ~h m u"g , p. 103.

the intermediary object indicates the share of each."
We have mentioned that Brunswik has int roduced the term ' inten-
tional depth ' to express that the intentional poles may lie on different
levels, and represent each other. " Difference in intentional depth is not
the same as what we called object levels" as it is not certain that the
lowest object is more easily perceptible. The situation at the moment will
determine if a ncar or distant pole is the right goal for the perception,
Thus it would be to intend a dangerously 'distant ' object if we start to
philosophize about the tran sformations of our visual world while driving
304 Th e projeai ve ~nern . therefore, d oes
no r h3ve 3 uni.,ouI relation 10 th e slimulus.
object. The same hok!. true for all cues wh ich
determine the perception of depth (dispoIrily.
3ccomo,:btion, perspectiye etc.), these: only
ha'e in common '. h igher or lessee prcba -
bility of being caused by a ceruin environ-
mental d eprb-partern ". (Brun swik in Man :
op. cit., p. 136.)
3S K. Biihler's allgancincs Dup1isi\iu-
prinaip ". This implies th.t ' ma ning' alwaY'
consists in rel. tions.

a car; and it would be just as dangerous to intend too near an object, 36 Th e simple empiric.al fact that the rae-
dialion is omincc! in perception mak" ~[[
such as a minor detail of the visual field. ps~'Cho~n~lytical theories of an unoon~cious '

T he lower objects wh ich mediate the relevant object also offer problems. perception unnecessary. See note :z.q .

It is characteristic that many representing objects do not clearly mediate 37 Bru nswik : Wahrn~hmung . .., pp. 121,
nG.
one particular object, while an object on the other hand may be represented
3~ Brumw ik : lVah rn~h m "ng"., p. 193.
:n many different ways. Brunswik says that the mechanism of perception
.s characterized by Melm lcutigkcit or vicarious mediation ' . Thus any
shape within the projectional pattern on the retina may be caused either
Jy a distant but large object, or by a small object close by." Any' hypo-
-hesis' about reality therefore has to be based upon at least two mediating
objects to be fairly safe. 35 In spontaneous experience the mediating objects
for instance the projectional pattern on the retina) are 'swallowed ' by
the process of perception, and a part icular attitud e is needed to make us
aware of the mediation. In the same way the physical manifestations of
.<. work of art may be swallowed ' in certain types of art experience. 36

. The State" on the contrary, is an object ,v-hich we can hardly perceive,

:- "Jt have to imagine through its manifestations. 31 It is very common that
., higher object forms an intermediate object with its own mediation.
:-ie perceived quality of a work of art will thus often be influenced by
:.:...: ' fi neness' of the materials employed. Intentionally distant objects are
.sually difficult to attain (especially when we lack special training in per-
~::\i ng them), because the mediation always becomes more complicated. "
In daily life our imperfect perceptions are usually adequate, and we
i.sc rarely have time to control the perceptions on which we base our

35
actions. It may even be convenient that perception spontaneously counter- J9 F. H. Allport: Theonn oj Peru ptioll,
New Yo.rk 1955. gives too narrow an illtCf-
balances several factors and makes a compromise. prcutioa of Brnnswik 's concepe of object.
When we partly or completely attain an object, our conduct may be 40 JOrgensen : np. cit. p. 167.
described by means of this object. We have suggested that any objective dCl' diJf\UCn GcncDstat!dsva
41 Prinz ip
description has to be done in terms of objects because the objects are mcngung. ~ Brunswik : Wd,."d"',"'g...
p. 164
constructed with objectivity as a criterion. T his is the basis of Brunswik's
42 ~ A. Dorner : Tloe _ y hryqnJ Art ',
programme : ' Psychologic vom Gegenstand her' or psychology in terms New York 19-17.
of objects' . J9 T he objects themselves may be understood as descriptions
of an ' ideal ' conduct, or as perceptions under ideal conditions (measure-
ment). Such a conduct is only suitable when facing certain tasks, but
gives a standard for action in general.
We understand that the immediately given, the phenomena, are inter-
mediary objects, The term ' intermediary object ' has been introduced in
such a way that the phenomena are ' explained '. We repeat that to render
an account of an intermediary object, one has to indicate the poles which
have contributed to its formation, in other words, to investigate ' under
which conditions, in which phenomenal context a phenomenon appears
(is given) ' . 40 It may seem confusing to say that we are able to experience
something which is an intermediate between a length and an area, or
between a size and a value; in general that the nature of the perceptions
is such that language remains without words. But we have just seen that
the words denote objects which are abstractions (generalizations) from the
immediately given phenomena. Spontaneously we escape confusion by
assuming' that we experience pure objects, without realizing that the
perception is 'diffusely mixed' with the perception of other objects. 41
We understand the importance of the object-constructions as the basis of
an ordered world, but we also understand that they make us miss the
finer shades. The concept ' intermediary object ' deprives the world of the
last rest of im m anent static or absolute form, and presents instead an
interaction of "self-changing energies' . 42
Above we have given an account of the process of perception, but we
have not explained how int entions are attained, how we learn that particular
phenomena represent particular objects. Nor is it explained how we win
the vicariousness of mediation.
SOCIALI ZAT ION

In trying to establish the connection between the organism and its environ- 43 T . POluo m : The Socil:l Sy# cm , Glencoe
195 1 p. :<:19.
ment, we are inquiri ng how the adjustment of the organism takes place.
.... A penon who has no ""per1mce with
The child' s adaptation to the environment is generally labelled as a pcnciIs, would nor c:lpericnu the pencil I i
socialization-process'. H This term indicates that the child is admitted to such, bur ;as a piece of wood; and a penon
who h",s no C:lpcriCftCC with wood would Iuo.,e
a society and only gradually learns to apprehend what the society expects a still more uguc perceporm.
from it, and what the child itself may expect to attain. This adaptation ' 5 See E. C. Tolman: 'A PhychoIoginI
not only consists in adjusting to social objects (other persons and collec- Model ' , in TowlZTi /I GnlmJ T heory of Au
ion, p, :.
tivities), but also in adjusting to the physical things with which the child
comes in contact. The child, so to say, has to learn how the things ' behave' <6 POlnonl 6: Shils: 01" or., p. 6;.

if they are treated in a particular way, that the things may be grasped
or lifted with more or less effort, that they arc hard or soft. Through
experiences with the things one may adjust one's own conduct, and per-
ception becomes a recognition of the things which are known. It might
be objected that the word socialization ' does not fit the adjustment to
the physical things, as an interminable amount of elementary experiences
has to be common to all cultures to enable man to find his way in the
physical surroundings. But at the same time the physical objects differ in
the various societies, and above all, they participate in different human
actions, Children growing up in a metropolis and peasant children thus
have different experiences with physical things. Generally perception
:5 very unsatisfactory in front of things we do not know. .... As grown-up
?Crsons we usually have to undergo particular experiences to be able to
:arry out a particular profession. T his means that perception is dependent
.lpon our conceptions; we perceive the sum of our own experiences," And
these experiences are in the highest degree a result of the demands made
:ly our society. We may also put it this way: the formation of intermediary
:>bjects is dependent upon intentional poles which have to be understood
as generalized, socially conditioned experiences. The intentions we attain
ire a result of the socialization-process. Tautologically expressed the given
world consists of the objects we know. 4Ii
Very soon the parents start to expect a certain behaviour from the child.
_\ t the same time they adjust themselves to the child's actions and try to
cnderstand their ' meaning ' , that is, what the child seems to expect from

37
the environment. Parents and child thus influence each other mutually, 47 Parsons " Shih : op. cit. , p. ' 5J.

a state of affairs which is generally called ' interaction '. 47 T he interaction 43 Parson<: op . cit., pp . '0 fl .

is conditioned by mutual expectations. Scientific work is also based upon 49 E. C. Tol m~n : op. cit., p. J45.

expectations, in the form of appropriate predictions. H uman interaction 50 Par""n" op. cit., p. 16.

is more complicated because it is not enough to understand the "behaviour"

of physical objects, but one has also to consider the reactions of Aller to
one's own actions. This is a fundamenta l characteristic of human inter-
action. From childhood on, we behave in certain ways to obtain the
reactions we want from Alter, or to escape undesired reactions. Those
objects which may enter into a relationship of mutual expectations, we
have called social objects' . Social objects may be single personalities,
groups or collectivities. For the child, the mother is primarily an important
social object, soon also the whole family and only later other collectivities.
Evidently the social expectations are also generalized experiences. One
attains in correspondence with one's own actions. The baby cries when
it wants something, and because its needs are relatively few, this is usually
adequate. When the needs become more differentiated, the child's actions
bccorne correspondingly articulated and it starts to make use of signs'
to attain gratification of its expectations. In this way it takes advantage
of the fact that objects may represent each other. We thus see that the
signs we employ denote generalized experiences, objects we want to attain,
escapeor describe. The generalized experiencesare abstracted inter-situational
similarities. Th e' sign ' is of fundamental importance because it overlooks
minor differences, and through its stable ' meaning' makes that communi-
cation possible which is a prerequisite of any differentiated interaction. 43
T he signs are characterized by being common and ready for use; they are
not invented anew within the individual interaction. -w Socialization there-
fore primarily consists in an adjustment to that part of tradition which
comprises all sign-complexes or 's ymbol-systems' . 50 It is impossible to get
direct individual knowledge of all the objects in our environment , but
we take over instead the experiences of others through the symbol-systems.
Although these experiences often are communicated and used in a super
ficial way, they make us grasp objects far beyond our individual potentiali-
ties. The process of socialization is thevetore both necessary and dangerous.
It is needed to integrate the individual in the common world and to give
 him a feeling of security. It becomes dangerous when the adjustment to 51 G. Allport : 'Prejudke ' , in Toward a
G~"cral T heory of Action.
the accepted standards is exaggerated and brings forth prejudices and
52 See C. Kluckhohn : ' V~l ue ~nd Value-
rejections of everything different. In a fascinating study, G. Allport has Orkn t;ltions in the Theory of Action ' . in
shown how socialization generally leads to pronounced conflict-creating Toward a Ge-IJenl Theory oj ActIO n.

?rejudices. ' 1 Th e' standard-meanings' also are often employed by oppor- 5.1 Panons: op. cit. p. 18.

tunists or 'success-hunters ' who try to win a large public by serving up " Parsons : cp- cit., p. U I.
:he most vulgar generalities. '2 55 P;lnOns : op . cit., p. 16.

We understand that the characteristic expectations which determine a

personality may not be interpreted as organical needs. T he personality as
well as the collectivity and the symbol-systems are created through inter-
action. We also understand that all these objects are mutually inter-
Sependem. " Our inborn faculties' cannot be considered anything but
cispositions which have to receive concrete empirical material within the
.imits established by the interaction-process.
The socialization primarily takes place through ' imitation ' and' identi-
Scarion ' . Imitation ' consists in taking ooer cultural deme nts like know-
_ ~.:ige , beliefs. and symbols, while identification' means that we come
:.3 understand and accept the mediated values, i. e., that the expec-
u rions and objects the signs designate are of different importance. T he
-esu lt is a common standard which gives meaning to the interaction-
?":ocess. ~ Th e values th-v are not absolute either. but must be understood
LS more or less invariant social products. They are given a priori neither
...:: personality nor in nature, but are handed down as a part of the cultural
tradition, and are integrated in the personality through interaction. 55
We have mentioned that socialization continuously demands that
-csolete expectations are ' substituted' with new ones. Th is is particularly
....::lportant during childhood and adolescence, but the process necessarily
continues throughout our whole life as we always have to face new
a ruations, and because society undergoes continuous changes. Th e sub-
zi rution can only be carried out by forwarding demands which initially
;:~e the interaction a certain lack of balance. Immediate gratification of
::':::se demands is impossible, at the same time as our expectations become
.-:ong ; something else is asked for other than we expected. It is of decisive
...::lportance that the ego does not respond with defence-mechanisms which
cinder the socialization-process, but acce::pts the disappointment and adjusts

39
itself to the new expectations. 'Security' thus means the ability to bear 56 P..",n, & Shih: op- cir., p. -s-
a certain amount of disappointments, and these disappointments or re- 57 Par son>: op. cit. , pp- 236 ff.

nouncements are basic to the development of personality. 53 PaIsons: op. [it p - 242.

' Socialization ' therefore implies that we learn to behave in particular

ways towards particular things, in other words, that particular phenomena
have become connected with particular objects. Th is relationship varies
according to which interactions the single individual has established. The
sociologists express this by saying that we play different "roles' in society.
The word ' role' thus denotes an ordered behaviour determined by parti-
cular intentional poles. se T he word has been chosen to illustrate that our
behaviour is neither accidental nor understandable through an isolated
study of the single individual. It also expresses that we have diDermt
roles in interaction, which are mutually interdependent. A society is an
ordered system of roles defined through institutions. Marriage is such an
institution. The personality may also be understood as a system of roles
determined by the individual's participation in different interactions. T he
same role, therefore, is different to different individuals in so far as it
always belongs to another role-system. The roles of the single individual
change during the course of life, especially during childhood and adoles-
cence. Particularly important is the transition to the professional world
of the grownup person. Parsons considers this a new phase in the sociali-
zation-process. While the first phase was universal, the second is more
specialized. In great part it consists in the acquisition of that specialized
knowledge which is necessary in the situations of a gcownup role. Wh at
has to be learned is generally so complex that the only efficient method
is imitation. 57 The roles also change later in life. Marriage thus asks for
always new role-contents as one gets one or more children, and as the
children grow up and leave the home. Even society itself may change in
such a way that the roles assume a different character; " In general,
however, we may regard the roles and their changes as determined within
the social system. We may also say that a particular' cultural pattern' is
expressed through the roles.
Every role implies a particular orientation to the environment, and it
is therefore a matter of course that the roles are reflected in perception.
We have already mentioned the' specialized ' perception of the car-driver,
and understand that all specialists necessarily have to develop their charac ~9 C . Cherry; On Human Communicatio",
New York &: London 1957, p. :>54. The ex-
tcristic intentional poles. Th e artist is no exception. Most' special ' intentions istence of inborn schemata may be do ubted.
are developed during the second phase of socialization. T he mechanism See also J. Piaget, Th~ Child', Conlt,UC"tion
of Rcality, London 1955.
of perception, however, is built upon a foundation of general, everyday
60 Brun swik says that the cases are normal
intentions. Th is is due to the first phase of the socialization-process, which in denen die &"genstandliche Welt wenig_
may be called ' universal ' because it changes less in space and rime. st"os ab Schema don va<:wo:ggt;0omtnen ist,
.. uod die Wahrndunoog bloss dazu dient
Children's drawings are fairly similar in all parts of the world, while the diese Kcmeuktic n wirderz=rkennen . (Wah, -
arts reflect a later adaptation to different roles and cultural objects. "" hmung.. p. 15.)
61 Bruos wik , Wahrnchmullg.. . p. u8 .

ScH EMATIZATl ON

We define a schema' as a typical (stereotyped) reaction to a situation,

that is, as a typical attitude or a characteristic coherence-system of inten-
::ional poles. We understand that the schemata are formed during sociali-
radon, " and their importance is so great that we may almost put a sign
:,f equality between schema and perception." Thus we generally ascribe
:0 a man who speaks Swedish all the properties which make up our
schema Swede' ; in fact we perceive properties which may not be present,
and discover perhaps that our schema only partly ' fits' . Or rather, we
discover that our perception is wrong, as we usually are not conscious of
our schemata. When we discover that our reaction is unsatisfactory, that
:he schema does not allow a sufficient intentional depth, we are forced
:0 revise it. The schematization therefore is a process which never comes
:0 a close. But it is a well-known fact that our prejudices may be so strong
that we refuse to revise, and if we say that a person is ' fossilized', it
signifies that his schematization has stopped. He has acquired a collection
of more or less primitive schemata, and has at any price to force reality
-nto them. Rather than letting the schemata go, he accepts a distorted
view of reality. We cling to the schemata and are afraid of the insecurity
which would result if the world should lose its schema-bound stability.
Brunswik thus says that a certain Unbelehrbark cit characterizes per-
ception. " Piaget reports an experiment where g-year-old children have
:0 predict how the surface of the water inside a bottle moves when the
bottle is tipped. Although the children look at the bottle when it is tipped,
:hey are unable to perceive that the surface of the water remains horizontal.

4'
Piaget concludes that the experiment ' ... shows how poorly commonly 52 r. Piaget &. B. Inhelder : Th~ Child'l
Conuption of Sp.x~. London 1956, p. 388.
perceived events are recorded in the absence of a schema within which
6J wittgensrein: PIJif. [nHlt. , p. 209.
they may be organized.' Q Any new situation demands a certain revision
~ Piagtt .. Inhdd~ ; op. cir., p. 455.
of our schemata, and an active relation to the environment presupposes
6~R. Atnheim : Art ..nd Vi'llilf Prrpl ion,
such a flexibility. One of the most beautiful experiences is to meet an Berkeley I ~ , pp. 139 fl .
elderly person who is still willing to receive impressions, and who does
not reject everything that does not not fit in with the essence of his or
her previous experience.
To ' learn to see', above all means to acquire schemata which allow
an adequate intentional depth. Thi s is apparent, for example, when one
is learning a foreign language: it is essential to learn to intend sponta
neously the meaning of the words. A language we do not know well
demands effort, because the intention of the meaning does not come
without translation. It is of course neither possible nor necessary to build
up all schemata individually. While the simplest perceptual schemata are
a result of senso-motoric activity, the higher ' schemata are, as suggested,
based upon communication of experiences and cultural traditions. If this
were not the case, our culture would never reach beyond a very primitive
stage. We assimilate experiences through the schemata, and these come
to life when we have an experience which ' fits ' . Every historical period
brings forth its characteristic schcmatizations.
The great Swiss child-psychologist Jean Piaget has given us a basic
understanding of schematization. He stresses that the first schemata are
a result of the child's concrete operations, and not an intellectual abstraction
of the properties of things. Wittgenstein expresses this state of affairs
when he says: It is only if someone can do, has learnt, is master of,
such and such, that it makes sense to say that he has had this experience.' 6J
T hus Piaget shows that our primal schematizations are the result of
operations' such as putting things dose to each other, into each other
or after each other. 64 When the child draws a 'rounding ' and lets it
represent a thing in general, this signifies that it assimilates the things to
its schema for ' thingness'. For the child a thing is primarily something
enclosed and compact, and the rounding ' perfectly represents these
qualities. 65
 In general the schemata arc based upon similarity between phenomena. 65 Bruo. ....ik ; Wahr" d mu" g.. ., pp. 201 ff.

While the objects of science are constructed through approximately objective 67 The classical example of VOll Ehrenfeb',
therefore. presupposes the existence of pu .
abstractions, the schemata result from the experience of equivalent situa- tieubr ..:hemacizariom , and does not express
tions and have to be understood as relatively 'impure ' objects." In the all eternal and nece"ary property of the
organilrn.
following we shall take a look at the schemata which mediate our physical
61 Piaget I< Inhelder : cp - cit p. +19.
world of everyday life.
69 The investigations of Piager are valid
The first schema to be acquired is, according to Piager, ' proximity' . 6 for S....in ehildren today. and We may an ume
Later follow among others, ' enclosure ' and ' continuity ' . 'Size-constancy' Ihat other civilizaticns develop different sche-
mata . Everything goes to show. however. that
is a schema which results from the operational experience that things the elemenury schemat:l resulting from every_
maintain their size when moved. Simple gestalt qualities like elementary day mcroric behaviour , :are rebrivdy invariant .
geometrical figures are obviously based upon the schemata ' enclosure ' ;0 Piaget &; Inhelder . op. d t. p. 9.
and 'continuity', while the perception of more complicated wholes, like
works of art , presuppose schemata which may only be acquired through
special traini ng. We easily perceive a melody as a totality because it belongs
to a key, whereby the single tones of the melody are experienced in their
relation to the key-schema. ' Atonal' music is generally criticized for being
. without melody ' , because the key-schemata not only have lost their
organizing role, but work directly to create prejudices and hinder per
ccprion. Through instruction and through becoming accustomed, we may
acquire an adequate new schema which opens up the intended meaning. "
When we say that the schemata mediate the intended meaning, we under-
line the fundamental importance of schcmatization. The schemata are, as
mentioned, to be considered as characteristic coherence-systems of inten-
tional poles, and thus correspond to the objects which constitute our
personal world. The world is common in so far as the schemata are
common. T he schemata give form to the world, because they organize
the phenomena as manifestations of objects. 69 The ' constancy-phenomena ' ,
ior instance, imply that we have learned to perceive changing phenomena
as representing the same object.
The first schemata start to develop on a scnso-motoric basis from birth
on. " In a child of 7.8 month s, the visual and tactile experiences of the
pn manency of things are not yet co-ordinated. Although a child of 5-6
weeks thus does not experience the things as permanent, it starts to
recognize. " As the experience of form- and size-constancy is lacking, the
recognition can only result from the child's ability to grasp topological

43
 71 Piag~t & Iuh elder; op. cit., p. 25.
transformations. Topology does not deal with permanent distances, angles
or areas, but is based upon relations such as proximity, separation, suc- 72 See II, 2, note 15.
73 Piag~t & Iuheld~r: op. cit. p. 378.
cession, closure (inside, outside), and continuity. 71 We may notice that the
child in this early period experiences the transformations as changu 0/ 74 The word 'p roportion ' here means 'ratio ' .

the thing itseli, and not as apparent changes due to variations in the
relation between the thing and the child. The topological schemata thus
are characterized by being ti~d to the thing, not grasping the mutual
relations between a number of things. In this way they mediate a visual
world consisting of isolated elements, and do not allow for the co-ordination
of these elements into a unified whole. The only kind of order which may
be attained is based upon the proximity-relation, and consists in a succession
of separate things. This kind of order (' collection') later develops into
the continuity-schema, when the child realizes that the proximity-operation
itself is a process which can be repeated ad infinitu m . In this way the
operation is abstracted from the concrete physical things which gave birth
to it. As soon as continuity' is acquired, only a small step lacks for the
formation of schemata which determine the relations between things. Th e
straight line has an important function in the development of such com-
prehensive schemata. Topology docs not know the straight line, but it
forms a part of the proiectiv~ and Euclidean systems. The straight line thus
is not given to the child a priori, nor is the tri-dimensional or Euclidean
space, which most people consider self-evident. n "Vertical-horixontal ' is
another schematization. Piaget opposes the general view that this relation
is a necessary result of our standing and walking upright. His experiments
show that the vertical-horizontal schema has to be built up through
operations with things. 7J
Th e proj~ctifJ~ or p~rspective relations are neither properties of the
things nor an a priori relationship between the things and ourselves, but
schematizations on the basis that certain properties remain constant when
the viewpoint is shifted. Th e only property which is added to the topological
ones is that the straight lines are preserved during the transformations.
Angles and distances (proportions), however, are variable. Proportions seem
related to the 'interdependence of the parts' of the Gestalt theory, 74 The
Gestalt psychologists have clearly shown that the phenomenal relations
between the parts are a function of the whole, that is, the perception of

44
 single proportions varies according to the context. Piaget also shows that 75 Piager I< IlIhdder: 0p. cit. , pp . 344. 364.
76 For the Gestalt laws see M. Wertheim~ :
the perception of proportions is very unsteady and defective. "Strong 6
' LaW$ of Organiz.ation in P~eeptual Form, ' ,
Gestalten' such as discrete, simple geometrical figures, are the only ex- ill W. D. Ellis: A Soura Book oj Gerlall
cepdons." The experience of pregnancy and Gestalt quality is therefore Ptychology, London 1938.
primarily due to other factors than the proportions, and we have already " I. ' . Gibson: Thc PtTa ption oj t"c VUual
WOTlJ, Boston '950.
suggested that the basis is topological, with straight lines and defined
78 Th" problem is nised, but not solved in
angles as later supplements. 76 M. loh ansen : A" Introductory Study oj VoJu_
From what has been said above, we understand that the Gestalt laws' mina/ FOTm Perccption , Kob<o:nhavn.

are relatively simple schematizations, mainly based upon the topological

schemata described by Piaget. It should also be stressed that they are not
general "Jaws' we have to obey. We can very well direct our attitude
differently than prescribed by the Gestalt schemata. And the thesis of
Gestalt psychology, that we always prefer the simplest solution, is explained
by the fact that we ' know ' that a d ear order is convenient. But the need
for a simple order is not absolute, it is a well-known phenomenon that
perception often tends to oversimplify the situation. The experiences of a
characteristic property, as well as a diffuse totality or an articulated form,
arc the result of schematizations. To perceive implies that we attain a
certain order, and the chaotic is defined by shunning a satisfactory
perception.
The so-called ' constancy-phenomena ' also have to be mentioned in
more detail. When we perceive a circular table, it is almost always seen
obliquely, and the projective pattern on the retina is oval. In spite of this
we experience a circular table and not an oval one. T his is called "form-
constancy' , and implies that we may perceive the sameness of a thing
although its projective pattern changes. T here arc of course limits to the
recognition of complicated forms. J. J. Gibson maintains that the pro-
jectional pattern must keep a kind of identity through the changes." The
projectional pattern is distorted, but certain determining structural qu alities
arc retained during the distortion. We may say that the form is stretched
without bursting. As already mentioned, Piagct has shown that we learn
to perceive the sameness of things because of their topological properties.
We therefore do not have to consider the projective pattern in this context,
but a careful investigation of the limits of thing-constancy is anyway very
desirable. 78 T hing-constancy may of course also result when two (or more)

45

J _
 forms are mediated by the same non-topological (or mixed) schema. If we 79 Arnhdm reprodoces the structuul Ike-
leton ' of the square OD p. 3 in Art ~nJ Vis,,~l
want to describe a square, for instance, it is not enough to say that it has pl!ruption.
four equal sides which are joined at right angles. Among other character- 110 JQr~Il "C't1: op. cir. , pp. 3r44.
istics the square also has a centre which, although invisible, may play an
important role in perception. We see that a point which is placed in this
centre acquires a completely different character from a point placed some-
where else within the square. We may conclude that the area of the
square has not a uniform character. but is structured by a 'skeleton' of
lines and points. Consequently we also understand that the form of a
figure is not only determined by its contours. Th e ' structural skeleton '
has to be understood as a system of simple topological and Euclidean
schemata, which in the above-mentioned case are unified in the ' square- 7
schema"." Usually we perceive a Gestalt by means of several schemata,
and the structural skeleton' is made up of the poles these schemata
encompass. In general we realize that the constancy-phenomena are of
the greatest importance, because they determine those basic principles of
composition we call' repetition ' and variation ' .
One of the problems which has given the psychologists most trouble
is the so-called ' space-perception '. As long as the eye was considered a
kind of photographic apparatus, it seemed incomprehensible that the
Rat ' projectional p-attern on the retina could mediate the perception of
depth. But we have seen that perception is not a slave of the projectional
pattern. Perception aims at valid assumptions about the nature of the
environment, and it is evident that a hypothesis which organizes the
situation into a two-dimensional surface would usually lead to catastrophical
actions. It is highly necessary that the organism acquires schemata which
directly mediate a tri-dimensional world. Piaget shows that our space-
consciousness' is based upon operational schemata, that is, experiences with
things. T he space-schemata may be of very different kinds, and the same
individual normally possesses more than one schema, to allow him a
satisfactory perception of diverse situations or tasks ' . T he schemata,
moreover, are culturally determined. It is thus a naive simplification to
believe that the space-perceptions correspond to the objective physical space
of science. BO In daily life we usually act on the basis of direction, size and
distance, and only a particular attitude enables us to combine these phe-
 ~ 1 Brl.lnswik empha sizes thaI a thoroughly
nomena into a superior space-conception. Such a space-schema in a dev-
& velo!"d space-schema '!>"i weniger ge
eloped form, is capable of defining the relations between things by indica- bilJde n :ziemlieh selten ist. E. gelingt dann
tions like right and left, behind and before, over and under, and also blo'l> noch einc Angak wie etw a . "so gros'
wic ein HaLl' , " . Das Ord nung' schema Ion
through considering the relative sizes. The Euclidean space-schema organ- , ich dann in cine Reihe mchr odcc weniger
izes such indications into a system extending in all three dimensions. ~I 7.uummcnh:ingcndec Ein zelvergl eicb...bjekte
auf. ' (If',,'m'ehmm'g.. . p. 199).
The investigations of Piaget have shown that Euclidean space is a relatively
52 Pia/o:ct " Inhddcr: 01'. cit. , p- 441.
late schcmatization, which only has an unconscious behavioural character.
The experience of depth, which is the point of departure for the Euclidean
S, Piagct & l nhelder - 01" cit.. p. s. also
Piager: 0 1'. cit . 1'1'_ 97 fl.
schema, stems from the topological relation that things are betwee n each S4 Piaget " Inhddcr : 0 1'. dt., p . +19.
other. Also, the perception of depth is very inaccurate and demonstrates
that phenomenal space has a non-Euclidean character. !Z Nor does Euclid-
ean space correspond to the gravitational space which' radiates' from the
globe. The ' straight' lines we imagine parallel to the surface of the earth
arc far from straight, and we understand that Euclidean space is not derived
from the physical properties of the globe.
Piaget's experiment with the water-bottle shows that the younger chil-
dren only perceive that the water is inside, without being able to render
an account of the relation between the water and the bottle. T he bigger
children also perceive the surface of the water, but imagine its relation
to the bottle as unchanged when the bottle is tipped. The water is hence
assimilated to the directions of the bottle as a schema, and although the
children su that the water-surface remains horizontal when the bottle is
tipped, they are unable to represent in a drawing this state of affairs!
Only still older children are able to assimilate the water to an 'imagined'
schema outside the bottle, i. e., the vertical-horizontal schema.
Piaget sums up his investigations with these words : 'It is quite obvious
that the perception of space involves a gradual construction and certainly
does not exist ready made at the outset of mental developme n t .' ~' ' T he
. intuition ' of space is not a 'reading ' or apprehension of the properties
of objects, but from the very beginning, an action performed on them.' M
Hence we understand that the word ' space' may denote very different
objects which may be more or less intentionally distant. In certain older
cultures, for instance, the space-conception was also determined by different
qualities assigned to the directions north, south, west and east. These
qualities were intermediary objects with religious ideas as contributing

47
poles, and the space-schema thus has to be described as non-homogeneous 15 See H. War=: : "Raum und Zeit in den
Urformen der Kiinste ' , in Z~;I"r;/t Jur
or even discontinuous. Such ' space-conceptions' are not as unintell igible as A~ItJt~ti~ ,,,,J iJlg~ ",n "e KU"tl wilf~" ""Jt.
they may seem; we should only remember that our own more or less 1931.
developed Euclidean schema is also a schema, an empirically constructed 106 The Gestall psycbologim hau: u ied to
explain t he perception of space by ~ans of
contributio n to the intentional poles of perception, and not something me projectional pa.rtem and t he 'Gestalt laws' .
imm ediately given in the stimulu s-situation. " T hose phenomena which Kotfk a (Pri"t:ipl~t oj Gm alt Plyrhology, New
York 1935, p. 166) sap: ' When simple sym -
are man ifestations of a 'space' may be indications like ' from here to there' , metry is aehie vable in tw o dimensions, we
or an experience of narr owness, openn ess, enclosure etc" discrete indications .hall ,ee a plane figure; if it requ ire, three
with ourselves functioning as a centre. We may move the ' space-centre ' d imen,ion l, t hen we shall see a solid .' We
know , how ever, that simp le symme trical
by concentrating our attention on a far object C' I put myself in your place '), figure .are usually tw o-dimensional, and we
or even by moving it into an imagination. But a more developed space- also know that it uhs tr aining 10 perceive
tw~imeMional rep rescnut ion. of solid. :I'l
schema is usually an object on such a high level that it escapes elucidation. tri-dim ensional. A child or a bushman does
If we really try to imagine Euclidean space as uniform extension in all nut experience Koffka 's figure of a ru be as a
ru be. aDd we must conclude that the dra wing
directions, we discover that this is impossible. Even to imagine an infinitely does flO{ ,,~ts.mly release a spHiai per-
long straight line is an impossibility. We may perh aps conceioe such thi ngs, ception ; il only has this effect when the
perceiving indiv idual possesses the adeq uate
but we cannot perceive them. T hus we have to repeat that they are human
schemata. Th is implies th.l t our Khema ta
constructions and not given a priori, Our perception of space. therefore, shih to th ree dimensions when a two-di-
can be described as always changi ng intermediary objects where our own mensional ' hypot hesi. ' offen;:l low probability
8 for a corrt perception.
space-schemata function as intentional poles. S6
87 A common com ment when looking at
mod ern abstract art, is that one d oes not
,wdn-sland anyt hing . What is requi red , how_
SC H EMA VARI ANTS ever, il all adequate experience,
38 ' Wir diirfe ll abet nie vergessen, da ",
The elemen tary perceptional schemata which have been outlined above, d ese Art des Erlebnisses , heute auf eine n
mediate a world of simple physical things. In different cultures these kleincD Teil der g<:gemtindlicllen Welt be-
5Chrinkl. tina urtiiml iehen Fassung swel..:
schemata are ' mixed ' with more particular intentional poles with 'colour ' enutamm t, in der di e ganz.c Welt ausdruc ks-
perception in characteristic ways. In our western culture we distinguish m.issig , gesicllthaft. lebcnd ig war.' H . Werner :
E"twic~f""gsptydlolor:i~ , "{umhen t9S3., pp.
strictly between living and inanimate objects, and we pursue intentions
1, also pp. 259 fl.
where the invariant physical properties of things are the main goals. We
usually try to ' understand ' the situation, and our perception becomes
diffuse and unsatisfactory if the stimulus does not fit our simple categories, a1
' Primitive' man behaves in a completely different way. All things are
spontaneously experienced as anima ted and living. Such a 'physiognomic'
or ' magic ' perception intends the 'expression' of things. In our culture
we only experience othe r persons in this way. sa Anthropomorphism ' is
a particular type of physiognomic perception, where human characteristics
are read into everything. Schematizations resulting from experiences with 39 In China the eolour ~(I/ i. correlated
wilh : bird , warmth , biner n= ; while gu m
other human beings arc employed as more general intentional poles. g~ with : dugno. wind and scume ss. See

Another kind of intermediary object which still is very important, and Waner : op. cit., pp. 61 fl .

in primitive man basic, results from the confusion of different sense- 90 Th is mnns that FJ1ieular feelin" are
not II priori; in
connected with Ihe th ings
modalities. A well-known case of this ' synaesthesia ' is the seeing of other words. the qlL1.l itia :ore culturally
colours on hearing music. In the old Chinese culture the colours were determinai.
attached to different realms of objects and properties, and the Zuni-Indians 91 Accordingly art and rd ig>on are steadily
losing their import ance in modern soxiety.
assign a colour to each of the main directions. !9 Child-psychology shows
92 See Waner : op. cit . p. 171.
that early experiences usually have a synaesthetic character, and when we
9) ' Ein Fiji- Mann sagt einem Fot Kher':
as grown-ups say that a thing ' looks heavy and soft ', we still perceive " Ein Ding hat Knit - mana _ wenn es
synaesthetic phenomena. in Tiligkeil i,, ; n hat kein mana, wenn es
nkhl arbeiter. . W"mer: op. cit . ""8) .
Th e intention of the 'expression ' means that the 'feelings ' come to
9-l Werner: op. cir., pp. 259 fl.
dominate perception. The feelings, however, arc not mystical qualities
!n We cannot say thaI the ' Wehbild ' of
which exist independently of the objects. They also have to be described primitive man is les, 'corrce! ' th an ou r owo.
. in terms of objects' , and are to be understood as a particular kind of It is true that he d oc, not master his surround-
intermediary object where' values ' (or cultural objects in general) ' colour ' ing' satisfactorily , as hi. ability of ebureaion
" very limited. He is therefore unable to
the situation. i/O No perception is in reality completely free from an emo- define the bcron (objects) which should be
t ional content ; it is only in the laboratory of the psychologist that we ronttoll ed. lIul neither is our own 3Julytiellt
or pseudc -analyrical . ni rude vcry close to life.
can isolate those pure schcmatizations which have been mentioned above. because il omits relevant nu:lllJX"! and does not
In our culture, though, it is typical that we consider the pure objects as reach s)nthetical conc lusions. .o\ n adequate
conduct must be based upon me ability .of
our ideal goals." Primitive man, instead, structu res the world according d ,ll"g;"g the attitude acconling 10 the Au/-
:0 the emotional relationships to things." H e does not, as we do, intend g,,/;>" of the situation.
:he more invariant properties of things, and his world becomes unstable 96 Werner : op. eil. pp. Il6 ff .
and variable. T he same things have a different character according to the
context where they appear;" In spite of the changeable environment of
primitive man, his culture may be labelled revolution-free ' . ~ To survive
he is dependent upon an immutable soddy of which he forms an integral
?art.9$ Children, too, from an early stage of development, show the same
aeed for fixed rules; " In both cases the concept of order expresses itself
as the determining condition for all human behaviour, and at the same
r ime we recognize the need to cling to any acquired order. Th is can give
perception the character of d(!enc( rather than the collection of information.
The perceptive variants outlined above are not accidental, but result
irom concrete experiences. T hey represent possible organizations of reality,
....nd their development in the individual is determined by cultural, social.

49
and personal factors, 91 On the other hand , we can within any culture
recognize characteristic errors of perception. These may follow from an
insufficient organization of the situation due to the lack of appropria te
schemata, or from the employment of wrong schemata. The last case often
presents itself as trom pe-l'oeil or as a confusion of Sein und Schein (we
marry the girl because of her beauty).
THE ORGA.NtS~ IN THE E NVIRON~ENT
9i We can of course imagin e' 'impossible '
organb<at ions, such as a schema which m3kcs
us cJtpericncc ma"ivc stones a, 'light' . '1m
pn..iblc' organizatio ns posse" a ", i" i",u m of
probability (or giving us 3ny valid infcrmaucn
300ut reality. Th c schcmal3 of primitivc man
rubfrcriuly posse.. 3 minimum of ]>T"Olhility
foe being adcqU3te. U bIer h3ppeninp . how
thae they fail, th c C)' cs :lI"C u,ually d osed 10
this b et.
98 ' lcb bin mcinc Welt '. Witlgcn Slcin :
TractaJl<l 5.63.

The psychology of perception teaches us to refuse naive realism. The world

' is' not as it immediately appears to each of us. We always have to take
intc consideration that our perceptions may be superficial or even wrong.
Any situation in which we have to participate is perceived in relation to
our previous experiences. T his means that we organize the situation accord-
ing to our perceptual schemata. And we have seen that the schemata are
only common on a fairly low, everyday level. If we put a modern sportsman
in from of one of Michelangelo's slaves, he 'integra tes ' it in his world
by saying : 'a man of stone'. We become what we do, and We do what
we are. 91
Our perceptions are, as we have seen, intermediary objects, The stimulus-
situation usually offe rs many possibilities for the choice of intentional poles,
and often We ourselves contribute decisive poles which are not to be found
in the extern al situation. Thi s happens for instance when a bank-note looks
larger than a piece of paper of the same size, For everyone of us particular
stimuli will be connected with particular coherence-systems (schemata)
durin g. the process of perception. We can also express this by saying that
a particular stimulus produces particular expectations. In most cases the
same stimulus will give rise to several different expectations, among which
one is of particular intensity. If a man talks Swedish, we expect that he
is a Swede, although we might also believe with a certain degree of prob-
ability that he is a compatriot who wants to fool us. Thus we spontaneously
perceivc a Swede when he opens his mouth. We sec and hear what we
expect, and in this way the given stimulus becomes meaningful, We per-
ceive the stimulus as a manifestation of an intermediary object, in our
example the schema' Swede' , and everything this implies of positive and

5
negative propert ies. Every time our perception is unsatisfactory, we should 99 II. C,n rril : Th~ 'Why' of man's E;>; -
pcricncc, Princeton r950. p- 128.
have to revise our expectations and make new schematizations. We can
100 Rrumw ik b" worked out , very inler_
only enlarge our world in this way. 99 The objects thus represent and e. ting di.:l.gr,m for tbe description of tbe
mediate each other, at the same time as they form totalities which are relationship between the organi<m :In<! die
en vironme nt . See Brunswik: ' The Co ncept ual
something more ' than the sum' of their components. An object is Focus of Syems', in Marx : op. cit., p. 132.
defined through certain objective properties. But we rarely react to these. 101 Tbi. is probably wbat Wittgenstein im-
We do not react to the weight or shape of a cushion, but perceive it as plies when he Soays: ' Ich bin ab o der Mcin-
ung. die Probleme im We.en tlichen entgiiltig
something to sit upon. We thus react to relations between objects, to
gelo.t zu haben. Und ....enn ich micb nichr
changing phenomenal conditions. hlerin ere, 50 besteht der Wen diC$CJ: Arbcil
Th e schemata, as we have understood, arc "habits of perception' which ",weiten. darin . da u sie u;gt. wie 'wenig
darnit gct:ID ist , dass diese Problemc gelOsi
have become established in such a way that they acquire the character of sind .' (Introduction 10 Tr iJCtdlus .)
. quasi-objects". They possess a lower degree of objectivity (stability) than
zhe concepts of science, but may in spite of this be common to a more or
.ess extensive collectivity. A 'way of life' is rather characterized by such
common quasi-objects than by contemporary scientific theories. T he world
mediated by a more or less ' public ' perception therefore diverges from
:he system of pure objects of science. It is characterized by Roating transi-
:ions and an infinity of shades. A descriptive analysis of this phenomenal
world, however, can only be carried through in term s of the pure objects.
Our environment can only be described "vom Gegenstand her' , and the
-rganism is characterized by the objects which are accessible to it. 100 We
.hould be careful, however, not to form a belief tha t perception and science
mediate two (or more) difJa~nt worlds. What is said above only refers
-o diffe rent representations of the same world. Science is based upon the
-riterion of objectivity, and therefore offers us common standards. The
:aly possible type of description is the scientific one, but we have not done
with the world in having described it. 101

5'
2. Symbolization

OBJECT AND DESCRl mON

Our actions presuppose an organization of the environment. T his organiza- 1 ~ Pi~~ "" Inhddu: op. cit., p. 11.
tion consists, as we have seen, in abstracting objects from the im mediately 1 The wocd describe" here me~m 10 render
an objective account of something.
given phenome na. I T he objects, or the form we assign to the world, are
J The word. ' ord cc' , 'form ' , and '.r.r uc-
expressed in our behaviour. But we have also suggested that for many ture' are u..w as 'plO!I}"IItl.
purposes it is necessary to fix the objects by means of signs, so that they 4 Brun.wik : W..hrm-hm""g.. . !"'1S;m.
may be talked about, described and ordered into systems. " The more
complex and differentiated the environm ent becomes, the more we shall
need a large number of r; symbol-systems' which allow for co-operation
and fellowship.
We can only describe order, because every description aims at the
demonstration of similarities. The objects are the order or form of realit y.
The phenomena arc immediately given with form, as manifestations of
objects, and this form is their meaning. T his does not imply that the
objects cause the phenomena. The phenomena have no causes, but appear
(present themselves) in a certai n order . The meaning of the phenomeno n
is the context in which it appears. We th us understand that ' phenomenon'
and ' object ' are two aspects of the same matter. W e abstract the most
invarian t properties of the phenomena and call them objects.
We can only describe the phenomena in term s of objects because we
can only describe similarities (relations) between phenomena, or structure, J
.\ny description, any science, therefore, has to be "vom Gegensta nd her ' . 4
.\ 'phenomenological' description is an illusion, as it necessarily has to
classify the phenomena, that is, it has to be carr ied out in terms of objects.
It is not as a matter of fact evident how the phenomena should be classified,
as the phenom ena may have several properties in common. We could, for
instance, classify according to colour, and give the same designation to

53
a Chinese and a yellow cheese. Although this example seems exaggerated, 5 v. F. Lenzen: P~ouJurei oj Empi~i((/l
Sciena. Chicago 1938, pp. 3' If.
it often happens that we classify according to conspicuous, but superficial
6 Willi" m ' "mn said thaI il is One of ,he
similarities. Under the pressure of new experiences, however, we will have basic iOlercsls of man not to cOOlradict
to discard inconvenient classifications. Thus we no longer divide the himsdf.

material th ings into the 'substances' (objects) earth, air, fire and water. ~ Brumwik: Wah,.,.,ch""mg.. pam",.

but order them according to atomic numbers. 5 T he demand for efficient 8 Panons Shih: op. cir., pp. 51) If.

classifications means that we are trying to obtain an order of a certain

dura bility (invariance), which is ' objective' and common. " In describing,
it is of fundamental importance to choose the most suitable objects of
comparison, or "dimensions" ( Vagldchsdim~nsion~n)_' The objects, thus,
arc neither accidental nor given a priori, but constructed to serve particular
purposes. We say that our world of objects is false if it does not coincide
with our experiences, that is, if it does not permit correct predictions.
' Closeness to life' or 'suitability ' are therefore characteristics of objects
which do not lead to conflicts.
T he objects may be arranged into systems which describe the world.
In classical mechanics, for instance, the concepts' space', time', mass',
morernent ", velocity' , and acceleration' are defined th rough their
functional interrelations. This corresponds to the fact that the phenomena
do not appear in separation, but connected with each other. By means of
systems of interrelated concepts this state of affairs can be described and
empirical 'laws' established. a Magical' laws, such as the influence of
ritual on the weather, may be considered a primitive form of science which
has to be discarded when experience shows that its assumpt ions are wrong.
Science can only test its empirical inductions through new experiences
(experiments). Scientific theories, therefore, are always hypotheses about
reality, and only practical experiences can decide if they are appropriate.
Science orders the experiences into an objective and invariant world of
objects. In this way the experiences of others arc also made available to
serve as a basis for our actions in a common world.
When we describe a phenomenal complex, we therefore have to intro-
duce a suitable number of interrelated objects which serve as dimensions
of comparison. Thus we describe the position of a point in Euclidean spaee
by means of 3 co-ordinates. The co-ordinate-system is an abstract construe-
tion not to be found in nature, but which, thank s to its logical form ,

54
has shown itself very practicable. It may also happen that we describe
another p henomenon by means of 3 dimensions of a completely different
kind, as for instance a colour as a product of three precisely defined 'colour-
objects' (e. g. hue, saturation, intensity). We may very well say that our
colour is defined in a tri-dimensional 'space' , but this space of course has
nothing to do with a Euclidean space. The type and number of the
dimensions are chosen according to their suitabilit y, and it would be a
fundamen tal misunderstanding to read any ' number-mysticism ' into this
state of affairs. We therefore have to reject statement s saying that' the
world is five -dimensional ' or that modern painting is based upon
the four Einsteinian dimensions'. 9 The success of a scientific investigation
depends upon the suitability of the dimensions chosen. It is just as wrong
to divide everything into subordinate bits as to support an oversimplifying
-totaliry-view". In the last case we would ' freeze ' the world into a few
arbitrary and static categories, a tendency which has been rath er comm on
in recent science and philosophy.
Jean Piaget has shown that the child's adaptation to its environment
takes place by means of ,; experimentation '. By handling things, by always
new operations, the child forms an idea of the relevant similarities and
dissimilarities, in other words, it atta ins kno wledge of objects. This develop-
ment is usually accompanied by a linguistic education. 10 T he child thus
builds up its world through senso-motoric operations. " Science, therefore,
is noth ing but an accurate and systematic continuat ion of the activities
of daily life. Both daily life and scientific work are based upon insight
into the lawful patterns of our experiences. I~ Any action would be im-
possible if we did not know that things are (relatively) permanent , and
that we may expect a certain ' behaviour ' from them. In daily life we
base our actions upon conscious or unconscious h ypotheses about what will
happen if we behave in a certain way, while science constructs experiments
to verify its hypotheses. 13 A scientific law, therefore, has the purpose of
making the prediction of future occurrences possible, but as it is always
the result of a limited number of observations, it docs not offer full secur ity.
A law is never absolute, but has only a higher or lesser degree of proba-
bility. " Th is does not imply that science no longer aims at objectivity.
A statistical law is just as concrete and objective as an absolute law. 15
55
9 A characteristic book litle : 11 0", E1:-
il/( na Fh'c-JimCllliolla/? (F . Okland, Osln
1949)
10 Piag~t : op _ cit.. paim .
II Th e cn n~pt 'stra ight Iin~ ' .thus. is a
result of the oper ation 'to ~i m ar'.
J~ Lenzen: 01'. cit. , p- 110.
Il J- JOrgensen : Illak J"inK til Logikefl 0e
.\I~load~re", Kiibo,nh~m 1942. 1'1'_ ,6If.
14 V. Kraft : lkr Wiefler Kreis, Wien 1950.
p. 13i
15 ~~ H . Reichenbach - Vcr Aujl/l-"e a",
willMSdlllf tlidUfl PAilol0pAic . Berlin ' 95' .
pp. 184 fl. The term ' hypothesis' uow.l1 y
m~~n o ~ theory whoor probability h~o OO( yet
heen innotiK~,~d . The tCllIl ' law'. in>lead.
should bo, reserved for th'""lries which f'O'oo,
~ hiW! empirical p~bility. In th~ p.1ot the
laws of n~,u", hm the ehu~Cltt o( oonsl ~nr,.
hnlOl:ht'CS' , UUt i" "'mmption. ~boU I Ih~
u iSiena of :lbsoIUl~ I:Iwo. Tod"y we regard
the I:Iwl (the objects) as prob:o.biliry hypo-
theses', Th i, .u!e of :Iff"irs. ho"'c>-cr. is
hJrd ly known by {he b~'ma n , who reg;trdl
the $(i~nrifie Iawo :lS abwlute mnh. To SlIp-
port the hypothelis of "n " bw lme or self-
evirl~nt truth one point. to mathematics.
which certainly does not admit :my ' u~.
tainl y '. ~Iath ematiC5 . hnwe..~r, io a purdy
J nJlycic :Ktivity. This is illustr ated by the
development of ~metry . The non-Euclidean
geometries ar~ just :IS sdf'~"id~nt ' as the
F.udidc~n, and play an impo rtant role in
mod~ro pl1,.. i, . . Euclid ean geometry, and
m~lh~m~,i~\ io g~o~fal . tl1crcfore , do not
cxprels any II prio"; prol"'n ies of our world.
(See H . MeKhkow.ki: IVa" dl,m Kc" a~s m,,
lA~mdtilchnJ De"l(e"l, Braunschweig ' 956. al",
I. ~1 . l\och~ mki : Dic zritgenOl1irchen Defll(-
mcthod~", Ik rn '954 . PI'. 122 fl. ) Mathe-
matics is oot found io oa ture , b UI is con.
structed bv man to help describing nalur~ .
Th erc is o'o!hiog mystical abo ut th~ fact th aI
SOme natu ral fnrms cao b.: described by meanS
of simple numerical rdations.
Scientific laws are therefore not to be understood as rules which nature 16 Parsons : op. cit., p. 4. C;Irn;Ip: op. cit.,
t;Ilks ;Ibou t ' phpische ', 'f remd-psjchiscbe ",
must obey; rather are they rules we have to follow if we want to adjust and 'geistige' G~genstande.
ourselves to the environment. In general we may say that science aims at 17 Cun;Ip : op. cit. , pp. 30, ';6.
describing as pure objects as possible. It abstracts from the immediately 18 CMn;Ip : op. cit., p. 69.
given phenomena for this purpose, and overlooks all finer shades for the 19 'Si g ns have the power to select respomes
benefit of a univocal order. in people'. Cherry: op. cit., p. :14].
Ir is convenient to divide our environment into l physical ' , ~ social '
and cultural ' objects. 16 Together, these make up ' the world ' . The classes
of objects are logically interrelated. Th e cultural objects (ideas, works of
art etc.) are known through their-social or physical manifestations, 11 while
social objects are known through the study of behaviour (physical manifes-
tations). Th e physical objects, finally, are known through observation, and
may be reduced to sense-data or phenomena. Th is docs not imply that
the higher objects ' consist of' the lower ones; it is a matter of course that
a cultural object is different from and something' more ' than its physical
manifestations. IS But it is important to notice that the higher objects are
known through the lower ones, and that statements about the higher ones
may be controlled by means of statements about the lower ones. T he world
can be considered a polyphonic pattern of chains of objects belonging to
different levels.
The division into physical, social and cultural objects corresponds to
the division of labour in science. Taken together these classes of objects
make up a suitable system of dimensions for the purpose of studying
human actions and products. A study of architecture must also be built
upon this foundation.

SY M BOL AND SEMIOTIC

On the basis of discriminations and operations we construct our world

of objects, and we give names to the objects. A name does not designate
a phenomenon (an experience), but a particular class of similarities between
phenomena. T he name is of course a purely conventional sign, it is freely
chosen on the basis of a common agreement. Our language therefore is
both a necessary expedient and an obstacle to the creation of a coherent
world. It has a tendency to ' freeze ' obsolete classifications. l~ T his tend-
ency is often hidden behind the term ' common-sense ' . In our changing lQ R. Catnap: ' Logical Fou ndations of the
Unity of Sci~n,~ ' , in S ncyclopcdia and Un;.
and always more complex world this has often led to dang erous and firJ Scir1lu , Chi~ago 1937, p. 49
unnecessary conflicts. Just as the scientist has to give his concepts an ever 21 Hcid egger, for instanc~ , as""tlS that the
hig her degree of precision, we arc also forced to do the same in our daily word 'nothing' denoles a particularly mystic.ill
essence.
life and our work. We have all experienced h ow political propaganda,
22 T he concept of l~ngth is d~fin~d in terms
in particular, suffers fro m a meaningless use of language , and we have of lhe operations we me to m~asur~ a length .
mentioned that this also holds true for the architectural debate. 13 In Trll(liltut Wittge n"~In st,ltes: ' Wir
Many attempts have been made to dear up this situation. T he most machen uILS Biklcr dec T atoachen.' (a . l) ' Da.
Bild ist ein Mod~n dcr Wirk lichh it. (a.u)
basic insight into the problem is due to operationalism ". One has simply Das Bild k.mn iro~ Wirklichkeir abbild~n .
asked the question: 'under what concrete circum stances are we allowed dcren Form es hat .' (a.I71) ' Das Bild In wie
(i n Mam ab an d ie Wirklichkcit angelegt.
to usc a particular word ? ' 20 T he purpose of putting this question is to
(a.15u ).
find a method whieh may establish the conta ct between the words (the
objects) and our imm ediate experiences. Accord ing to traditi onal philo-
sophy the words represent' ideas' whi ch have an absolute existence inde-
pendently of our experience. 21 Modern science, however, has been forced
to realize that the meaning of the words lies in the relationship between
language and experience. A term is defined relative to the situations where
it is employed. Instead of imagining an absolute reality mediated by the
words, a reality which will always run into conflicts with the forces of
.:hange, we have to look upon language as a flexible tool corresponding
:0 an objective (but not absolute) world of changing empir ical objects.
An ' operational definit ion ' , therefore, consists in telling how a concept
.s used, and we recognize the correspondence with Piaget's investigations
: ,0 the formation of concepts. 22 Compl etely carried through, the operational
method attempts [ 0 reduce all statements to the simplest possible operations
elementary experiences), such as pointing at a thing and saying its name.
This means that the objects arc defined by the operations which have
ciade us know them.
Language is a symbol-system . A symbol-system has to be constructed
.J. such a way that it easily adapts itself to regions of the object world.
"his adaptation is possible by means of a common logical form . n "Sym-
colization ' therefore means a representation of a state of affairs in another
-tediurn by means of structural similarity . T he world of objects is very
. omplex and varied, and we need a large num ber of different symbol-
rrstcms to 'describe ' it. Where language fails, mathematics has shown

57
itself to be very , useful. The arts are also symbol-systems, and we will Z. Parsons: op. cit . p. 11.

later render an account of their roles. In general we may say that each 25 Sec w. Andr~c : D iU GOlluh~us "<rIJ Ji~
U'I(J'm~" J~s Bau~ns ;m alun O';~flI , Berlin
symbol-system has a different 'capacity of symbolization ', which is defined 1930, p. 44
in terms of the objects it can repre ~nt . Certain ' forms ' (sign-complexes) l/i Carna p : Logical. .. , p. 13.
arc better fitted for receiving certain 'contents ' th an others. Th is corre-
spondence, however. is not univocal. Any form is usually capable of receiv-
ing varying contents within certain limits. A complex content may also
through convention be represented by a simple form. In this way, however,
we do not create any sym bol-system . The nation, for instance, may be:
analyzed as a system of properties, but th e flag cannot be submitted to a
corresponding analysis. The flag, therefore, does not form part of a class
of symbols which is able to represent the properties of the nation. A symbol-
system has to consist of elementar y symbols signifying the elementary
properties of the higher objects. This implies that it needs articulation
(differentiation) to be able to treat the higher objects. The Rag is ' banal'
because its content , is determined once for all. In the same way the
elementary parts of the symbol-systems are banal. But they may be: used
to form a totality which is not banal. When, for instance, we hoist the
flag on our national day, the flag becomes a part of a larger whole and
we perceive it as a manifestation of certain fundamental qualities of the
nation. It is important that a symbol-system does not contain contradictions.
If we happen to contradict ourselves because of inner confusions in the
symbol-system, we will have to improve it. We may therefore conclude
that our concepts only possess meaning within a logically coherent language.
] ust as the phenomena are defined by the context in which they appear,
a sign has only meaning within a system. A meaning, therefore, is always
a relation. Culture is based upon the development of symbol-systems which
can keep and spread experiences. 24 It is characteristic that the first stable
culture in Sumer (before 5000 B. C.) was made possible by the use of
pictures, written language, and architecture. 25
We can study the logical construction of a symbol-system without
taking its relationship to reality into consideration. Such a study is purely
formal and is called ' syntactics'. 26 Mathematics and logic are examples
of purely formal sciences which only treat their own inner coherence and
articulation. A syntactical investigation of a symbol-system, therefore, only
studies t/lC relations betwee n jzg11S, and does not tell us anything about
reality. It is "empty"; "
But we may also investigate: the relations between the signs and reality,
and return then to our operational definitions, or what is often called
' semantics'. T he operational definitions arc also kn own as "semantical
rules'. Semantics treats the relations between the sign and its designatum."
We have already suggested that a symbol-system influences its users.
T he study of this fact has been called' pragmatics' (Morris). Pragmatics
treats the relations between the sign and those who use it, and thus com-
27 The synto<:tical investigations of Carnap
.ho w that our language posse'ses a gre.>t
number of .emetlees which apparently express
facts. but which in reali!)' arc ' empty' or
' tau tological' . Such sentences arc neither uue
nor la b e, because dley only express linguistic
habits. (5 R. Carnal' : Loghrhe Syn lax dN'
Sf'T<IC'he, w te- '934).
U Sec S. S. Steven. : Psychology and (he
Scicoce of Sciencc', in Marx : 01'. cir., p. 50.
29 Sec: C. :\{orri" Foundations of the Throry
of Signs, Chicago 1938.

prises all the psychological and sociological factors which participate as 30 We have seen that dl e oigM form sys-
tems.
intentions and reached goals.
31 Parsons: op. cit., pp. IS fl .
Charles Morris unifies all the three aspects, syntactics, semantics, and
12 Semiotic docs not r est: upon a theory of
pragmatics in his ' T heory of Signs' or "semiotic": " Semiotic is itself a " meaning " , dle term "mCllning" is ra dle! 10
symbol-system, a language to talk about signs' .30 In its three ' dimensions' be: defined in me terms-of semiotic. ' (Morris:
01'. eil. p. t+.)
semiotic aims at understanding the 'rules ' for the use of signs. It is not
33 Morris : op. cit. p. 47.
necessary to be conscious of the rules to be able to usc a symbol-system, 3'l Morri1: 01'. cit., p. 23.
but the rules represent the forms we have to employ to apreS$ ourselres 35 :\Iorr is; op. cit., p. +1.
in a meaningful way. Morris stresses the fact that the three dimensions
are interrelated. The syntactical organization of a symbol-system is a
function of the purposes it has to serve (it must for instance be constructed
in such a way that it might become com mon), although it also has its
independent pattern consistency' . 31 The pragmatic effec t is correspond-
ingly a function of the semantical dimension. The meaning of a sign is
compk td y described by indicating its three semiotical aspects. The meaning,
therefore, is not something which has to be 'added to ' the semiotical
description. 12 Neither is it, as is often maintained, something purely private
or subjective. By means of semiotic, 'meaning ' can be studied objectively."
The rules for the use of signs arc in daily life rarely formulated in an
exact way, rather they have the character of habits or tradition. 34
Semiotic sums up the efforts of science in a simple formula, and Morris
concludes: Indeed, it does not seem fantastic to believe that the concept
of sign may prove as fundamental to the sciences of man as the concept
of atom has been for the physical sciences or [he concept of cell for the
biological sciences.' l5

59
 Till now our language has been the main subject-matter of semiotic.
but lately we have also started to investigate visual and auditive signs, such
as diagrams, images. traffic-signs and works of art. 36
36 Cherry : op. cit., p . 306, deflnes 'lign'
in rhi, way : ' ... a rransmin ion or cOn~trUCI,
by which one orga nism ~fla:t.. the behaviour
Or su re of another-. in a communication
sit\l~tion . "

31 ' Communication ren<kn true 5Oci~1 life

CoMMUNICATION AND INFORMATI ON practicable, foe cornmun ia lion me~n.J aq p ni-
:ution. Com munication h3. enabled rhe
lOCi al unil In grow, from the village to the
So far we have defined the purpose of the signs as the description of lown , 10 tbe modern ciry.ure, u nli] we
experiences or objects. Th is, of course. has the ulterior purpose of creating tod ay I t t org=i=d systems of mUIu.al de -
pendence gro wn 10 cover the whole hemi -
a basis for human 'communication' and co-operation. T hrough commun- sphere. ' (Cherry: op. cit ., p. i )
ication we get information which serves our behaviour." In general, infor- 38 Pan OM : op. cit., p. 5.
mation is gained either through direct perception or by means of com- 19 Cherry : e p- cit. p. 6.
munication between individuals. We have under stood that any perception '!Q Cherr y : op. cit ., pp. 13 fl.
(of a message) consists in grasping an order or structure. But we have
also seen that perception and communication are only possible under
certain conditions. Th e main presupposition is that we can interpret signs,
in other words. that we know the symbol-systems that are employed. When
a sign is presented to us, or when we use it ourselves, we expect particular
consequences. We may say that we have attained a syst~m of expectations",
A particularly important part of this system is Alter's possible reactions to
our own behaviour. " Communication, therefore, is based upon common
symbol-systems which are attached to common behavioural patterns or
forms of life '. ~
Within a symbol-system a single sign may be connected with several
others with varying degrees of probability. If a sign is followed by one
whose appearance in this place within the system has a maximum degree
of probability, in other words, if our expectation is completely correct,
we do not get any new information because we know in advance what
is going to happen. Th e message is ' banal'. If, on the contrary, the sign
is attached to another one whose appearance in this place has no probability
whatsoever, it is impossible' for us to perceive any coherence or order, and
the message becomes meaningless. We thus understand that a meaningful
message presupposes the use of symbol-systems which are connected with
systems of expectations, and that the message has to contain a certain
moment of surprise, without breaking completely with the expectation. '!Q

60
 Information reacts on the expectations, that is to say. new experiences ~l Cherry : op- clr., Pp - 56, 248.

demand a more or less thorough revision of our world of objects. 42 Cherry : op: cit . p. 250.

Th is may be called the pragmatic effect' of the information, or in the U Cherry: op. cir., P 7' .
terminology of information theory : ' feedback ' . ~l In general. feedback +IMorris describes the purpose of seieaee
~s a mapping of the structure of the ex_
means that the organization of a mechanism is regulated by its achieve- i.te ntial'. (C. Morr;, : Science. An ;lnd
ment. If the performance is not satisfactory, the mechanism will have T echnology'. T he Ke"JO" Review 1939)

to undergo a change. Similarly, our expectations will have to be revised

if they do not allow appropriate predictions. Feedback-control is built
into several machines, and the .human organism possesses self-regulating
physiological mechanisms such as the automatic control of the body
temperature. To learn , and to adjust oneself to the environment in general,
must be considered a feedback.process. 42
Any human product is thus a tool', serving the purpose of bringing
order into our environment, and all these tools have to possess a particular
logical form to manage their task. Non-verbal communi cation is just as
dependent upon a structured symbol-system as verbal communication.
Whether we employ gestures, other kinds of actions, images or sounds,
these have to be ordered and connected with a system of expectations to
be meaningful. Cherry thus considers form as the main common denomi-
nator of science and art. H

ABSTllACT10N AND CONCRETI ZATION

So far we have mainly discussed scientific description, but we have also

suggested the existence of symbol-systems which serve other types of
communication. Science takes care of one particular kind of symbolization.
It aims at giving as exact and objective descriptions of reality as possible,
and it is abstracting because it divides the world into ' pure ' elements
which are organized into systems. oK The signs employed by science repre-
sent pure objects, that is, objective situations. We have seen that the
abstraction of objects is a presupposition for all kind s of behaviour, and
thus understand that science is a continuation of one of the aspects of
daily life. But in daily life our attitudes change, and perception has only
rarely the pure objects as its goal. Instead it grasps diffuse intermediary
objects which surely may be analyzed, but which as immediately given

61
totalities are of such a nature that language: offers no words for them. 45 Bru nswik : W.."mrAmu"g... p. ::'23.

The perception of a tree, for instance, is not equivalent to a scientific
description of the tree, and an analytic ' explanation' of a poem does not
replace the direct experience of the poem, any more than a description
of an experience is the same as a poem about this experience. If the last
statement is correct, the poem must be understood as a symbolization of
a kind different from the scientific description. But before we investigate
this problem more thoroughly, we have to say something more about the
relationship between description -and the concretely given phenomena.
While our perceptions are always conditioned by attitudes, science tries
46 BrullSwik : W"......rhm..", .... p. ll3. If
we want to understand the mood of another
penon, a glance at hi. fil(;e may be enough.
..-hereas a p'y<hological invenigation would
lake :l very long time, and perhaps never
reach irs goal.
47 Today an is often considered an ' un-
necessary luxury ' . and religion is rejected
because it docs ncr offcr a 'scientifically cor-
reel' picture of [he world . Our schools arc
oac-sidcdly oriented lowardJ the collection
of ' knowledge '.

to be independent. Or rather, it prescribes a particular analytic attitude.

T his attitude is basic to what we call thought. T hought aims at a security
which perception does not offer. To arrive at this security thought has to
abstract, that is, to order into categories and to overlook the finer shades.
T hought is not, like perception, based upon schematization; " although
it employs schematic concepts, and it is therefore the only reliable tool
for the construction of an ordered, objective world of objects. In complex,
concrete situations demanding quick decisions thought, on the contrary,
is handicapped. It is too slow and does not spontaneously grasp the relevant
intermediary shades. For this purpose, perception is a much better tool.
Perception is more flexible, but less reliable. Thought is (approximately)
exact, but clumsy and bureaucratic, while perception is uncertain and
spontaneously ' ingenious'. 46 Thou ght works slowly and makes conscious
all the mediating objects which are ' swallowed' in a satisfactory per
ceprion. In contrast to the exact measurements' 0f thought, perception
employs more or less trustworthy assumptions. Some objects can only be
attained through thought, as for instance all the pure constructs of science.
These objects are not to be: experienced. T heir purpose is to form a basis
for thinking. Other object-complexes, on the contrary, arc not accessible
to thought, because they fall apart during analysis, and have to be: expe-
rienced directly. In our time the scientific attitude has come to dominate
in such a way that many find it incomprehensible that man also tries to
develop symbol-systems which aim at representing the world in another
way than through analytical description. 4' Strangely enough, it is science
itself which has brought forth an ever stronger reaction against this one-
sided scientistic attitude. As we have seen above, the psychologists have 43 We will return to Parsonl' distinction
bet ween ' belief systems' and ' expreslive sys
shown that the analytical attitude is only one among an infinite number terns ' ,
of possible attitudes, and that it necessarily fails in man)" situations. The 49 Morr u lists 16 differm t rypes of dis.
sociologists, for their part, have shown that society needs symbol-systems coune ' . (See C. Morr u : Sig'u . Lang""~ and
lk"a riO' , New York 1946, p. u5)
which can mediate ethical and aesthetic ' contents ' , '" and semiotic, finally,
50 An in,piting introduction to the problem
has taught us that language may be used in several basically different ways ir given in J. Ru=h &; W. Kef:' : N o"v"Nl
which all fulfil important functions within the process of interaction. 49 Comm" niario". Berkeley 1956.
A preliminar y classification of the symbol-systems may be based upon 51 In otha word.: ' in Satz hnn nur
sagen, wie cin Ding ist , nicht .wa, es ist. ,
the realization that both our behaviour and the things we use, ' express' (Wittgenstein : Tr adatlU 3.22 1)
something about ourselves. Other persons are generally able to understand if 52 T"e Meani"g 01 Mea"ing. Lcndcn 1923.
we are happy or angry, and usually our dwellings have a personal touch ' . A corresponding classification is found in
It is therefore convenient to distinguish between ' sign language' , ' action S. Langer : P"j/Mop"y i" a N rw Key, Cam -
bridge 1941, whae . he r:a1ks about 'discursive
language ' and 'object language'. 50 T he terms may be discussed, as all and presentational symbols.' (pp. 63 ff.)
the three ' types of language ' make use of signs, but the classification is
in any case interesting. We understand that different kinds of phenomenal
totalities are important to man, and that he develops corresponding ' tools '
to handle them. Science alone does not give us a complete picture of our
world of perceptions and actions. While the phenomena make up a poten-
tially continuous universe, the objects may be compared to a grid ' with
defined points and relations between the point s, but containing large
holes'. This docs not mean that we are forced to attempt non-scientific
descriptions. Although it surely is possible to describe a non-scientific
symbol-system (e. g. theories of art), this description of course does not
substitute the direct usr of the non-scientific symbol-system. What we need
are non-descriptive symbol-systems which are able to relieve the one-
sidedness of science. 51
The distinction between symbols which' describe' and express ' is not
new. Already Plato mentioned' the old quarrel between poetry and phi-
losophy' , and later the problem has come up over and over again. We
find it in Henri Bergson's distinction between' intellectual' and ' intuitive '
cognition (understanding), and Ogden and Richards introduce the terms
referential' and ' emotive' . '2 A more fruitful handling of the problem
has become possible through sociology and semiotic, and in our opinion
Brunswik's concept of intermediary object offers the key to the core of
the matter. The basic characteristic of a non-descriptive symbol-system is
that it does not, like science, seek the pure objects; rather it concretizes
intermediary objects (coherence-systems of objects) in signs of a pronounced
totality-<:haracter. 53 Our attitude towards an intermediary object is simul-
taneously multipolar, and cannot be represented by an ' addition ' of discrete
pole-symbols. T he non-descriptive symbol-systems may of course be inves-
tigated semiotica l y. We may render an account of their purposes and
effects, the poles they merge together, and also how they are organized
themselves. Thi s investigation, again, is scientific and descriptive. Scientific
criteria for truth , however, may not be employed in connection with the
non-descriptive symbol-systems, as our conception of truth presupposes a
logical order of pure objects. The non-descriptive symbols, on the contrary,
are capable of concretizing those phenomena that science considers as
' illusions '. The perceptions of daily life are generally intermediate to the
objects and quasi-objects mediated by the specialized symbol-systems. T he
non-descriptive symbol-systems, therefore, do not give us kno wl~dge, but
experiences and directions for our conduct. To this purpose they employ
synthetical signs which mediate reality in its phenomenal totality. T his,
however, does not exclude that the non-descriptive systems can absorb
material from science and merge this with other aspects of reality. ~
53 Comp:l1"e the concept of "condensarlon '
in psyeh03IL:11y.i,. The concept of intermediar y
objeer en3bles U$ to make the vague de fini-
tions of the non-d escriptive symbol. more
precise.
~ We may create ck..criptive system, with
the aim of un<!er=nding non-d escriptive
,ystems , but we ean also make non-descriptivc
,ystenu which express ' desaiptive systems.
FiIL:Illy. we can establish d escripti ve sl'tems
which treat other descriptive Jyne ms.
" Seitnee, however, is still subject to mis
understand ings. Especi:illy gmteo<jlle is the
d aim of the 3llthro pooophh ts th3t they prac-
tise a spiritual scienee '.

S YMBOL SYSTEMS

While the goals and methods of science have been studied in great detail,
the non-descriptive symbol-systems are still hardly understood. ss We know
that several such systems exist, but how can we define their limits and
roles? Our point of departu re must be the fact that the objects are of
different oalue to us. According to their belonging to different phenomenal
contexts, they serve different purposes and mediate different higher 'goal-
objects'. A goal may be an existing object which should be attained
(through perception or direct possession), or an imagined object which
does not yet exist. That a value enters the coherence-system of poles,
implies that an object is perceived as wanted or not, relative to a goal.
It has no meaning to say that an object an sich is valuable. It only has
meaning within a system of objects serving different goals. All objects are
given with value, and the values therefore form a part of the phenomenal
 :16 s~~ Parsons & Shih : 0p. ctr., p. 5.
structure of the world. In carrying out a scientific description we try to
eliminate this fact (also when we describe values) ; in a concretization, 57 Gratification and obj ective values are not
necessarily corrd arro.. A drug addict OUk5 for
however, the objects are represented with their values. ""tisf:Ktion even when he kno~ that it i5
Parsons maintains that we can orient ourselves in three basically different harmful.

ways to the objects. The cognitive attitude consists' in trying to classify and 53 We recall the b et th at the p.:rceiffd 5iu
i. influeDccd by the ~>on:al 01" publi<: value
describe the objects; it thus corresponds to what we have called ' science ' . of the stimul cs-ooject,
Cognition is based upon the isolation of objects, whereupon the discrete S9 Patsl'lns So ShiJ5 : op. cit., 1" 16: .
elements obtained are ordered, compared, and brought into functional 60 Parsons So Shill: op . cit., p. ~8 .
relations. The cathectic attitude consists in reacting spontaneously to the
objects according to the ' gratification' they offer us. Cathexis means, in
contrast to cognition, that the objects are not pure, but 'coloured ' by
individual interests. The evaluative attitu de, finally, consists in trying to
establish norms for our relations to the objects. 56 It may be described as
a ' disinterested cathexis' : one studies (perceives) the value of things
without letting oneself become engaged. In general we may also say that
our expectations relative to the objects have thr ee different aspects : know-
ledge, satisfaction, and fixed values." Both cathexis and evaluation imply
that the object we believe that we intend forms an intermediary object
with certain goal-objects. ~s Any action may be analyzed as a product of
cognitive, cathectic, and evaluative components. S9 Th e scientist is unable
to free himself compl(te/y from subjectivity in choosing the material of
his investigation, and the artist depends on cognitive knowledge in the
conduct of his profession. Besides, the intelligibility of his message depends
upon the existence of norms. To represent the individual, one needs a
common standard, because the individual only gives us information when
we understand what its individuality consists in. T his means that the
symbol-systems cannot be completely pure. They are usually characterized
by the domination of one of the basic attitudes, such as cognition in
science. Parsons divides the symbol-systems into ideas (beliefs), expressive
symbols, and norms, according to which basic attitude is dominating. 60
T he norms can be independent moral standards, or standards for cognition
and cathexis (such as a 'style'). They are of course not to be under stood
as absolute ideals, but only as systems of varying probabilities relative to
certain goals. In this way they offer a standard (scale) for the relevance
of behaviour.

.
 Our exposition leads in a natural way to a classification of the symbol- 9 61 Th is Slate of aflair5 could be presented
by mcan5 of a d iagram where varying sym-
systems based upon a combination of the fundamental classes of objects boli2.Jtiom are placed' throu gh a cembi-
(physical, social, and cultural) with the basic types of orientation towards nation of one or more oocntnion l wilh one
or mcee objccu.
these objects. 6 1 A cognitive orientation to physical objects produces what
Q Pano n5: op. cit. pp. J67 ff .
we call ' natural science' , while a cognitive attitude to the social objects
6J Thil it the function of art and srchitcc-
defines the social sciences. A cognitive orientation to cultural objects gives ture when lo<:rvLng religion.
rise to the Gcistcswisscnschaitm , A cathectic orientation to physical objects 6-4 Thit word could jUII as well be applied
may produce a satisfaction of physical needs, while an evaluating atti- 10 the work of an. A ....or k of an 'Wh ich has
ba n ""dUSload, is no work of art .
tude to the same objects causes the establishment of a monetary standard.
65 Thi5 total concretization, of tUnc , i,
An evaluating orientation to cuirural objects is usually called ' taste'. T he compo.cd of subordina te OO!lacOza{;OQ5.
matter becomes still more interesting when we simultaneously direct the
same type of orientation towards several objects (i. e. towards an inter-
mediary object), or when the same object is simultaneously intended in two
or more different ways (cognitive + cathectic ctc.), or, finally, when several
objects and orientations merge into one complex process of symbolization.
Art thus seems to be characterized by a merging of cognitive and cathectic
orientations, and the different' arts' by directing this mixed intention'
towards different combinations of objects. Social realism ' , for instance,
shows a cognitive-cathectic intention of physical-social objects. A combina-
tion of cognitive and evaluating orientations gives rise to what we call
ideologies.
Parsons discusses some of these problems, but his treatment of the
two large groups of symbol-systems we know as art and religion is hardly
satisfactory. He characterizes religion as a non-empirical evaluative belief
system' 41, but overlooks the fundamental role played by concretizing
symbols in religion. H e is surely right in saying that many religious '
conceptions (e. g. God as an old man with a long, white beard ') can
be likened to the ' models' of science (e. g. the atoms as small solar
systems'), thus playing the role of mediating symbols which should
facilitate the experience of the deeper meaning. " But this is surely not
the case with the dogmas and the liturgy of the higher religions, which
can only be understood as concretizations of very complex intermediary
objects, often called ' mysteries' . 64 T he pretension of religion is just to
organize the world completely , and this can only be achieved throug h a
total' concretization. " The parables of Christ are typical examples of

66
the concretizing' method ' of religion. In the Roman-Catholic confession, 66 T hrough reformation. cognition and eva-
lu.:uion were given pride of place, and the
for instance, liturgy, church-year, sacraments and dogmatic teaching are non-descriptive concretization reduced 10 frag.
unified to form a highly comprehensive and differentiated system. A non- ments.

descriptive symbol-system of this type docs not contradict the purely fi] Compare Thor eau's integration th rough
a voluntary simplification of rhe world .
cognitive sciences, as the purposes are entirely ' different. In religion all
68 Jiir""n",n : Psykologi. . . pp. 380 II.
the basic orientations are melted together without one of them dominating.
69 T he l" Art po"r I' Art altitude has its
Th us we may with justification talk about a particular ' religious' attitude." roots in imperial Rome when collectors de.
While religion integrates all objects and orientations into one complex tached the work s of art from their real
context.
intermediary object, daily life docs not attain such an integration. If it
iO K. Gilbert and H. Kuhn : A Hir/ory
did, this would be a religious integration. Instead, daily life shows a oj .,fcsl"~I . Bloomington ' 9}1 .
pp. 4 ff .
continuous change of intentions. For primitive man the changes are few,
and the opportunity to reach an integration is present, that is, the oppor-
tunity to establish a simple, but for the situation satisfactory, cosmotheism. fi]

A ESTH ETI CS

As the type of symbol-system we call ' art ' more directly concerns us, we
will have to carry through a somewhat more detailed discussion.
Semiotically defined, aesthetics studies the ends and (formal) means
of art. " As we have already mentioned, it is not a new idea to regard
art as a symbolization alternative to thought and science. But different
theories are not lacking. Thus it has been maintained that the arts do not
serve any social or cultural purpose at all. From what has been said above,
we under stand that this tArt pour l'Art attitude or ' isolationism' is
untenable." We have seen that the meaning of a phenomenon consists
in its relations to other phenomena. It is meaningless to talk about meaning
a priori, or to imagine that the work of art tells us something only by
. representing itself ' . Instead, a work of art is perceived when its physical
manifestations arc ascribed to a coherence-system of (higher) intentional
poles. If this does not happen, it means that we remain uncomprehending,
that is, the work of art docs not tell us anything at all. Flaubert, in conse-
quence, wanted to write a book ' about nothing ' . 70 If a work of art thus
concretizes a complex of intentional poles, we can only describe it by
indicating these poles and their ' share ' in the whole. If we take a point
of view directly opposed to isolationism, and consider art as a political
and didactical tool, we also run the danger of overlooking its concretizing
non-descriptive character. Instead of art we get illustrations to ' scientific '
or ideological texts;" L'A rt pour r Art arose as a natural reaction against
such "contcxrualist' tendencies under Napoleon I, and must be understood
as an expression of the recognit ion that art should not be a mere illustration
to historical happenings. Both isolationism and contextualism are one-sided
in their approach to the problem. Only if we combine the knowledge of
the particular means of art with an understanding for its role in a wider
context may we arrive at a satisfactory description of its character as a
symbol-system. Isolationism and contextualism may also be understood as
theories where one single semiotical aspect is unduly emphasized. Con-
texrualism thus stresses the pragmatic factors, while the semantical question
how art-forms may carry a meaning is overlooked or reduced to non-
artistic relations (photographic or diagrammatic representation etc.). Iso-
lationism, on the other hand, as a matter of course only considers the
purely syntactical (formal) aspects, because the pragmatic and semantic
dimensions are negated by definition, including the case when the mean-
ingless term self-expression' gives the false impression of a pragmatic
component. 1'2
As a point of departure we have to consider the work of art as a
concretizing symbol, which has to be described through a complete
semiotical investigation of the objects making up its pole-system. l'3 Wt'
thus d(fin ( th( work of art as a concretization of an intermediary obj(C!.
As we have already seen, this also holds true for other types of symboli-
zation, and only the semiotical investigation can show us which poles and
symbols characterize the different ' arts' . 7~ In general, however, we may
say that art symbolizes 'value-objects' . While science describes facts, art
' expresses ' values. Art is a means of keeping and communicating values,
that is, it makes values become common. " Art therefore presupposes
cathexis, a participating perception which produces immediate grarifica-
tion. " Although we therefore are engaged emotionally by the work of
art, it would be a misconception to say that the purpose of art is to
express feelings'. The work of art concretizes intermediary objects, where
our emotional reactions only form one of the components. 71 Other symbol-
systems, such as religion and certain ideologies, also concretize value-
68
'I This funda mental misund erstandin g is
ehar~ete.i st ic
of the ' ar t' of the totalitarian
regimn of the twenti eth ceotury, and has
aho influenced monumental p"inting in mod-
ern Norway .
n 'SeI.l;.npression' ncce..arily comprises
pol~ which do not only belong to the self,
73 C. :'o lorr is: Esthetics and the Th eory of
Signs ', in Journal oj Unified Siena , Vol. 8.
' 939, pp. 1] 1 ff.
7~ Th e idea tha t the wor k of art concretiza
an interm ediary object has ib forerunners, but
the coaeepn of Bruns wik allow a more pre-
eise fonnnlation . Rader , for inst.:ma:, makes
the following n a tement : Art is the grea.t
reconciler of opposite poles wh ich. i n OUr
pnctica.l. life . ordi narily exclude: each ot her.'
(!>t. R2der: A Modern Boot of Est"~tiCl , New
York 1951. p. 1111).
7'J ' By communica.ting the .. incom muni-
Qb!c " , it (art) cnates " com munity of appre-
eiatioo to supplement the community of
scientific in terpretation.' (Rader : op. cit. ,
p? :S:'. II.)
76 Parooos: op. e il., pp. 38~ If. SlJes>CS
oom~ what one-sidedly tha t the work of art is
a.n 'objea of d irect gratification ' .
';'1 See Morris : Science. An and Techno-
logy' , T"~ Krnyon & view 1939.
objects, but in these the evaluative attitude balances or outweighs the
cathexis.
What has been said in the preceding sentences belongs to the pragmatics
which initiate the semiotical study of art. Art-history tells us that the objects
concretized by the work of art can be of the most different kinds. Th e
art of the Renaissance, for instance, was partly conditioned by the con-
temporary theories of geometry and musical harmony." More often the
' raw-material' is taken from our daily life. 79 Th e contents of a work of
art are distributed on several interconnected object-levels. Panofsky dis.
tinguishes between three levels. T he lowest one embraces all physical objects
and actions, and is named ' primary or natural subject matter ' . The second
he calls ' secondary or conventional subject matter ' , and it comprises the
meanings designated by the physical objects and actions. Thus we know
that a man pierced by arrows ' means' St. Sebastian. On the last level we
find the higher social and cultural objects mediated by the meanings,
such as the religious objects manifested by St. Sebastian. Panofsky calls
this ' intrinsic meaning or content ' . In art-history the two higher levels
are usually denominated ' iconography' and 'iconology'. 80 Th e study of
the pragmatic dimension therefore falls into two parts: the question of
the meaning of the art-forms, and the question wh y certain meanings are
intended at certain times. 31 Kn owl~dg( is always necessary to experience
the art of the past, a knowledge which centres on the semantical relations
between forms and meanings.
The syntactical study of form in art has been given much attention.
Particularly well known are Wolfflin's five pairs of Grun dbegriffc , which
were intended to describe the formal metamorphosis from Renaissance to
Baroque. " Although the concepts of Wolfflin have an empirical basis,
they are of limited use, and the attempts of other scholars to transfer
them to other historical periods must be considered somewhat unfruitful.
More and more do we realize that the artistic form is so complex that
it cannot be described by means of a few ' basic concepts'. Instead we
need a much more flexible tool. Th e decisive step to solve the problem
was taken by H ans Sedlmayr, who introduced the method of ' structural
analysis' (Strukt uranalYJ( ). Th is aims at rendering an account of 'd ie
Hierarchie der Motive in dem fenigen Werk, auf deren sinnvollen
n Stt R. Wittkower: Jf,d;~..,.al Prill
npln ill the A~ oj Humall"m . London 1949.
i9 We often hear that modern non-figura.
tive 2rt represents the Einsteinian four.
dimensional space-rime continuum. We should
not take such .Il comparison too literally. as
it is neither ne u:>ry nor possible to present
pbysicil theories in another language than
thaI of physies iudf. We C:ln say. oowcYd' ,
that boclt the theory of rclatittity and madan
art hue a common point of departure in the
bet dl:lt the phenomena do DOt crist in iso-
lalion, but relative to a sirw.tion . We then-
fore no longer KCept the idea of an absolute
and infinite tri-dimensional space, and modern
painting exhibits a ' rdatitte ' space which
cannOt be described sterecmeu kally.
$0 See E. Panofsky: M~rm;"g i" the Vuual
A~u, New Yod: 1955, p. :z6.
. 1 ' Naturalistic art '. tberefoee, is no uni-
ttOUI concept. A scientific description is just
as ' naturalistic' :IS a phowgra ph, and CTi-
dcntly there eaist an infinite number of
pon ibilities for equivalent but d ifferently
oriented descriptions.
82 Wijlfflin : op. cit.
10
 Zusammenhang und innere Funkt ion. 83 The: method of structural analysis
has shown us the inadequacy of the absolute: descriptive categories of the
past. It has even shown that the same work of art may have several 'formal
levels ' governed by different structural principles, and that each level may
have a dual or plural structure. &4 We: will later return to these problems
in connection with form in architecture.
T he method of structural analysis may be further elaborated and refined
by means of information theory. n As we: have seen, information theory
defines a structure (a system) in terms of the probability of sign-combine-
tions. Any sign is related to the others within the system by varying
degrees of probability. If only the most probable combinations appear, the
work lacks originality and corresponds to the: norm we usually call ' the
style'. Less probable combinations define the originality of the work
relative: to the style. 86 Before, the successful work of art was supposed to
coincide with the style, and one discovered with some surprise that this
ideal led to a dry and academic art. Today we recognize the underlying
misunderstanding of the role of norms. While a style, so far, has been
defined in terms of a few particular formal traits common to a number
of works of art, we should rather let' style' imply the formal probability-
structure of a symbol-system. The work of art has to express itself withi n
the limits of the norm , but without reducing these to a few self-evident
principles. 7 Artistic originality always has to be ' measured ' relative to
the style. It is a well-known fact that a work of art may be experienced
man y times without losing its import. T he information is not eliminated
by our knowing in advance what is taking place. We therefore obviously
experience the message relative to the style and not to our own expectations.
In this the work of art differs from cognitive: messages. A concretization
may be experienced over and over again, whereas knowledge is imparted
once for all. We have defined 'style ' as the formal probability-structure
of the symbol-system. As the symbol-systems reflec t the purposes they have
to serve, we understand that the style manifests social and cultura l objects
independently of any particular work of art. 88 Symbol-systems have a
varying capacity of symbolization and may thus be considered more or
less valuable. The same holds true for the individual work of art realized
within a symbol-system. It is therefore a basic misunderstanding to believe
7
53 I I. Sedlmayr: Zum Degr iff der Str uk-
luranalyK ' , in Kn'titCM Bmdllr, 193(0-2 ,
p. ISO,
&-! H . Sedlmayr : ' Zu einer OO'engo:n Kutl ot-
wiuenschah', in X ..,utwissnudlljtlicM For_
leI".", I , Balin 1931. p. 7]. Also H , Sedl-
mayr : K.. ,u! u" iI W. ,I,r! tit, Hambu.rg 1958.
.5 As far as we k llOW , this hi onl y bttn
utilized by L. B. Meyer in bis excellent writ_
ing\ : Emotio1l II" J MCllni"g in M~, Chi-
cago 1956; Ma ning in Music and Infomu.
lion Th eory' , in Journal of Aut! a ics imJ
Art CriticUm, JUDe l'fil (Vnl. XV, NO.4);
' Some Remacks on Value and Greatn ess in
Music ', ibid. , June 1959 (Vol. XVII, NO. 4).
56 Heyer : Emot;on. .. , p. 32.
S1 A full break with the style is impossible,
a. this would deprive the work of aoy i nforma -
tion value, Brunellescbi'a creation ' of the
83
Renaissance style in Florence shortly after
84 ' 400 was ponihle becam e of the T uscan
'proto-renaissance". The form s of Brunellesehi
85 were not 'completel y new ' , but connected
with certain aspects of the local tradi tion.
Th e quick spread of the new style was pos-
sible because Brun ellescbi immediately for-
mulated a consistent s~l"lD., cealizing its most
probable strucrures and thereby auting a
d imension of compari son for the whole later
dcvelopm etll. ~ also m , 3. t>oIe 1J4.
" We may foe Instance experience the geo-
metry of the wor ks of art of the Renaissance
as a symbol of the cosmic harmon y.
that all works of art are equally good ' . T his idea is a product of the 89 M~r~r : ' M~~ nin g in Music.. . ' , p. 419.

lA rt pour I'Art attitude and the general levelling of all values . 90 Meyer borrows a ter m from irtlmmalioll
th=ry and t;llks about ' cultural noise'.
Artistic meaning thus is ' measured ' relative to the probability structures
91 In experiencing mu sic w~ ~lIcou ntl'r a
we call styles. But we should also notice that the single work defines its difficulty. Th ~ musical score is not
p~r tie u la r
own individual probabilities. This is particularly evident in music, where a wurk of art in Ih~ sam~ w~y a, a build ing
or a p;!inting. It i, only a more or l~ .. , aliso
the opening theme 'determines ' what may or may not follow. Correspond- f:lCtlIry r~pr=ntation of the real artistic phe-
ing conditions can be found in the other arts. The style thus conditions ncrnenon, and hu to "" 'intl'rprct ni . The
inte rpretation requests certain de viations from
the form in general, while the theme determines the individual develop- whn i printe d (such as ' ru b.alo' etc.j. This
ment of the single work. In both cases the meaning is a function of the does flO! man. however, that these deyiation~
' are' the: work of .:lr t, :as maintainnl by
deviations from what is most probable, brilliantly labelled ' designed
Ehren ~w~i g (op. cit.) .
uncertainty ' by Meyer. 89 From this we understand that the experience of
9~ Morris : ' E<lhel.ics... ' . p. 136.
a work of art presupposes that we know the style, that our expectations
93 Arnhe im : Th .. Gestalt Theorj- 01 E.J;.
correspond to the probability structure of the symbol-system in question. prasion', Psych. RCII . M~y '949. Th is w ~~
Very often the experience is hindered or distorted by the lack of such a intui ti","ly understood .by Kan dinsky (~
r""kr II"J li" ,c %U Fl,jd~, Miincheo I<p6).
correspondence. '10 Again, this emphasizes that it is a misunderstandi ng
to believe that work s of art from any epoch may be experienced ' sponta-
neou sly' . 91
The study of artistic forms and contents is not complete until we have
placed these two aspects in relation to each other and clarified the generally
neglected semantical dimension, The artistic problem proper consists in
concretizing a content (an intermediary object) in another medium, and
the scmantical aspect therefore is of central importance. How may the
concretization take place? The answer above all is suggested by the term
. struct ural similarity ' , If the artistic symbol has a structure corresponding
to that of the content, the semantical contact is established. Charles Morris
has introduced the concept ' iconic sign' to cover this case." It may be
illustrative to mention that the same idea is taken as a point of depart ure
for the analysis of handwriting, by assuming that the structure , of the
calligraphy reflects the motoric behaviour of the writer, which again is
functionally connected with his inner state. The psychologist Arn heim
discusses this problem in detail and maintains that we have the best reasons
to assume that particular arrangements of lines and shapes correspond to
particular emotional states, 93 Or rather we should say that particular
structures have certain limited possibilities for receiving contents, We do
not play a Viennese waltz at a funeral. T he structural similarity only

7'
 9'l Structural similarity alway. presuppos.es
becomes effective when we have learnt to organize forms perceptually, and
a choice between the properties of the motive.
when we possess the necessary pole-objects to form the corresponding 10
intermediary object. " And even this is hardly enough. The experience
or works of art is also facilitated by learning that particular forms were
really used in particular contexts. In this way we get a key to related
structural similarities. And this is needed, because both the formal structures
and the intermediary objects may have such an infinity of nuances that
it is higWy improbable that the spontaneous perception can grasp their
correspondences without training and instruction. Often the experience
starts by our grasping a simple, all-encompassing structure and a cot-
responding content, whereupon both aspects become articulated through
further acquaintance. This follows from the fact that the work of art
often consists of several formal levels, such as one large icon' embracing
several subordinate icons or other signs. If we really attain the art object
perceptually, we may get a strange experience of participating. T his feeling
can be particularly pronounced when playing a musical instrument, but
it can also arise when listening or looking. T he structure of the work of
art seems to have overcome all resistance, to make us resound physically
as well as psychically.
But we do not react only on the basis of structural similarities. It is an
empirical fact that works of art may also comprise conventional signs. T he
arrows of St. Sebastian are thus a conventional sign telling us that the
figure represented is St. Sebastian. But obviously, a work of art cannot
as a totality be a conventional sign, as it would then no longer be a
concretization, but something analogous to the flag of the nation. T he
work of art may also exhibit a third type of scmantical relation, which
consists in its belonging to an empirical series of causally interconnected
objects. A church-building thus may mediate religious objects, not only
because it is structurally similar to these, but because it forms the stage
where the ritual takes place. Th e building is functionally connected with
the higher objects, and therefore acquires a representing character. But
also in this case the concretization is left out, and we have to conclude that
conventional and causal symbolizations can only play a subordinate: role
in the work of art, which primarily has to be iconic.
 A complete description of the work of art has to embrace the formal 95 Morri. : "Esthetics... p. 149.

structure, what this structure represents, and in which way the representa- 96 Morri.: Estb( tie.. . ', p. 14' .

tion is done. Morris stresses that most studies in aesthetics exhibit a one- 97 The expressive symbols lake the ir point
of departure in me symbolic act. T hrougb
sided emphasis on one of the semiotical dimensions only;" and we should rocialiu tion any action acquires a meanin g
give him the credit for having brought forth the first complete theory of wbicb i. r>o[ iobeuot' in th( :u;tion.
art. The formal dimension is an integrated part of the artistic intermediary
object, and the statement that 'the form represents the content' , therefore
needs a qualification. The form participates in the totality as a ' low '
member of a series of object levels. The levels arc interconnected by
semantical relations, and it must be stressed that the work of art is the
wh ole series.
The work of art, therefore, is a very complex and intentionally ' distant '
organism. It requem from the beholder the acquisition of specialized
attitudes, and does not 'open ' itself completely until the most distant pole
is included in the intention. In the work of art a single pole is not the
'real' goal. Several poles are relevant, and the goal is an intermediary
object. A typical error in the perception of works of art is for instance
due to the intention of one of its subordinate manifestations (an irrelevant
intermediary object is formed), such as the illusion of importance often
created by precious materials. T he study of the aesthetic problems above
all tells us that there is no opposition between 'expression ' and form
(order). We can ollly ex press ourselves by means of order. The expression
is not' added ' , it belongs to the form. But a form, as we have seen, is
not expressive as a matter of course. When we pursue the creation of
particular and articulated forms, it is to arrive at a richer expression.
It is a basic misconception to believe that the form hampers and reduces
the expression, or that the expression is helped by accidental fancies.
We have said that the function of the work of art is to concretize
intermediary objects where I'alues participate as poles." It is also important
to notice that the work of art, in contrast to science, is able to denote the
individual situation. It should therefore in general be connected with
particular situations. Today we have instead an anarchy where all forms
appear everywhere. The work of art tells us that the world is; it represents
liic-suuations." Although a work of art is therefore a special concretiza-
tion, several work s of art may together form ' systems ' which illuminate

73
 98 Compare the millennia! ' r~p"ti!io n' in
diffe rent aspects of reality, and through the 'integration CC the arts ' one
Egyptian art.
can create Gnamt ku11StUlerke where this is consciously intended.
99 Arnbeim ull, the reprodlieti"e Khemat~
But perhaps the most important function of art is to create nao objects. 'repre"'n!~ tional eoncepu;'. ~nd defines the..,
The work of art can concretize a possible complex of phenomena , that a$ ' the conception of the form by which the
perceptual structu re of the object ean be
is, a new combination of known d ements. In this way it manifests possible, rel'rC'Sl:nted with tbe propenie. of ~ given
not yet experienced life-situations, and it requests perceptions of new kinds, med ium '. (A rt... p. '33).
experiences which become meaningful according to their relationship with
thc already existing world of objects. Thus the work of art may change
man and his world, and the old saying that 'art teaches us to see the
things in a new way ' is explained. On the other hand, art may also have
a stabilizing ' function in repeating known life-situations. a task which
socially is just as important. 91

P RODUCTI ON AND REPRODUCTION

T he main question we have to ask when confronted with children's

d rawings is: 'Do the children draw what they Sl:':C?' To answer this
question means to study the relationship between perception and repro-
duction. It is a banal fact that we may be able to perceive (for instance
a work of art) without being able to reproduce or create. So far it is not
strange that a person can behave in such a way that his ' space-perception '
is obviously based upon Euclidean schemata, at the same time as he does
not represent a Euclidean space in his drawings. Piaget shows that repro-
duction presupposes schematizations which develop analogously to the
perceptual schemata, that is, from topological to projective and Euclidean 10
schemata. " But the reproductive schemata develop at a later age than
the perceptual ones, and common experience shows that the development
is not always complete. Th e perceptual schemata result from experiences
(operations) and their task is to mediate relevant objects. The reproductive
schemata also result from operations, more precisely from experiences of
how somethin g is made. Piaget observes that children may very well
distinguish between a straight and a curved line, without knowing how to
draw such lines, and the history of art shows that man did not always
make Euclidean reproductions, although one knew very well how to do

74
this. Obviously, the reproductions are products analogous to the interme- 100 Piaget & l nhelder : op- cir., p, '56.
101 Reproduction pt rsuJ'POSC$ what Pi~gcl
diary obccts, with perception and knowledge only as contributing poles.
calls ' delaj'td imitation '. (Piagee & lnhelder :
The experiments of Piaget furnish simple and illuminating illustrations, op, eit. p. 455)
To carry out one experiment, he employed matches kept erect by small 102 Analogously we know a rchitectural form .
bits of plasticine, and two tables, one round and one rectangular. 100 Th e inf luenced by the ccofiguraricns of me land -
=!".
children had to arrange the matches (representing telegraph poles) in a
straight line between two points on the tables, Th e smallest children, under
3 years of age, were unable to make a straight line even parallel to the
edge of the table, although other experiments showed that they could
distinguish between curved and straight lines in perception. They could,
however, arrange the matches on a straight line drawn on the surface
(or along the edge of the table). The irregular lines made by these children
were based on the proximity-relation; if they were asked to space the
matches a little apart, they were unable to make any line whatsoever. The
reproduction, hence, was not a copy of a perceived straight line (the table-
edge), but a product determined by the child's reproductive schemata for
lines in general (succession and proximity), We may also say that a lacking
ability of intending the straight line is evident. 101 Somewhat older children
manage to make straight lines parallel to the edge of the table, but they
fail as soon as the line has to he carried obliquely or outside the centre
of the circle. Characteristic intermediary objects appear. On the round
table they make lines which curve to approach parallelism with the edge.
On the rectangular one they divide a line which should cut across the
corner into two lengths parallel to the sides, or somewhat later they make
one continuous line which curves towards the corner. Evidently the in-
tention of the straight line is mixed with the perceptual influence ' of
the edge of the table. 101 The child is not able to isolate the intention of
what should be produced from the intention of irrelevant elements in the
environment. Only 7year-old children can make a straight line in any
position. Their productive schema for the straight line has become inde-
pendent, and enables them to direct their intention at any time and as
long as needed towards the goal-object. It is interesting to notice that the
smaller children are satisfied with their products. Docs this fac t imply that
the irregular lines for them represent straight ones? Recalling what has been
said above, we must answer that they do not intend a straight line at all;

75
 this intention is impossible to them, although they give the impression of 103 Pi ~ge l &; ln hcldcr. op. ea., p. 272_

having understood the task (they are able to select a straight line among 104 Arnt,eim: op. cit. p- 130.

other lines). The product corresponds to the intention, and accordingly 105 Amhcim : op. ti t., pp. 136 If.

they show satisfaction. But they can be made conscious of the fact that
their product is not a straight line. Still they will repeat the same error,
because they are unable to maintain the intention of the straight line, and
every time the task is done, they will have a spontaneous experience of
having arrived at a satisfactory solution. T he reproduction is thus limited
by the reproductive schemata, and does nut directly follow perception. 103
The same holds true for higher reproductive schemata. It often seems,
however, that perception and reproduction correspond to each other,
because we only perceive what is strictly necessary, that is, much less than
we are able to see. Arnheim thus puts as the heading to a chapter on
reproduction by children: They draw what they see', \ 1)4 and he supports
this statement by saying that neither perception nor reproduction aims at
' photographic representation' . This is true, in so far as both are based
upon schematizations, but the studies of Piaget show that we may not
put a sign of equality between them. Later Arnheim adds that ' children
Sl:(: more than they draw ' , and explains that reproduction means to create

a 'structural equivalent' to what is perceived. But we have seen that the

reproduction only considers those elements in perception which fit the
reproductive schemata, and must conclude that we neither reproduce what
we see nor what we are able to see, but what our reproductive schemata
make possible. The reproductive schemata and their use are determined
by our experiences during the socialization process.
The development of the first schemata accompanies the child's need
for mctoric activity. The first drawn' rounding ' surely results from the
movements of the hand and the arm. 105 When the form has been. dis-
covered, the child will use it for any representation. This does not imply
that the child is unable to distinguish the things in its environment, nor
that the repeated use of the rounding signifies a lack of manual skill.
For the child ' thingncss ' is perfectly represented by the rounding, because
the child primarily intends the general enclosed character of things. The
circle not only represents this quality because of its centralized shape, but
also because the surface inside a contour seems more dense than its lOll S= Am hd m's briJ Ii~ nt ex:lm ple. (op.
cit., pp. 75 ff .)
surroundings.
107 aile ha. recently g iven mu~ h attcntion
We have already suggested that a representation through structural to the q uestion how the natural" creative
similarity presupposes a choice, and it has been pointed out that it is not faculty of the child ma y be pr~rved. See
II . Read : Education th rough Art, London
univocal how visual impressions should be reproduced. Sometimes we 1 9~ 3 ; aho E. Ziegfd d (cd .): Education and
choose to reproduce the projective pattern on the retina (perspective draw. .4rt , UNESCO 1953.
ing), at other times we want to maintain important structural properties 108 According to this defin ition the scientist
is nOl creative'_
such as relative sizes and right-angles. 106 T he perspective intention reflects 10
the wish for a particular kind of illusion, which, however, deprives the
the motive of its most fundamental properties. We may conclude that
products are determined by the schcmatizations of the producer, and that
they only become understandable if the consumer' adopts a corresponding
attitude.
Th e reproductive schemata may be analytical as well as concretizing.
Children spontaneously det'dop concretizing schemata, while the analytical
ones have to be learned later. It is a well-known fact that the acquisition
of analytical schemata usually kills the concretizing faculty. To learn
logical methods for the production of concretizing symbols, however, is
impossible. Logically we can only define the ' pure ' d ements embraced
by the concretization, though the ability to realize the synthesis proper
may be helped by exercises. It would carry us too far to describe this
training in further detail; in the last part of the book, however, we will
discuss the question of how to develop the concretizing ability in the
student of architecture. l07
A creative individual is defined as possessing the faculty of producing
concretizing symbols. lO3 When we create an object, it so to speak comes
into existence through the representing phenomena. It is generally known
that the object represented by the created sign does not have to be con-
sciously ' present' during the process of creation. Th e process of creation
is rather characterized by an orientation towards the representing sign.
In this way we have to understand the statement of Ibsen that his Peer
Gynt started to become wilful in the course of writing, while the original
ideas of the author apparently lost importance. When the product has a
high degree of complexity, the process of creation is characterized by a
succession of interconnected intentions. As the structure of the product

77
takes shape, one intention will follow naturally from the other. This may 1m Jiirg~n,cn: P, ykologi .. ., p. 343.

be illustrated by the known fact that a more extensive and complex work 110 Jiirg<'n' cn : cp- cit., p- 329.

of art (e. g. a symphony) cannot be created by starting at the beginning III Jiirgcn,cn: op. <il. , p. 335.

and going on in a 'linear ' way to the end. On the contr ary it is necessary III JOrg<: Il,en : op. cir., p. 380.

continuously to keep the totality in mind, and to go from the whole to 113 Cantril : op. cit., p. 123.

the parts and back to the whole. T his state of affairs is expressed by
Jorgensen in the so-called ' law of wholes' : ' Any intention has a tendency
to produce another intention directed towards an object of which the
object of the first intention forms a part. ,109 T he need to create thus may
be understood as the intention of a not yet existing object. 110 To intend
'a not yet existing object' can only mean that the intention is a product
of two or more intentions of existing objects. The creative intention there-
fore aims at intermediary objects, and presents itself phenomenologically
as an indistinct want. Such intentions are present in all perceptions, of
course, but the creative intention combines poles which have not earlier
been brought together. T he result is not always significant, but often it
tells us something essential. The creative intention usually starts with a
general idea of the goal object, analogous to the experience we have when
we thin k of a piece of music without being able to ' hit upon it' . III T he
products of creative activity are related to other forms of imagery-like
dreams, but should not be confused with these. III By means of the concept
of concretization we have been able to clarify the character of true creations,
and we have also seen that creative activity presupposes the acquisition
of articulated perceptual and reproductive schemata. T hese secure the
closeness to life of the products. T he acquisition of reproductive schemata
implies that we have become able to represent certain structural properties
of our environment by means of common symbols, in the same way as
the acquisition of perceptive schemata means that we manage spontaneously
to experience certain of the public objects in the environment. Creative
activity, therefore, like all other forms of behaviour, is based upon the
socialization process.
Real creative activity, of course, transcends the repetition of known
reproductive schemata. 113 Generally it has to be characterized as a deviation
from ' normal ' behaviour, and important artists rarely find immediate
recognition. But the deviations should not be accidental. Only if they
 arise from hidden conflicts in the form of life may they be defended as 114 P,mom : op. cit., p. 297.

real solutions to actual problems, preferable to the more traditional in- 115 Th is is the background for the negative
$~nction$ againsl modan an in Norway,
tentions which only apparently are adequate.!" Generally, society estab-
116 Parsons : cp - cir., p- 338.
lishes very strict laws to control certain deviations (' crimes '), while others
117 Parso ns : op. cit., p- 42r.
are treated more liberally (t crcative activity'). In practical life, however,
113 El isting objects, however, a n die simul-
the latter are also subject to an indirect control, resulting from the wish u neowly.
to protect 'vested interests' in the tradition. Il5 Social control nevertheless 119 Culture consists in patterned or ordered
has a very important function in securing order, at the same time as sysrems of s)m bol$ which are objects of the
orient:ltion of ~ction, internal ized components
long-term planning is made possible. Adjustment through socialization is of the per50nalitie$ of individual :octon and
to be considered the most elementary type of social control. Control in institu tionalized patterns of social . ptom.
(panoo $: op. cil. p. 327)
general is necessary, as the society cannot satisfy all needs and private
interests. Real creative activity, however, satisfies social interests, and should
therefore to a large extent be free from negative sanctions. A practical
difficulty results from the well-known communication-gap which fre-
quently divides the specialist from the public. 116 New products on a high
intentional level will always be spontaneously incomprehensible, and will
therefore be met with reluctance and opposition. The sciences in general
have conquered the resistance and have become accepted academical fields.
Creative activity, however, is mostly condemned by a control which
requests ' popularization' . Slogans and worn-out formulas are employed
to hide the more essential problems. 117 We should conclude by saying that
creative activity plays a fundamental role in changing society. By giving
new intermediary objects public status, it enriches our world . us

CUL TURE

From birth we struggle to establish a fragment of order in the infinite

variety of our environment. The order we attain is, as we have seen, a
result of collaboration and the transmission of information. T he achieved
order is defended against all charges; the need for order makes man at
the same time creative and conservative. A com m on order is called culture.
In order that culture may become common, it has to be taught and learned.
It therefore depends upon common symbol-systems, or rather, it corre-
sponds to these symbol-systems and their behavioural effects.!" Participation
in a culture means that one knows how to use its common symbols. The

79

culture integrates the single personality by giving him a feeling of security I.!O . Without the requisite cultural resources
to be a" imilate<! through internalization it
in a ordered world based upon meaningful interactions. The common is 001 po"ihle for ;1 human ltvc! of ~non
symbols enable us to reach objects which are unattainable to the isolated ality to dtvdop and hence for a humao type
of soc;",l system to emerge.' (Pal">on>: or.
individual, and thus give rise to a versatile and differentiated world. 120 cit. , e- 34)
Common cognitive tools serving instrumental tasks are just as important III unger: Phil osophy .. . p. 14,.
as symbol-systems which may express values and complex life-situations. 1.!2 Sec Werner : 01'. cit., PI'. 284 fl. for ;t
Primitive man does not distinguish between the different types of comprehensive account of magical reality.
symbol-systems, but merges them all into magic and myth. The purely 123 This definition of philosophy originaUy
Items from Moritz Schlick. See &Ulmmclu
cognitive organization of the situation is unknown; instead good and bad Au/ril::c. Wjen 1938.
forces' are associated with the things. For primitive man' all things are
full of gods' . 121 T his, of course, does not happen in an accidental way,
but reflects the fact that the environment really may be said to consist of
hostile and friendly objects. Life-giving sunshine alternates with destructive
tempests, cold and frost come from the north and the warm winds from
the south. Primitive man is never indifferent to the environment, and
therefore he is also unable to 'abstract' its separate aspects. Instead he
concretizes his synthetic' environment in relatively diffuse intermediary
objects represented by magic and ritual. III Later development has tended
towards a specialization of the orientations and the corresponding symbol-
systems. Science has slowly purified its cognitive-analytic attitude, tech-
nology has developed as an instrumental activity on this cognitive basis,
art and religion no longer can pretend to describe the world, and philo-
sophy has become a purely analytic activity aiming at the definition of the
signs used within the different symhol-systems.!" In daily life these spe-
cialized orientations are usually mixed into diffuse attitudes with slight
intentional depth. Thi s is, as we have seen, natural and ' right'. It is less
pleasant, however, to see that the only specialized orientation we are
normally taught is the cognitive one. The socialization is exclusively based
upon learning to understand the things around us, so that they may later
be mastered and exploited for the maximum profit. In European culture
the tendency has thus been a development away from artistic and religious
concretization towards scientific abstraction.
Before, an attempt was made to keep the immediately valuable phenom-
ena through concretization, today we search-for scientific' truth'. Th is
truth may be in conflict with existing values and may produce conditions

80
we are not matu re enough to master, at the same time as it is unable to ]1. Such [Otal ity views ' stem from the
m isconception that a ' synthetic sce nce' is
register the ' quality' of the immediate situation and to integrate man in possible.
his environment. Understanding the importance of concretizing symbol-
systems in society, it is evident that we need a general training in artistic
and religious orientations. It is also important that we should learn to
chang( our att itude according to the situation. Instead of the diffuse
magical attitude of primitive man, we have to differentiate our orientations
in correspondence with our complex and articulated world. It is therefore
surely a misunderstanding when some want a return to a diffuse medley
of art, science, religion, and metaphysics. H i Such totalities ' necessarily
will have a low degree of articulation, or they will become so complex
as to be useless. Reality only gets an articulated structure when defined
objects and relations replace the diffuseness of magic. The objects have
their counterpart in differentiated symbol-systems. In this way only is
cultural growth possible.
Toda y many of our non-descriptive symbol-systems have become obso-
lete, as they do not suit the new life-situations brought forth by the immense
development of the cognitive-instrumental activities. New concretizing
symbols have certainly been created, but the public has not integrated
them with the new cognitive intentions. Firstly, this shows that the
cognitive intentions arc only ~ accepted' , but not really taken into usc;
and secondly that the new concretizations are not even accepted. T he
public of our day accepts science as unintelligible, but necessary, and rejects
modern art as unintelligible and unnecessary. The result is what Giedion
has brilliantly named ' the split of thought and feeling' . Changes in the
environment rarely happen simultaneously in all fields, and changes that
have taken place in one field may therefore necessitate drastic encroach-
mcnts in others. Thi s problem was particularly prominent 5 0- 100 years
ago when inventions produced sudden leaps in single fiel ds. It was very
difficult to adjust the everyday world of objects to these leaps, as the
psychol ogical and sociological dimensions need a more gradual develop-
ment. The problem is still just as pressing, because technological devel-
opment, in spite of all attempts at planning and co-ordination of the
different fiel ds, moves at an unchallenged pace. Architecture suffe rs parti-

81
cularly from this lack of balance, and the architects take refuge in using
obsolete methods.
It is also typical of the present confusion that many want to create a
metaphysical separation between the humanistic and the natural sciences.
We understand that this is a misconception, as the sciences are based
upon common methods. The methods are independent of the subject-
matter, and only tr y to answer the question : ' How do we gain know-
ledge?' A work of art can be just as well investigated scientifically as a
chemical substance, and the basic methods founded on the theory of objects,
information theory, and semiotic, are common. l2S If it is said that we
should not use methods borrowed from the natural sciences in the human-
istic disciplines, this only shows a lack of understanding of the ends and
means of science. We should also repeat that ' intuitive ' methods to gain
knowl~dg~ are illusory. Th e new synthesis of logic and empiricism of our
day has taught us that it is meaningless to assume that domains of know.
ledge exist where the intellect is not competent. Th e unity of logic and
empiricism also implies a unity of theory and pracrice.!" Before, empirical
studies were carried out without the suport of logically organized symbol-
systems, while the logical systems of philosophy only had slight contact
with empirical facts, and rather acquired the character of free speculation.
The theory of objects and symbol-systems also makes the traditional
distinction between ' matter ' and 'spirit ' obsolete. ' Physical ' and 'psy-
chical ' objects are logical constructions based upon phenomena which, as
such, can neither be called physical nor psychical; they are only classified
[0 allow for a convenient division of work within the sciences. 127
As the best summing-up of what the concept' cultural development '
implies, we may quote Whitehead: The art of progress is to preserve
order amid change, and change amid order.' nil
125 Set; V. F. Lenzen : "Philosophy of
Scieoce' , in D. D. Runes (cd.): T_"tict"
CC1I llU'y P/JikJsoplJy. New Y(I(k 1947. p. 109:
:dso ReM;henbach : 0p. ot., p. 346. Dr=p :
Log . .AuJbcr.u, p. ~ . makes die followin g
n.atmlCllt : 'Die ~nstiooe urfallen nicht
in ~hiedo:tlC, unzlUammenbingende ~
biere, soooa n es giht n ut ~n ~biet von
Gegenslinden und daha nur cine Wi..cn-
schaft. '
W i C. Mortil : ' Scientific Empiricism", in
Encyd oped;a and Unified Sc;eMe, Chiqgo
1937
127 Phy, ical term, lih "mass' or 'e nergy '
have cehlng 10 do with the (meaningle..)
question whether the world ' is' material or
spiritual. See P. Fran k: Mod"" Soence a"d
il~ Philosop1ly. Cambridge 1949, pp . 127,
,86 6.
III A. N . Wbiteho;.ad, Pro.cCU 6.l/ d Bra/ity.
New Yotk I!P 9, p . 515.
III. Theory
I. Towards an integrated theory of architecture

THEORY AND EXPERIENCE

The two previous chapters furnish the general background we need to I Scdlm~yr was the first \0 stTe-s that the
a(eeuibility of a work of art pre-upposes an
develop a comprehensive theory of architecture. At the same time they ~dequ~te am Nde. (' Zu ciner .ueng.:n Kunst-
help us to understand the need for such a theory. wi.scnscbaft. ' 930).
The theory should not be a substitute for the direct experience of 2 \Vbile the arehitects are often oppm.ed 10
theory . the musicians have always acpt<"d
architecture. We have seen that a theoretical scientific investigation has the throrie- of harmo ny; cou nterpoint and
another purpose than to compete with perception. But the theory surely (ann .u a no:ces~ry foundation.
can help us to attain a more 'correct ' and profound experience of archi- 3 This interpretation is still dominating ar-
tecture. The theoretical insight will perhaps tell us that the work of ehilt<:Nral meory, although many scholar.
'l~rt 1<) regard the :l.Tchitectural forms a.
architecture is a function of factors which are not immed iately accessible, I)'mboliOl1 forms.
at the same time as a theoretical examination of its formal organizati on
facilitates our perceiving it correctly. The theory thus indicates the poles
which define the ' adequate ' orienta tion to the object. Only when intending
what the form g prcunts as a manifestation of higher objects may we talk
about a real architectural experience.' We here presuppose that the concept
;. architecture' transcends the formal aspect, but even when experiencing
purely formal properties, we need theoretical insight. Th is problem will
be discussed in more detail later. " That architecture is something more
th an a play of forms, should be evident from the experiences of our daily
life, where architecture participates' in most activities. Nevertheless it
is often maintained that the;' real ' architectural experience is purd y formal
(' aesthetic "). 3 But we repeat tha t objects are necessarily perceived as mani-
festations of each other, because they belong to situations and do not
appear in isolation. Through a particular analytical attitude it is surely
possible to perceive architecture formally, that is, relative to certain forma l
categories. But it is just as possible to perceive the forms as manifestations
of the presuppositions which have determined them. Analytical experience
forms a part of this more comprehensive kind of architectural experience.
In other words, the formal attitude is more narrow than the symbolizing
one, without offering anything new. Architectural history not only presents
a great variety of formal solutions, but it is also characterized by changing
presuppositions (building tasks). We therefore have to reject theories pro-
pagating one particular attitude. From what has been said above, we
understand that theories based upon naive realism are also insufficient. 4
Though we are willing to admit that many of them stem from a positive
wish for closeness to architecture itself ' , without losing oneself in purely
economical or functional considerations. ~
We have seen that a 'phenomenological description ' is illusory, as any
description has to be in terms of objects. If the scholar tries to find out
something by naively putting himself in front of the work of architecture,
he anyway has to use defined concepts in describing his results. If not,
his work win be of no interest to others. T he theory 0/ architecture,
therefore, cannot take the im mediate experience as its point of departure.
The theory certainly has to be based upon a direct knowledge of works
of architecture, but we must repeat that only an adequate attitude secures
its relevance. And we can never be sure that any description of accidental
experiences fulfils this criterion. We therefore have to reject the asserticr-
that the description of a work of architecture should correspond to the
direct experience. Only through an analysis in terms of objects may we
attain the attitude which mediates the adequate experience." Only in this
way do we acquire perceptual schemata which are fitted for the structure
of the object. Many scholars, however, have derived their analytical care-
gories from immediate experiences. The categories ' mass' and space' are
thus supposed to be self-evident properties of architecture. 1 If we content
ourselves with a common-sense definition of 'mass' as something we may
touch or grasp, and define ' space' as what is 'between ' the mass-objects,
this obviously holds true. But this does not prove that we should not try
to establish concepts which describe the architectural form in a more exact
way; concepts which would make the' naive' ones superfluous." Certain
naive concepts, however, are so commonly used that it would be inconven-
ient to discard them; rather we should try to give them a more precise
meaning. The impossibility of basing the analysis of works of architecture
B6
4 Th~y only express the indi vidu al writer ' s
scbjec rive orientation to archit ccrure in general
or to parricular fa vourite works.
~ Bruno Z~vi criticizes several theories for
being on~_sidw , and for thcir lack of ability
to appr02Ch m ~ ' phenomenal chara cter ' of
archiux rure. Ther~upon h~ formulates his
own p"'""nal mwry (architecrure =-' arl~ Jd/o
I /,=i o), which he pretentiously calls' the mod-
n theory of architccmr~ . (B. Zevi: ' Archi
tenura ' , in E" ridol"Jiil U", ,,eTl<,Je aeU"ArlC,
Vol. I, veneaia-Roma 1958, col. 615 ff.).
6 This atti rud~. however. doc> not rcoull
automatiu.l1y from th~ anal!",i. Th e attitude
is . ymhetical and presupposes training in
e:tperi~ncing architectu re.
, A. E. Brind'man n u= rhe1/: two eon,
cepes as me oosis of his interest ing thecrj- of
arrh ilCClura.l form . (Stt Bat."u"'I. T iibing.-n
1956).
, In a recent stud y E. Corn~n u= anOlher
$Clf-erid~nt" property of .architeemr~ as his
poi"r of dep2ffiITe. He tal ks about th~ ' rwi n
visual aspo=u ' of architccrure , inte nding rhe
fact that any building has both an utnior
and an iMnWr. The n perience of rh~ telatioo
between th ese two aspects forms, according
to Corn<:U, an essential p:>rt of the architce
rural uperience. In varying wa!'" th~ utmor
creaees an '~rf'lan?' for which me intexior
offers the ' !ui{i'mrot '. Cornell has ",n ainly
pointed to an interesting aspect of the archi-
teetw al erpni=c~, bur hi. ca~gori.,. au
hardly suitable as a basi. for a thwry of
architecture. (E. Cornell: Hu ma" iJt;r; ' ''lfui-
nel i"lo Alditer:ture, GO~borg 1959).

upon our immediate experiences, also follows from the discrepancy between
the perceptual and the productive schemata. The perception has to be
co-ordinated with the production in order to be relevant. That is, we
return to the request for an adequate attitude. That the experiences of
the beholder may be omitted in the description docs not mean, however,
that the theory should not take into consideration what the psychology
of perception tells us.
We should therefore be careful not to confuse the theory of architecture
with a theory of how to experience architecture." The latter. for instance,
consists in describing how we have to orient ourselves to organize the
situation adequately. Some times we may stroll freely around, in other
cases we should rather follow a prescribed path and experience the forms 12
in a particular succession. 10
The theory of architecture should render an account of the characteristic
dimensions of the building tasks, as well as the formal structures, and of
the relations between these two aspects of the architectural totality. We
have seen that the questions put forward in the introduction cover all these
aspects, and the theory will be complete if we manage to answer our
questions. The theory has to be based upon empirical knowledge (archi-
tectural history), but aims at helping the creative architect to plan and
predict, to compare and criticize.
While the theoretical investigation should uncover the possible dimen-
sions of the work of architecture, the immediate experience should grasp
it as a totality; as an intermediate object. Theory and experience therefore
do not substitute for each other, but may help each other mutually. But
we should avoid confusing them.
~ This confm ion i, especially pronounced
in S. E. Ra,mu"cn : Om at (Jp/~lJ~ ark;uktur ,
Kiibenlum 1957. Rasmussen describes neither
forms nor ,}'mbolizations, but tell, about bi.
rather penonal (or conventional ) impression, .
10 P . Frank l (En lw;cklunglp"a f~n tk ,. n~u
~un H.1ukUntl, J.."ipzig ' 9'4) has a,,,,n~
that the eent",lizM 'I"'~ of the Renais<.:l nce
, huukl be e~p~rien~ br immNliately pl:>ci ng
our>elvc> in irs centre . Thi< show by me
war. that the central ized sl"'cc i< conceived
independently of the beholdcr-. Man y Baroque
compo,ition>. however. are experienced mcv -
ing along an a~is. and u ke the beholder imc
consideration. A characteristic example is
offered by the two domed church.,. on the
Piazu del Popolo in Rome. wb ieh were nude
physic.al ly ditfa"C'nt to ap~ar similar to the
penon who enters through the city gate. (Sec
R. Winkower: ' Carlo R:l.i=Idi and the Ro-
man Architttture of the Full Baroque'. A rt
Bull. XIX. No.2).

C ONCEPnJAL SCHEMES

It is not our intention to present a complete survey of all concepts used

in recent architectural aesthetics and architectural history. Such an investi-
gation would go far beyond the frame of our study. But it is necessary
to consider the suitability of the more important types of concepts.
For our purpose the concepts may be classified accord ing to their
semiotical character. Although most authors have employed the traditional
distinction between functional, technical, and aesthetic aspects, II we only II The categories go back Upoll th e Viteuv-
ian conctp " of "tililiU, fi"" ital and lI~tUfltas.
find attempts at a systematic presentation within the formal (' artistic ') (I, m , z).
dimension. The building tasks are usually treated in a mere catalogue-like 12 We may. fOI instance, doubt that con-
fashion, for instance by distinguishing between monumental buildings, ventioul types of habitations. such n cue -
fam ily houses and row-houses. arc adequale
habitations, and industrial buildings, on a purely functional basis. This .ol utions to the dwdling as an actual bu ilding
kind of classification is certainly necessary, but in most cases it has a talk .
descriptive character which attaches the tasks to conventional building lJ See the writing> by H. Sedlmayr. G.
v. Kaschn iu-Weinbef g, H. P. L'Orangt:. G.
types. 12 Instead it seems necessary to submit the building tasks to a basic Bandmann , E. Baldwin Smith , K. Lehmann .
investigation, for instance by asking : ' Wh at is a church ?', rather than R. Krautheimtt, W. Braunfds, R. Win -
'How is a church? '. The functional basis for answering such a question ko.... er etc.
H G , Pau lr.son ' Stadell' Prigd '. in Ny
is often present, while the 'environmental' aspect is blank . T he history
$rI1J , Stockholm 1958.
of architecture here offers very inspiring material which shows that
15 G. Paul.son and N . Paulsson : Ti"g~"1
buildings from the most different periods have gone beyond the fulfilling Rruk ()(:h f'ragd . Stockholm 1956, p. u .
of mere practical needs. U Gregor Paulsson's distinction between ' physical 16 T he idea is old , but received its pregnant
milieu ' and "symbol-rnilieu ' is basic. 14 A building only reveals its full Icrmulatien from the Chicago architect Louis
Sullivan towards the end of the nineteenth
meaning when seen as a part of a symbol-milieu, where all objects carry centur y. See L. H . Sullivan : Th e Autobio
values as participants in human actions which are neoer indifferent. Even graphy of a" Idea, 1 9~.
the names we give to the things express that they belong to a symbol-
milieu: we talk about w(dding-gown, holiday-attire, parad(-dress, christmas-
tree, wdding-ring, and birthday<ake . 'The wedding and the funeral are
building-stones in the life of the fellowship, but they are only symbolic
actions. Together they form what we call a symbol-milieu. It is the symbolic
content which gives the concrete things their social meaning'. 15 In this
study we shall put all the physical aspects of the environment under the
heading ' physical mttieu " and employ the term ' symbol-milieu' to desig-
nate all the higher objects which are mediated by the physical ones.
Semantical concepts which might grasp the relation between task and
means hardly exist. Lately one has usually been content discussing the
slogan ' form follows function ' . 16 Th e question how an architectural form
may serve a particular purpose, however, is not answered by this slogan,
which only points to the existence of a general relationship between the
two aspects. With certain surprise we discover that Alberti proposed a
clear solution to the scmantical problem. He prescribed that the most
' p(rf~ct ' forms (the circle and the elementary polygons) should be reserved
for the church, and that public buildings in general should be carried out

88
 in the strictest conformity with his formal principles, Deviations from
these rules, however, may be recom me ndable in private houses. 17 Alberti
thus tries to represent a hierarchy of building tasks through a hierarchy
of forms. His point of departure is the idea that geometrical perfection
reflects the cosmic harmony which the church-building should represent. II
We may also infer that the demand for a higher order in the public
buildings than in the private ones shows that Alberti understood the public
as a generalization of the individual. Architecture should reflect this social
structure. Th e architectural universe of Alberti is therefore characterized
by coherence and variation. H is idea is grand and fascinating, not least
in a time when similar forms are employed in connection with widely
different building tasks, with visual chaos as a result.
The development of convenient scmantical principles presupposes a
profound understanding of the building tasks, as wdl as a detailed know-
ledge of the formal dimension in architecture, Here we encounter several
interesting attempts at a theoretical clarification, attempts which partly
contradict and partly supplement each other. T he current formal concepts
arc of two different kinds : firstl y the properly formal ones which describe
the order present in the work of architecture, and secondly concepts which
may be labelled ' qualitative'. because they, rather than objective formal
properties, designate the experiences of the beholder, 19 We have in mind
expressions like ' heavy' and 'l ight ' forms, ' narrow ' and "wide' spaces,
and especially references to tensions ' or movements ' in objectively sta-
tionary forms. T he qualitative concepts often stem from an ' empathy'
of the forces inherent in the technical structure, 20 The empathy also may
lead to a more or less complete anthropomorphization, by characterizing
architectural forms with terms usually employed to designate states of the
human body." The qualitative concepts arc usually employed without any
precise definition of their meaning. When Vogt-Goknil talks about ' narrow
spaces' 22, we are interested in knowing in which objective context she
has the experience designated as a ' narrow space'. To a certain extent
this is explained by Vogt-Goknil, but the decisive fact is that the expla-
nation can only be given in terms of objects and not by means of other
qualitative concepts, As the formal investigation cannot start from our
immediate experience, neither can it employ qualitative concepts. But this
l ----i
11 L. B. Alberti : Dt: Rt: At:dijiralon"tl, IX,
Vlll.
IS Sec R. Wittkow a : Arch;tuturtll Prin .
ide~ wa. . till suppor ted by
eipler... T he
P~ll adio.
19 Vogt -GOknil (Archiu klonud t: GrundIN_
riOr ." .d Um raumt:rlt:bnu, ZUrich 1951) uses
the term ' Qu:alitit mcsscnde Bc:griff e ' to
charac terize her own concepts, She design ates,
for insbrlee, architectura l spaecs as wcit and
t7lg (p. 49). From what has heen >.aid above,
we understand that il i. meaningl ess to assert
that concepu "measure " a quality. A quali ry
has 10 be understood as an i ntennedi2ry objea:
....hen ..:al ua FIticipate as poles. Such an
objw may be concretiud or d escribed aD.I_
lytically, and we may IUInC it. But in doing
this we neither characterize DOl" measure '
the quality.
:0 Sec F . Schumacher: Dt:r Grin tkr- & u
ku'u t, Stuttgart 1938 , p - 119.
11 E . Lundberg (Ark;rrktur"'u Formsprl k,
Stockh olm 1'}45-61) h:m:lly discusses the pet!-
blans related 10 spaec, mass, and surface , but
intrOduce. an a.m hropomor phistic term inology
which ind icates me frrms as ' falling' 'rising ' ,
, stretching ' . 'lying'. 'spreading', ' resting',
'lifting', 'ascendi ng', 'stand ing' , ' tI"ownin g' ,
' hovering ' , '.inking'. ' weighing ' etc. Thus
he lalb about the "standing-rising-carrying-
re>ting.weigh ing-<:rownin g.morivc ' of an crd-
er (VIII, p. 30)' Lu ndJX".g uses mne CODtt prs
w ithoul pm;ise definitio ns, and his an:alyscs
arc consequently ra ther irrdevant .
n Vogt _GOknil : op . cit. pp . So ft.
does not imply that the qualitative concepts should be abolished. Th ey 2J The prescm writer bas talked in Ibis
$ensc about ' rising ' and ' falling' movements
may serve as useful catchwords for facts which have been explained in the b pde, of Michd angelo . See C. :-Jor-
analytically, and should therefore be introduced towards the end of the berg.Schulz: _\ fichd""gdo ,om OTkiukt . Oslo
investigation to exhibit important similarities and differences within a ."s.
24 The la ~man u.ually cxpu the UI his.
group of architectural works. %J The qualitative concepts are often adjectives toeian to use concepts whicb help him 10
which designate general anthropomorphistic conditions (' vigorous' , 'weak' , upuic~ (. understand ') me work of an.

proud ' etc.} and their use in architectural criticism should be in harmony
with this general meaning. We ought to add that the qualitative concepts
can also have a releasing, inciting function. Just because they designate
general human conditions, they may open our eyes to characteristic qualities
inherent in the work of architecture, and thus give the architectural experi-
ence a point of departure. 24 Th e importance of this function implies that
we should avoid any arbitrary use of the qualitative concepts. Although
n Even if it is n:l'"irnaJ as rrctan gular
or distorted becauoe of the form al context. it
h,lt 10 be thtnikd as square . The description
has 10 render an ao:ount of the objectiye
stimulus-situatio n .
26 It w.... d ifficult to "",,oid confu.i on wil h
qu a!itatiye concepts before the modern philo-
'IOphy of b nR"age had investigated the prob-
lem of ' meaning ' .

the qualitative concepts may be useful, they do not belong to the archi-
tectural theory proper. This is also due to the fact that they cannot be
attached to particular formal properties. What we experience as a ' narrow
space' is highly relative, and changes according to the situation. A physical
space which may be named 'narrow' within one style, could be ' wide '
within another. A square space, however, is objectively square. n If we
find out that tw~ different periods both make use of narrow spaces' ,
this does not therefore imply that they have a relevant relationship to each
other. The reasons for their employment of narrow spaces' may be very
different, that is, the empirical-operational definition of the concept is not
the same. The qualitative concepts, therefore, should only be indicated as
poles in a very limited and well defined context. We realize that more
invariant concepts have to be used to allow for an adequate formal de-
scription. Th e concepts employed at present arc usually mingled with
qualitative terms in such a way that the analysis loses its preciseness. 26
Lately, for instance, a diffuse space concept has come to the fore. As this
tendency is of a fairly recent date, and perhaps only of passing importance,
we will first consider some more traditional concepts.
Th e oldest formal theories stem from the Pythagorean conception that
'All is Number '. Th e Pythagoreans discovered that the musical harmonies
correspond to the simple numerical relations which result when measuring
the length of a sounding chord. The octave thus is produced when the
length of the chord is doubled, the fifth corresponds to the ratio 2 : 3 and 27 See Schumacher: op. cit pp. 14 fl. An
introduction to the ideas of the P}"th agoreanl
the fourth to 3: 4 T he human music produced on this basis was considered i~ givcn in H . Ka}"ser: Ak"""";s, Basel 1946.
an imitation of the ' music of the spheres' supposed to result from the 2J V itruviu~ , f . Il. 3-4. The iden of Vi-
numerical relations inherent in the cosmic order. We have no direct sources truvius arc extensively disernscd by P. H .
Scholfield : Th~ Throry of Proportion in A~
which prove that the Greeks transferred these 'ideas to architecture, but chit t_ r, Cambl-idge '958 , pp. 16 if .
the definition of architecture as frozen music' seems to have very old 29 Vitruv iu ~, m. I. 9.
roots. Xl In the writings of Vitruvius we find no reference to the musical 30 Vitruyju~ , IV, I, 6-8.
harmonies. Instead we encounter the idea that harmony presupposes the Jl See R. Winkowcr: A,chjltlmll lTi,.
repetition of a module, in such a way that all the parts of a building are riplu... f"IStim.
brought into simple numerical relations with each other. 2J Thi s idea is 11 >2 Albrni : op. cit., YD. See C. Norberg-
Schulz , ' Lc ultimc intenzioni di Alberti ', ill
derived from the organization of the hu man bod y." The Doric column A d oJ I ~ltitu. tu.m Ro monu m N oJ, tlCgiM'. Vol. f,
thus reproduces the masculine proportions with a height which is 6 times Roma IJ.
the diameter at the base, while the Ionic column shows the feminine ratio B Alberti, VII, IV .

of I : 9. The Corinthian column, finally, reproduces the slender figure of 34 Wiltkowet: op. cit. put IV, pp. 89 if.
the young girl. 30 We thus see that Antiquity tried to define the formal
qualities of architecture with the aid of numbers; the repetition of com-
mensurable magnitudes was regarded as the prerequisite of architectural
order. But we have to underline the fact that the nu mbers were not
considered important by themselves. The numerical relations became
meaningful as manifestations of the order inherent in nature, as known
from the study of the huma n figure and the .celestial bodies. On this basis
columns could also be replaced by caryatides and atlantes.
The architectural theory of the Renaissance united the ideas of Vitruvius
and the Pythagoreans. Jl Alberti thus gives an accurate and detailed de-
scription of the proportions needed to give order to the Christian 'temple' ,"
H is theory of the perfection of certain shapes also stems from numerical
ideas, combined with the observation that nature 'prefers the round forms'."
Palladia employed harmonical ratios to organize a succession of several 12
spaces. In general, Wittkower has shown that the numerical composition
of the Renaissance is based upon the theory of musical harmonies, and
the idea that these represent the cosmic ordcr.." The ideal was a proportion-
ally ordered totality, where 'nothing could be taken away or added without
destroying the harmony', a 'unity in the multiplicity' which presupposed
the repetition of commensurables. The theory of the orders was also taken
over uncritically from Vitruvius.

91
 During the Baroque period the classical theory of architecture became 1~ Scholfield : 01'. cie.. p. 1'; Sch u m~cher:
01" cir., 1'. 78; wirtkower : 01'. cit . p. 126;
exposed to criticism. Perrault maintains that proportions are hardly per- C. Pcrr~ult : Oraorm ane" du cinq esphn d"
ceptible 3\ and concludes that the rules of architecture, rather than mani- coJonnn. P ~ri. 1633.
festing an a priori beauty, arc a result of habits. This criticism was 36 D. H ume : On Ihr Standll1'd oj T asl( ,
1757
formulated philosophically by H ume, who says : Beauty is no quality in
37 Laugicr : Obs"vations sur I' A",hillulT
things themselves : It exists merely in the mind which contemplates them; (1765>. ~rl n Dc. inconveniences del ordres
and each mind perceives a different beauty.' 36 At the same time Laugier d'Aschilceture ' , III. T nOle 37.
Most architectural theorists of the Renais-
criticizes the classical orders and questions their organizing power in sauce and the Baroque .upportcd the Vi_
architectural practice. 11 The thinking of the seventeenth and eighteenth reuvia n iOO th at thc cbcic ocdcn represent
diffe ren t ' ch;u-x tcn' , and accordingly had to
centuries thus led to a break with conceptions which had been basic since he u.ed in connection wim p:uticul;u- build
Antiquity. T his tendency is already evident in Borromini who ' barbarically' ing task.. The ma>culine Doric order was
set himself against all traditional rules for good proportion. Rather than applied 10 fortific.:nion,. city-gales ~nd utili-
t.rian buildings . Corinthi~n column . were
organizing his plans and elevations on the basis of commensurable magni- used in churches ~nd. I"'laco, whil" the
tudes, he employed geome trical methods to determine the subdivisions of Ionic on:ICI" represented a hMll10nic m UD
belwcen m~ e,,[Kmes . h w~. for inSlance
the main shape. 31 The plan of S. Iva alIa Sapienza. for instance, is derived 13 ap plied 10 to wn -halls. s..c the ""celknt
from two intersecting equilateral triangles, and, as is commonly known, 51 udy by E. Fon,man : Dorird . loniKh.
KorinlhiKA ; SlOCkholm ' 9'5',
the height of an equilateral triangle is incommensurable with the sides.
31 Stt R . Wi ttkowCl" : AN "nd A reh' IK IUTI!
The method of Borromini is related to mediaeval practice which deter-
in If<1ly 160<>-'750. lIarmondswonh 1m.
mined the architectural form ad quadratum or ad triangulum. J9 The Pl" ' 32 fl.
geometrical conception of the architectur al form, however. also stems from J9 See R. Winkower : "Systems of Proper-
Pythagorean-Platonic ideas, and we understand that Borromini broke away lion ', in A uhilfl' Yearboo k , 5. Pl" 12 fl.

from a particular anthropomorphistic (Vitr uvian) interpretation of this 4() See wirtkoweri' Synan... ' f..... lileratule.

tradition. Common to both the numerical and the geometrical conceptions 41 Lc CorbUlicr: I.e .\/odul l;>r, Boulogne
195 (1
is that the proportions are regarded as the decisive formal factor, an idea
which is still alive in the everyday language of architects.
T he more recent theories of proportion are numerous. 4() It has, for
instance, been common to superimpose a net of ' invisible' lines on facades
,.
and plans, to secure an ordered interrelationship of the parts. In this way
one has also tried to prove that the masterpieces of the past are based upon
subdivisions of the circle, on the golden section or on parallel diagonals etc.
Such ideas have been the point of departure for Le Corbusier, who is the
author of one of the most recent attempts at establishing a system of 15
proportion. 41 Le Corbusier explicitly says that the problem of form is of
a geometrical nature and that the work of art is mathematical '. Like
Vitruvius he finds the basis for his system in the human figure. ' The man

9'
 42 Thil is do n~ by Scholfield : 0p. cit.
with the raised arm ' is the basic measure (2.26 m.). Thi s measure he divides
according to the golden section and thus arrives at a scale where all the 43 Wittkower (' Brunelleschi and Proportion
in Perspective", in Journal &/ the Warhurg
dimensions are related. The single dimensions on the scale may also be and Courtau/J lnltit uts, Vol. XVI , 19'53) trie s
added, to allow for a larger and more flexible number. The number of to show that wc experience: , imilar pr&port ions
in spire: of th~ pers~tive . ~ause the for~.
dimensions is further increased by the introduction of a second scale where shortenings fann a regular ~es of d iminish.
the measures are half of those on the first one. In letting all the measures ing dimensions. Thi , i. ce:rtai.nJ.y corred. but
Ihe eXl'C'rience describM by Winkower is
of the building correspond to values from the scales, Le Corbusier believes mainly due to the repetition of Gn talr.likc
to attain the desired order, at the same time as the dimensions remain motivQ.
;; human ' . T he latter idea is new, in so far as previous theories of proportion +I Norberg-Schula: ' Alberti.. . ",
only tried to manifest the human order, without using the real siu of
man as a basic measure. Not only because of the varying size of huma n
beings is the idea hardly convincing. That measures derived from the
huma n body are considered more pleasing than others is a typical case
of ;; number-mysticism ' .
It is not our task to compare the organizing power of the different
systems of proportion." Rather we have to investigate how the idea in
general presents itself in the light of the psychology of perception. T he
objection that the foreshortenings prevent us from perceiving directly the
numerical relationships, is, as we have seen, not new. A square may look
like a trapezoid and a circle like an oval. The constancy phenomena show
that the experienced foreshortenings do not follow the laws of perspective.
Furthermore Gestalt psychologists have stressed the fact that shapes change
according to the context in which they appear. Even without foreshorten-
iogs, a square may look rectangular because of its environment. And still,
architectural history seems to show that numerical and geometrical rela-
tionships may produce architectu ral order. T he explanation is simple.
Through the repetition of G~stalt.lik~ motires the numerical order becomes
perceptible. In the interiors of Brunelleschi we recognize without effort 16
that the square and the semi-circle are used throughout, although we see
the single elements under different foreshortenings. We recognize the
elements because of their general similarity (form-constancy), and sponte-
neously perceive the building as an ;; addition ' of elementary geometrical
shapes. 43 In Alberti's Sant'A ndrea in Mantua, both the exterior and the
interior are determined by a pregnant ' wall-theme ' , which is varied 17
proportionally. 4~ T he perceived order is not dependent upon the ratios

93

being exactly I: I or I : 2 , but upon our recognition of the theme. When 45 Mia van der Robe calls the proportiom
a means of architectural expression' . hm ere-
this has happened, we may analytically investigate the organization and ph asizes that they have the character of in-
discover the underlying ratios. But these ratios are never perceived as such; tuitions ; iD our terminology. mt...,tions 01
interme<iw-y objects.
rather we recognize the dimensions as similar ', 'almost simila; ' or
46 A Riegl : Spilromitde K.."'lifl dUJrri~.
' completely different ". This presupposes that the ratios are presented as 1901
pregnant visual Gestalten. Invisible lines which are supposed to determine
the proportions, in most cases have to be rejected as a fiction. Thi s docs
not mean that we want to abolish the number completely. When we
experience sim ilarities, the repetition of equal dements implies a numerical
order. But the number enters as a purely secondary d ement of the de-
scription. The experienced order thus has to be understood as a character-
istic Gestalt, in accordance with the investigations of Piaget. What is
said above does not, as it may seem, imply that we want to take our
immediate experiences as a point of departure for the description. We
only want to describe the actually present form, or the intended form,
by means of concepts which are in accordance with our psychological
knowledge. In general, we understand that the term ' proportion' only
refers to secondary properties of the architectural form, and we must
conclude that systems of proportion only can play a minor role in an
integrated theory of architecture. Th e qualities of classical architecture
are primarily due to other factors than numerical relationships, and the
expression good proportions> designates the presence of a satisfactory
intermediary object rather than the existence of certain ' harmonic ' ratios. 4~
Towards the end of the nineteenth century we encounter the first
attempts to establish a new basis for the theory of architecture. Riegl
takes the immediate experience as his starting point, and puts forward
the strange theory of takt isch and optisch as the two categories of per
ception. Forms either result from a tactile conception which is tied to the
surface, or from an optical introduction of ' depth-values' . 46 We must
reject the idea that objects are perceived either tactually or visually, or as
a mixture of the two modes. What we perceive are m~aningful forms ,
and their meaning does not result from the use of hands or eyes during
the act of perception. What we see is perhaps partly determined by tactile
experiences (Piaget), but this does not allow us to characterize a form as
being tactile. Th e perception of depth , by the way, is also conditioned by

94
tactile experiences. In spite of these objections, we have to recognize that 47 s~ th ~ criticism by A. Schmarscw :
Grufl db~gn'D ~ d" Kunftw;surucllajt, Lcipzig
Riegl initiated a new approach to the problem of architectural form by lind Berlin 1905.
introducing sur/act (mass) and spaa as poles. Riegl himself, however, 48 WoltHin : op. cit.
always describes the architectural form as seen from one standpoint, and ~ A. s.:hmar50w, Das W" Ufl d" archi.
his view remains ' pictorial'. ~7 This also holds true for Wolffiin, whose td:.to"ucll.." Scllop/ung. Leipzig I~.
GrundbegriUe were developed to describe the formal differences inherent 50 B. Uvi, 54?" .,..d..,..l ",ditettu.ra, To-
rino 1948, p. 22.
in the pictorial art of the Renaissance and the Baroque. ~8 The transfer
of his concepts to architecture has not proved fruitful, especially because
of the complete neglect of the spatial aspect. In contrast to Wolffiin,
Schmarsow sees this as the core of the problem. -w The theory of Schmarsow,
however, does not proceed much beyond Riegl. His most important con-
tribution is the realization that the beholder's movement in space is essential
to the experience of architecture. T he perception of space he interprets as
a function of the human body: we stand erect and move forward. We
have seen that this theory is psychologically untenable, but at the same
time we should point to the fact that Schmarsow's idea of architectural
history as the history of changing space-conceptions ", has been funda-
ment al to many recent architectural theories. We therefore have to take
a closer look at the space concept and its applications.
T he Italian Bruno Zevi characteristically represents the scholars who
define architecture as ' the art of space ' . H e says: "Impossessarsi dello
spazio, saperlc 'vedere ' , costituisce Ia chiave d' ingressc alia comprensione
degli cdifici. '50 We can always, of course, understand architecture as the
art of space' in the sense that a particular place (location) has to be given
a particular character (quality). But it is important immediately to stress
that this character may be independent of the space-form, and rather result
from the occurrence of certain symbolical motives or from a particular
organization of the walls. A typical example is furnished by the comparison 18
of Brunellcschi's Old Sacristy at S. Lorenzo in Florence with the New 19
Sacristy by Michelangelo (the Medici Chapel). The two spaces have basi-
cally the same form ; the treatment of the walls, however, is completely
different. Michelangelo's chapel has to be understood as a symbolical
"world-architecture", fundamentally different from Bruncllcschi's simple
definition of stereometrical elements. Michelangelo's solution, by the way,
is relatively independent of the space-form: in several other cases he has

95
 51 Sec C . Norberg-Schulz : Mjdl(/~ "grl(} . .,
carried through the same symbolical theme under completely different spa-
'2 ' II Partenone c opera non arcbitertonica ,
tial conditions: as a hall' in the Cappella Sistina, as a plastic shape (mass) m a non per que' ta ce. s.a di c, sefe un c.apoJ.:..
in the tomb of Julius II, as a succession of different spaces in the Biblioteca voro d'arte, ed in sede d i storia d ella scultur a
Laurcnziana, and as a ' dynamic ' baldachine in the Cappella Sforza. 51 noi possiamo afferma re ehe chi noD am a i1
Pan enone non ha scnsibiliti e. tetin .' (Zevi:
One might of course maintain that each of these works has its particular op. cit., p. 59)
character, but as the space-form only plays a minor role in determining ~3 Zcvi thus ba ses his thcor y on a particular
this character, it Seems inexpedient to say that we are concerned with perceptual schema. VOK'-GOknil make. the
same error in presupposing th:1t architecture
examples of the art of space'. Rather we should say that the characters _ spa, V0K'-Giiknil' s definition of archi:
m mifest different works of architecture, and realize that architecture is rectere as Um,~um~,kb"u ob viously implies
a wi>h to transcend the purdy formal a. pt
determined by many diverse factors, among which the space-form is only (p. 63)' T~ tam U",,,,um i. intended to
one. In the two sacristies we should thus talk about different ' architectural oompri'IC ~ mil;"u factors , I nst~ of describ-
ing mea"illg. , ho~vcr . she td ls about ex-
expeliences", rather than spatial experiences' . perienees. E. Cornell (op . cil.) ;>]", employs
But Zevi surely does not only consider the space-form when he defines a d itfu'IC sp:ta: concept and makes the mean -
architecture as 'the art of space'. He rather has the total 'spatial effe ct' ingleu .UtCmenl that , .. the appearance of
our vi.ual world ha , on e dim ension only. i. e.
(Raumwirkung) in mind. And this effect is determined by the treatment deJ'lh ' (p. 32).
of the boundaries, by the illumination, and even by symbolical motives
for that matter. Hence it corresponds to what we above called the ' archi-
tectural character ' . In other words: by introducing the concept ' art of
space' , one has so far only substituted ODe term (, art of space' ) for another
one {' architecture '). T he one-sided glorification of the space concept in
the writings of many present day architectural theorists therefore seems
to be rather dubious. It does not help much to give the concept a clear
definition, for instance by saying that ' space' refers to a ph ysical, Euclidean
space. Such definitions would work against their own purpose, because
the space concept we arc discussing is intended to cover the architectural
totality itself. As it is absurd to reduce the architectural totality to its
spatial aspects, we have to reject the current diffuse use of the term. In
Zevi's own writings we find the best illustration of the failure of the
concept. To be consistent he removes the Parthenon from architectural
history, on the grounds that the interior space (i. e. the a lla) of the Greek
temple only plays a minor role in the totality. 52 The diffuse space concept
actually stems from taking the immediate experience as a point of de-
partur e : one perceives ' spatial effects' and tries to describe these directly. 53
But in this way a more precise and fruitful USe of the: word ' space ' is
prevented.
 In architectural theory there is no reason to let the word ' space'
designate anything but the tri-dimensionality of any building." But it
is not said that this property is always of architectural importance. Expres-
sions like ' spatial experience ' or ' spatial effect' should therefore only
be employed when the stereometric volume is of decisive importance.
It is not practical to distinguish between "physical ' and architectural'
space, but only between physical space and architecture , The organization
of the physical space enters as an intentional pole in the architectural
concretization. We thus maintain that it is convenient to employ a narrow
but precise spa~ concept which denotes the tri-dimensional organization.
Before we investigate its possible differentiations, however, we have to
take a look at some of the more valuable cont ributions to the development
of the form concept in general.
The first important step was taken by Paul Frankl. 55 Frankl tried to
'l-4 Some writers have cmplo~ the concept
of ' our -dimensionl l sp;>' in connection with
Hchitectunl problems. Zevi thu s writes : ' ... b
mente dell'uomo scopri me . oltrc Ie tre d i-
men sioni prcspett iche, ne esisteya una qu aere."
(op. cit. p. 25) We haye maintained that the
abstract physical concept of '.pace.time ' which
rd er. 10 microcosmie and astronomical phe-
nomena . has noth ing 10 do with the space
of architetmr e. Th e att hitectur:d tou]ily pos-
lOses an infinite nu mber of dimensioes,
55 P. Frankl : Di~ EIIlWickf"flllpIusJ~fl J"
flr""~11 B""k'<Ilst. Leipzig und Berlin t9' 4.
56 Th is docs nOt imp ly that the descriptiOn!
of Frankl aTe complet e or satisfactory. His
concepti need revision and supplement. But
w e should sIre.. that he Wa S the fir st to
approach the architectur al totality in a rele.
vanr way.

establish a conceptual scheme for the analysis of architectural compositions 57 See P. Frankl : Das S)'stml J" Ku1lJt_
U!iJl~flKlusft, Brunn t938, ?p. 105 fl . for
introducing terms like ' space-cells.' (Raumull~n) and ' mass-forms' (Kor diagr~ms illustrating the difkrenl combina_
p~rformcn). T his presupposes a purely quantitative spa~ concept; space tions.
is something that can be measured, divided and added. Frankl was thus
the first to attempt a description of the important physical space relation-
ships in architecture. He does not talk about experiences, but describes
in an exact and pertinent way how architectural totalities arc organized. 56
The two basic concepts employed by Frankl, are 'addition ' and "division' . 20
While the buildings of ~' O: Renaissance may be understood as an addition
of independent clements (s}-ice cells, limited surfaces and defined masses),
the Baroque deprives the pal ': S of their independence by assigning them
a form which appears meaningless in isolation. In Baroque architecture
the totality is given ' in advance' and ' divided ' afterwards. As we under-
stand it, Frank l introduces the numerical and geometrical relations we
have discussed above in a new way. Instead of losing himself in abstract
mathematics , he refers to concrete architectural Gestalten. H e also intro-
duces concepts like ' row' (Rdh~) and group ' ( Grupp~) to designate
different types of formal structures. Such rows and groups can be ' open'
or ' closed ' , and may result from the operations of addition and division.
Finally he uses the words ' interpenetration' (Durchdringung) and ' fusion '
( V~rmisch u n g) to express that the elements arc melting together. 57

97
 SS A. E. Brin ckm:mn : Pla,rik u" d &um
Related to Fra nkl is A. E. Brinckmann , who also employs quantitative
alJ Grund/orme" kU"JII~,i,dI" GUlallu" g,
formal concepts to describe space- and mass-compositions. S8 T he mass- Mijnch~n 1922. Brinckmann sums up hi. ideas

forms he describes by means of the categories' Dcr regulare Baukorper ' , in Bauku1lJt . Tubingen 1956. Hi, point of
view i, purdy formal, and th~ pragmatic
' Die gesch!ossene Baugruppe' , ' Die balaneicrtc Baugruppc ' , and ' Die prabl,""" arc put off with some g~ncr al re-
aufgd oste Baugruppe ' . He also recognizes the importance of the treatment marks und~r th~ hC<lding ' Man baur '00 . wie
ma n s'ch selbsr cmpfindet. (pp . 5 fl .)
of the surfaces and investigates ' Geschm iickte Flachcn ", "Gliederung der
59 Sec A. E. Brin ckma nn: p/aJz u"d MOIlu
Fldchen durch Ho rizontalen und Vatikalen' , Ordnung durch Ord- m m t , Berlin I~ ,md Dl!UJsdl e SttJdth.>u-
nungcn' , 'Ordnung durch Zahl und Mass' , and discusses finally the kunst , Frankfurr/M 19II .
"Rastcrschcmata ' of our time. We notice that the numbers and the classical 60 Brinckmann : BauJ:.unst.._. p. 73.
orders only appear as organizing means among many others, and we 61 D. Fr~y : Gatik u" J R~"iJJ4"a .
Aug.-
welcome Brinckmann's attempts at an empirical classification of diffe rent busg '929. and Gru" dk gu" i zu ti,,"
va
gl~id~"k" Ku" stwUu " sd aft , w tee 1949.
types of composition. His categories, however, are less systematic than 61 Sec D. Frry : Grr." dl~gu"g ... pp. 6,
those of Frankl, and rather than belonging to a consistent theory of 80 if. Frry defines the W~g-Motj" relative 10
architectural form, they invite further study. T his also holds true for his a beholder , as an apm.encc , but th is is not
neasury. Th e successicu nn very well be
spatial categories, which are labelled "Der rcgulare Quadu raum', "Der d.,.rnbcl as " purdy formal property .
Gewolberaam", ' Die kombiniutcn Raum gruppcn' , 'Raumdurchdring- 6) For insu llCC in Palladia' s Villa RotOnd.:! .
ungen', and ' Rh ythmische Raum folgen ' . His analysis of the mass- and
space-relationships in the cities of the past is very inspiring. " The descrip-
tions of the ' movements ' of architectural forms, however, are less con-
vincing, being based upon imprecise qualitative concepts. 60
This problem has been treated in an inspiring way by Dagobert Frey. 61
Frey asserts that many architectural compositions obviously have a 'begin-
ning ' and an ' end ' , just like works of music and literature. T his is not
always the case; the centralized space of the Renaissance is thus a sim ul-
taneous com position, ' resting in itself ' , which ought to be experienced
by placing ourselves directly in its centre. Many other formal structures,
however, have to be described as ' succu sivc ' and der Wcg may be
considered a formal motive in architecture with rich possibilities for
variation. 62 T he succession can be more or less continuous and ramified.
Entra nces, passages and concluding' goals' (e. g. the apse) must be under-
stood as parts of successive compositions, and the term' spatial succession'
(Raumfolgc) is introduced. Simultaneous and successive orders may also 12
be combined to form a higher unity." As the plastic counterpart to the
simultaneous, resting space, Frey defines the resting mass (Das Mal~Moti(1) ,
exemplified by pyramids and obelisks. Such masses are often used to
terminate a spatial succession. " In general we may say that the studies
of Frey show that it is not enough to describe the indi vidual forms
as such, their position in the system must also be indicated. Prey's
concepts not only open interesting new possibilities for the description
of the architectural form , but also establish a contact with the' meaning'
of the work of architecture (see note 90 for Frey's definition of the
architectural totality).
T he conceptual schemes of Frankl, Frey, and Brinckmann show that
the formal analysis can and should become more exact and complete than
the theories of proportion and the diffuse space concepts allow. Thus we
have to describe the stcrcometrical form of the spaces and masses as well
as the character of the bounding surfaces. Furthermore, we have to render
an account of all the different possibilities for the formation of rows,
groups and hierarchies, and of the ordering principles they stem from
(addition-division, simultaneity-succession etc.). T his leads to the de-
mand for a systematic theory of architectural form, which incorporates
relevant information from psychology. system-theory and informatio n-
theory.
The first attemp t in this direction is due to Hans Sedlmayr. 6'i Sedlma yr
takes Gestalt psychology as his point of departure, and stresses constantly
that the parts have to be u nderstood as functions of the whole, and that
any work of art results from a ' basic formative prin ciple ' . 66 H is book
on Borromini illustrates this view. The investigation starts wit h a formal
description of Borromini's principal' architectural Gestalten'. Space-form,
space-boundaries, vertical organization, and particular elements of im-
partance (such as the usc of the orders) arc described and are unified in
a conclusion defining the formal structure as consisting of "relief-units "
(Rd i( f( inh( ilm ) 61. T he properties of these units arc examined in more
detail, with the result that they have certain possibilities of variation. They
may also be employed in such a way as to create an ambiguous form.
Furthermore Sedlmayr explains that the formal structure may have several
. levels' (Schicht(tJ ) at which different formative prin ciples are reigning.
The spatial composition may. for instance, exhibit a type of order different
from that of the boundaries. He compares this state of affairs to the
distinction of melody" 'harmony' , and ' rhythm ' in music. No T he formal
99
38 S4 ' Die indische Weg-Form i.! be. tirnmt
durcb d:I.. L'mwandc1n und Umkreisen des
Males. ' (D . Frey : G,u "dl~grmg ... , p. 1 0~)
6S s.,e H . Sedlmayr: Vir A ,....},it....kl u. 80'-
romi" iz. :1-. Aufl., ~{ iindt en 1939: Dir "1_
ttC}," "K der Kal},rJ'<lk , Zurich 1950, md
/a},a.. .. Ber" }, Il, J Filc},er v<>" E'/Ilc}" wen-
Miinchen ' 956.
66 S~e II. Scdlmayr . Ktm ZI ""J Wa".""il ,
p. 94. Scd lm ~ )t refers to G<: s!3lt psychology
and th e analytic methods developed in F.
Weinhand l : Di" GClta/lll"aly/c , 1927.
6' ScdImayr : 80 ,..,om;" i. p. JJ. T he ana-
lysis of the Gothic cathedr al lead. CO different
Gcsulte n, ~bove all the In.ie ' b2ld:l.ch inc-
elements", and co thc com plex orp nil..3tion
of the well. [See Scd!mJyr: D ic E"mr}, ,,ng... ).
6lI Scd l m ~yr : 8 0rrom;" ;. p. 2J. ' Ma.n kommt
hci der Bescbreibun g de s Gebildes nicht m il
hlos. ci"cm Struklu rprin z ip ~u . Man brauch!
Ct" Prinzip, da ss die Verhaltnisse de r Raum
teile, ein a"dercl , d~" die Octe der Saulcn
erkla rl, und noeh andere aur Ableilung weit-
erer T aua chen . [edem .soIchcn S1nlktlll'-
prinri p cnu pneh l eiM: ' Schich!e' .i nnvollcr
Z U<Jmmcn b.ii nge inner h...lb des Gebildes.. '
21
22
 69 Dj" Enlttd"mg. show. ~n an~logou s
analysis is followed by a genetical analysis where the structure is derived
organization.
from the building task proper and from the historical presuppositons."
70 Sedlmayr : Borrominj, P. 95.
The characteristic elements of Borromini are not only related to the histori-
71 Some of his results may perhaps},., dis.
cal tradition, but are also understood as stages in his own development. cussed. but the method is SUp"rior . Excellent
Furthermore, Sedlmayr shows how the whole comes into existence through structun l analyses have aho ~n c:lrried OUt
by Winkower. Kahler. Bandmann, Ka'Chnin .
the elements. He thus first goes from the whole to the parts and then Weinberg etc.
back to the whole again, in accordance with the best rules of Gestalt theory. n Th e following exposition certainly sim-
The book continues with the interpretation proper, where an explanation plifies the situation. but it gives a convcniem
suu 'q of the main trend. in [he theory of
of Borromini's formal structure is taken as the basis for understanding arehi[!uu l form .
his personality, his outlook on life (Wdtbild) and his historical position.
Sedlmayr thus mentions the ' coolness' (Kiilte), ' sobriety ' (Niichtunh eil),
'crystalline hardness' (k ristallincr Hiirle) which characterize the works of
Borromini, and on the other hand their 'organic growth " (organisches
Wachstum), ' pliability' (Biegsamkdt), and ' movement' (Bewegung). Here
he is allowed to introduce such qualitative concepts because they correspond
to exactly defined formal properties, which have not only been described,
but also related to the architectural tradition. 1O Scdlmayr, therefore. has
carried through an architectural analysis which in principle is complete
and exhaustive. 71
We may distinguish three characteristic phases in the ' development '
towards a suitable method for formal analysis: 72

I. Form as proportion. This point of view is the more pnmltlve, as

it only considers a very abstract property of the architectural totality.
Hi storically it stems from the misunderstanding that number is found
in nature, and it expresses a desire for an absolute beauty. We have shown
that the ratios as such do not warrant a satisfactory architectural form.
' Rules of proportion ' only have an ordering effect when they lead to
concrete architectural Gestalten. The concrete Gestalt is decisive, not the
invisible mathematical relations. The psychology of perception shows that
Gestalt is only rarely correlated with particular numerical relations.

2. Form as space. This point of view is especially popular at present,

and has to be understood as a well-intended attempt at approaching the
formal totality. We have seen, however, that it is inexpedient to use the

100
space concept to cover totalities (intermediary objects) which transcend
the Euclidean space. All attempts at introducing a diffuse space concept
as the basis of formal theory must be rejected as confusing. The employ-
ment of a purely Euclidean space concept, on the other hand, has to be
supplemented with other formal categories.
3. Form as structure. This point of view still belongs to the future,
although we can point to important contributions. It consists in under-
standing the architectural form as a whole where many different factors
are unified. A structural analysis' has to render an account of the Gestalten
(elements) and relations which determine the formal totality. Sometimes
the spatial factor may be decisive, at other times the treatment of the
boundaries, or even the use of the materials.
If we extend the concept of structure also to cover the contents', and
the relations between form and content, the analysis becomes a real and
exhaustive architectural analysis.
In general we have to maintain that architecture should not be reduced
to one of the dimensions we use for its description. If we employ a concept
like space, in an analysis of the architectural totality, this does not entitle
us to define architecture as the art of space' .
13 We have seen that the theo ries of th e
past usually th reat isolated semiotica! aspecli.
(5 Mortis : ' Esth ctic:s., ;', p. 146). It is also
ecmmc e tbat architectural b.istoriam mix th e
aspects. The same author. for in stance, ma y
descr ibe the: Rena issanee syntactieally (iii
' forr!W ebrity ') and the woeu of the Baro-
qu e pcagmatiully (th eir ' inlOxicatin g effect j .
A compl ete conflllioo of this kin d i5 fwnd
in D. Win field : AD Essay in Criticism nf
Atch iletlUtC ' . /0 1U1l,,] of Acsthcties fltl d A11
CriMsm, Vol. XIII. N0.3. March 1955
14 The d eDUlld for <=pirieal COll(Cpts i5
enen tial . A KiCDtifie lre.:l.tm ent of ardtitectu.te
doc:s no! eo115;5t in I2king over conccpu from
other fid ds, or in the appl ication of general
mathema tical tools. At the Hcch schulde fUr
Geslal lUng in UIm the Gnmd/cn rr 10 a larg e
extent ccn sh n in the teachin g of ' exact met h-
od s ' wh ich, however, hard ly ha ve anyth ing
to do with the real subjeCis studied at the
school. (See A. Friishaug : Visu..lIe Mcthodik ,
ULM 4).

A N OUTL Il'o"E. OF THE THEORY

In the light of the preceding survey of the more characteristic concepts

used in architectural theory, we are able to present more clearly the
outlines of our own integrated theory.
Firstly we have to stress that the theory should comprise all the semio-
tical dimensions. Only in this way does it become complete. " By saying
that the theory should have a semiotical basis, however, we have only
given a first hint at its organization. The semiotical scheme has to be
filled with concepts adapted to the field we are treating. T he concepts
should be both empirical and logically unified into a system. 14 The theory
is not intended to propagate particular solutions, but to render an account

101

of possible factors and combinations. Alth ough the theory should be able
to cover the architectural structures of any epoch, this does not imply
that architecture has an absolute basis. In itself the theory is ' empty' .
The theory consists in dimensions of comparison which make possible
the description (analysis) of any architectural totality (intermediary object)."
In the previous section we have discussed some of these dimensions, but
we have so far left out several conspicuous aspects of the architectural
totality.
The most obvious of these aspects is the technical structure, that is.
the role of materials and buildi ng constructions. Firstly we understand
that the technical dimension docs not form a part of the building task.
T he technical possibilities surely belong to the prerequisites the architect
has to take into consideration, but this does not prevent technics from
being a means to the solution of the tasks. As both form and technics
belong to this categor)'. one could imagine the possibility of bringing them
together in a unified means-concept. This , however, is not expedient. The
syntactical analysis describes formal properties without asking how the
forms are materially constructed. It is also an empirical fact that the
formal organization often stands in oppositon to or is independent of the 16
construction. 76 A confusion of form and technics would furthe rmore result
in qualitative concepts like ' load-bearing forms' . In describing certain
buildings the formal concepts may dominate, while others above all demand
the employment of technical terms. 77 It is therefore necessary to establish
the technical dimension as an independent category, next to the building
task and the form. The distinction between technics and form, however,
is not always evident. The character of a surface (texture, colour) is for
instance a function of material properties. And still it has to be understood
as an aspect of the formal dimension. We can express this state of affairs
by saying that the diffe rent materials have particular formal possibilities,
while their technical possibilities consist in their faculty of carrying weights,
spanning over, dos ing off and insulating against, and not least in their
ability to be worked into technical clements which constitute technical
systems. Th e role of technics in the architectural totality will therefore
be treated in a separate chapter. 78
102
;~ In the writing- memionoo, Scdlmavr
give~ si"gl~structu ral analyses. Th e integrated
theory of architcnure offer. the b,sis for all
poHib/~ ~n uctural analy= , a. well a' gene_
tiul and comparat ive ana!yse~.
~6 For ;n.tao" in the areh itecture of the
Renaissance where the architectura l orders are
technicallj- 'fictive', , llached to the real man-
. tructure. (See D. Frey: Hr"rntl"us St _ P~lt',.
EntN'''''! N'>i/ rri,u Apa1(ryp"~n, Wien 1915).
77 T h;s applies 10 Gothic :lI"ehitectuJ'e and
a!.o to much of modern arch itecture. See C.
>:orberg-Schub : Nervi _ ingeniiir ellef ;If.
kiteh " , in Bygge1(unsr, NO.2, T<l.
78 Vi:ru vius ,I ready diWngui.hed the tech-
nin! aspect u a $epar, te category (jirmi /4S.
I , Ill, 2), and most theorists have followed
him. U~ua1ly. ho...-ever. the technical dim en-
sion is treatecl in iroliuio". In some cases it
has been given prime im portmce, especially
by Semper who d erived the form (.tyle) from
she technical meth ods of production (lkr Sril
in aen tednisdU':n u na u ~ron ;K"'en Xi",n e1l .
1861>-63). T he same tendency has turned u p
recently in the ...T iling. of P. L. Nervi , who
says tha t the main task of the architect is
-e conceive the t<'Chnical S!'.: em (Coltrui . e
Co"~tttlmen u, Milano J955).
 Another problem which has to be discussed, is the fact that any building 79 Th e present theory of architectu re is in -
dependcnt of rhe .::>:1.:n1/on of the architectural
belongs to an environment and forms a part of a larger context. Thi s may rcrality. It is also valid when applied to uc_
consist in its relationship to the local topographical conditions (the building banistic units.
site), to the landscape in general, or to other buildings and semi-architectural 80 Usually w e em distinguish between an
external' :Illd :In intern al' spu e. In present.
elements (terraces, freestanding walls, fountains, monuments etc.). But it day n chitccruce the boundaries between these
may also consist in a functional relationship to other objects; in other .paces are oftcn ambiguous nr indefinite. T he
words, the building task it serves forms a part of a more comprehensive last case, however, is :lIso open to exact
analysis.
task. ' T he relationship to the environment' , therefore, above all designates
8\ Th is, however. does not entitle us 10
certain aspects of city-planning." From these suggestions we already under- characterize one .izc :II m"", ' human ' than
stand that it would be inexpedient to introdu ce the relationship to the anot her. The word foot , for inn ance. does
nOI m er to a human propcny as maint:Linffl
environment as a new basic category. Rather it appears as subordinate by Ra,mu,sen (op. cir. , p. 12.{), bur deno mi_
aspects of all the other dimensions. It enters the definition of the building nares a pracr.ie:ll rool for mea'urement!..
task, the technical solution has to be in accordance with the local conditions
(soil, climate etc.), and the formal analysis naturall y has to take the sur-
roundings of the building into consideration. so \Ve may describe a work
of architecture functionally, technically and formally, and the aspects of
the environment have to be distributed under these headings.
The light as an architectural factor also has to be distributed in a 31
corresponding way. T he need for a certain illumination generally forms
a part of the building task, and the geographical conditions will determine
the possibilities for a natural ' illumination. The light is also a formal
factor, through its intensityJ as well as through the distribution of lighter
and darker zones, reflections, transparencies, and sources of illumination.
Finally, we recognize in our time the technics of illumination as a separate
discipline.
Another problem we so far have skipped is the so-called ' scale ' . In
contr ast to ' proportion ' J which designates the interrelations of physical
dimensions, ' scale ' designates the ' real' size. The real size obviously has
to be measured relative to a dimension of comparison, such as the metre
or the human figure. ' Scale ' , therefore, is usually employed to designate
the relationship of the sizes of a building to man himself. As buildings
serve hum an actions, any building task will prescribe a particular scale. 51
Of interest to us is the fact that the architectural form varies with the size.
The properties of a particular formal organization change when it is made
very large or very small, and the organization may dissolve completely if

13
this is carried beyond certain limits. A square room measuring 3 x 3 metres
surrounded by closed walls 2 metres high, may with justification be treated
as a space-cell ' which could be unified with other cells to form a spatial
composition. If we increase the dimensions to 300 x 300 metres, the formal
conditions will be completely different, even if we increase the height of
the walls proportionally. 12 We have to infer that the validity of any formal
system presupposes a particular scale. Empirical insight shows that the
change of the formal properties relative to the size is not continuous (this
would in reality make any order impossible). Instead we find that some
systems have a large: range of validity, others a more limited one. Buildings
normally belong to the same general group. whereas larger lay-outs and
urban units demand a certain revision of the formal principles. IJ
Finally we have to mention that the incorporation of plastic arts, of
ornament and other types of decoration has to be considered both under
the functional and the formal dimension. H For the architectural form,
decoration is of decisive importance. Through decoration a plastic form
can both be accentuated, or on the contrary assigned a mere surface-like
character. 15 T he decoration may also indicate how the form as a whole
should be interpreted. "
We may conclude that a description of the architectu ral totality has
to be carried out by means of three basic dimensions : Building T ask,
Form , and T echnics. Th e classification is not very original. but we hope
in this study to define the categories more precisely than it has been done
previously. " It is also imperative that we investigate the interrelations
between the dimensions. How is it possible to represent a building task
through a formal structure, and how can the form be translated ' into
a technical solution? Th e architectural totality is completely described
when we also have answered these seman tical questions. M Th e semantical
dimension thus covers the changing relations between the pragmatical,
formal, and technical aspects. A typical way of organizing the architectural
totality, we will call an "architectural system ' . Thus we may talk about
' the architectural system of the early Renaissance' , as well as about' Bru-
nelleschi's architectural system' , The word' styl( ' will be used to designate
a characteristic formal organization. It is essential to realize that the
'4
82 Th i, does not ;.n ply th ~t ih~ b<.holder
~ntul our formal dcscriptioo . We only ~>5Ut
th~[ size form' an in~gnring p~rt of the
fw m . T he size i. described in trrms of ~X:l(1
dim~nsions of comparison.
83 Th e extre mely extended centre of Ch~ndi
g:orh as planned by Lc: Corbu,kr, seemingly
stands in contr~5t to ~II lr:Hiitionai priociples
ot city-planning.
3'4 In th~ pan .uc h Ges""" k""srswrke wrr e
normal. Today the integration of the ant is
much dUcuuN, but SO far no convincing
tol ution has been found .
81 Vogt-GOknii (op. cr., pp . 80 fl.) main-
tains th~1 the "aarrcw ' .~ of Romanesquc
2S ~ch.itceturc mult from the heuy man-fonm
of the space houncbries.. She forgets, however,
~l the surfaces of the g cmanesque churches
were painted. in .uch ~ way th~l this inter -
pretation becomes irrelevant .
66 For instance in :!>fichcla.ngd os Cappella
Medici .... hc:r ~ a . enical addi tion of three
zones correspond s to an iconographic di.ision.
(See C. Norberg-Schulz : .l.ficJ,rl""gelo ...'"
""'kitekt, Oslo 1!)5S).
19 11 In principle n cormponds to Vim.viu. '
o:at~gories .. tilittu, tI'<"1lusWs , firmitas.
as Archilecture differs from m.1n y oth er
.ymboJ. ~ by including th e technical mI-
iz.:>Uon as :lD integrating pari of th~ system.
A book may be printed in economical or
luxury editions without changing it. informa -
lion value. But we canno l i.rrnIgine an
"econcrnical edition ' of St. Peter' s, for inst
ancc in cardboard.
 architectural totality is the phenomenon which has to be investigated.
A building is given as a totality, and the architects aim at the creation
of such totalities. It is not correct to see the technical realization as the
19 Thi. totality, how~ver, is oft~n
90 This is probably Whal D . Fr~y m~a nl
d~f~~liv~.

w h~n he slateS that archite cture is kii n ld~r

I
isch galaltet~ R~alitit' (K,,,,st ...us~'ltdJaftlidJl!
'real' result. A rocailie, for instance, cannot be described technically, but Grunilnsgl!lI. Wi~D 1946, p. <;16). Frey gi'fes
the building task (i ff ZWk) a role which
only formally. T he form , as well as the building task and the technical corresponds to the CODIC'Dt (wbj m -mana) of
aspect are abstractions from the work of architecture. which we designate th~ pictorial arts. Th~ definition of F rey is
rakeD over by Cor nell (op. cit. , p. 19).
as an "architectural totality" ;" The totality is a building task realized
91 This corresponds 10 the d istinction be.
t( chnicaJly within a style. 90 tween iconography ' and ' irooology ' in
When investigating the building task we will employ Gregor Paulsson's recent an theory.
distinction between the physical and symbolic aspects of the environment. 92 Th e immed iate experience knows no
dements. And nil! it is ace atomism ' to
This distinction corresponds to our classification in physical and socio-
i nCljhi! in ter ms of el~mcnts. wittgenstein
cultural objects. The buildin g task is investigated by pointi ng out the bas shown that a d~s<:ription has to be carried
objects which may influence the architectur al solution. At the outset we ou t by means of clements and relations. that
is, vom G:gell.ltand her ".
will put forward the hypothesis that there exists a functional relationship
between architecture and all the main classes of the object-world. We
assume that the purpose of architecture not only consists in giving physical
protection, but also in giving a frame for actions and social structures, or in
representing a culture. Our fur ther investigation will show if this holds
true, or if the fun ctional relationship is more limited and exhibits historical
variations. T he dim ension 'building task' tells us which aspects of a way
of life are mirrored in architecture . It is therefore not enough to render
an account of the "contents' of the di mension; we also have to ask why
man at a particular time found it necessary to solve particular tasks."
Thi s question bridg es the gap between architectural analysis and the history
of culture , by askin g for the (changing) role of architecture in history.
Th e investigation of the buildi ng task needs information from psychology,
physiology, sociology and cultural anthropology. In general, this infor m-
ation is given in the second part of the present study.
The analysis of the architectural form is based upon the description of
elements and rekuions:" We have already suggested that the d ements
may be defined as 'space-cells ', mass-forms' and ' bounding surfaces' .
Or the element can be a Gestalt combining such aspects. We have to
investigate in further detail how the elements should be chosen to be
convenient. In part II of the study we have seen that the relations may be
topological or Euclidean. When combining dements and relations we arrive
 at a formal structure, or in short, a form . Frank l has used the terms ' row ' , 93 Th is defin ition contr ast, with the Pla_
tome ide::l tMl the foll:lUl $UU((W"e ailIU at
'group ' , and ' hierarchy' to design ate some types of formal structures. We all ide2l petfection . Th ill 1dea has led to the

will try to carry this classification further. It is also importan t to examine miscollCCplion that pcrfecrion j, whu is ' ;K;l_
do:mic:dly corrt'. Tod:Iy we u ndersu nd .
the problem of the "formal Ievels". The building type , for instance, may however. thar COnectocn rather implies ba..
be considered as one level. A basilica has its particular possibilities as a nality. T he Platonic misconeeption i, oflen
repealed . lor instance by P . A. Micheli,
type, but the type can he combined with the most diffe rent spatial and (' Refinements in Archilture ' , in lou mal 0/
plastic levels. The style also belongs to the formal dimension. We have Au/hel,el ..tid Art Criticism , Vol. XIV. NO. 1,
Sept. 1955) who Slates lhat the work of archi-
already referred to the results of informa tion-theory in saying that the tecmre ill ' but a reflection of a n archetype' ,
norm used as a dimension of comparison for the judgement of the indi- uDder the heading ' The Struggle for Perfec_
tion in An ' .
vidual work, is the mos t probable formal structure possible within the
formal language in quesdon. " We may characterize a style by means of
these probable structures, hut it is always difficult to distinguish between
the most probable and the slightly less probable. It is therefore more con-
venient to let the concept ' style' cover all the elements, relations and
structures which form a meaningful system, with the qualification that
they appear with a varying degree of probability. Thus the terms ' style'
and' formal language' are synonymous. The formation of types is closely
connected with the more probable aspects of the style. The investigation
of types and styles presupposes genetical studies, having the formal deccl-
opmcnt as its subject-matter. We also have to render an account of the
capacity of forms and styles, that is, their ability to receive contents. The
capacity of the forms varies according to their organization and articula-
tion. Finally, the formal investigation leads up to a making precise of
concepts like quality and originality . The formal investigation needs sup-
port from the psychology of perception and from system-theory, We have
seen that Gestalt psychology, and above all, the studies of Piaget furnish
important information. When later applying our theory to a problem like
architectural perception, it is also useful already to possess an appropriate
terminology. As architecture serves man, it seems natural to introduce
psychological concepts rather than abstract mathematics.
The technical dimension is analysed by describing how technical ele-
ments are made from materials and organized into technical systems. The
capacity of such systems has to be investigated, that is, their ability to
realize building tasks. Log-construction, for instance, has a very limited

106
capacity. The problem of style, however, docs not pertain to the technical
dimension. A technical system really aims at perfection, and does not give
information through the employment of more or less probable solutions.
A technical system, therefore, is not a symbol-system, but a means to realize
a symbol-system materially. 94 Architecture reduced to the technical di-
mension is only able to take care of the simplest physical functions.
T he question of the role of technics makes us approach the semantical
aspect. What relations exist between task, form , and technics? Is it true
that 4 form follows function ' , or has Mies van der Rohe introduced a new
and fruitful approach to the problem by inverting this slogan? Is the form
always a mediator between task and technical realization ? Such questions
have to be answered in the chapter on architectural semantics. In describing
the interrelations of thc dimensions, we return to the concepts of ' con-
vention ' and ' structural similarity' . The semantical relations are of central
importance to our theory because the architectural problem par excellence
consists in the co-ordination of forms and tasks. If this aspect is neglected
we will end up with empty forms and unsatisfied needs. " The chapter
on symbolization furnishes the basis for a solution of the semantical
problem. T o facilitate the semantical investigation it is important that the
three main dimensions are described by means of structural properties.
In this way they can easily be correlated.
When the semantical contact between the dimensions has been estab-
lished, we may return to the architectural totality. This consists in replacing
the logically correct description with a perspicuous and relevant description.
The relevant description assigns different degrees of importance to the
different poles, and aims at understanding the work of architecture as an
organism (coherence-system). Hence it indicates the formal aspects which
are connected with relevant pragmatical components, as well as those which
are mere by-products". M T he relevant description thus explains the archi-
tectural inten tion . We will call the complete procedure a structural
analysis' . Th e structural analysis tries to understand the work of art as
a 'small world ' (Sedlmayr), that is, as a concretization. As suggested
above, qualitative concepts may be introduced to cover certain aspects of
the totality. The qualitative concepts designate wholes formed by melting
together several analytical dimensions. Such concepts might also be called
10]
94 It does. however, ilIum-n e the [echnic:l.l
possibilities of the epoch. But mil does not
impl y .I reb oo n bct:wel:n iccbnia and ot""
cbjecrs, As iOOfI .II a tech nical 1011Ition is
understood as Iymbolning . it is imerpreted
10"""ll/y. In modern. non-figur~tive lUinting
technic21 experimems .Ire presenled ~s com_
plete works of art. It may of course happe n
that the resulu are wor ks of art, if the forms
happen tn concretize an intermediar y object.
Whe n it is ~'5Crted lbat we should enjoy non_
figu rative ut as we enjoy nature . that is a.
pu re 1_ . lhis expresses a misconception.
Our cn ;oymcnt of flowers, birds. woods. and
mcuata ics ue deter mined by the meani ngs'
they man ifest. From childhood on we have
determin ed relatio nships to th ese mings. rda-
tionships wh if;h only by exception arc fonn21.
95 This is where modern architecture u.ually
fails. The study of fun ction and technics and
the formal experiments have re sulted in con -
fusion and emptiness because the sernantical
rebunns have been forgotten. Alberti was
conscious of [he problem . and most of th e
great epochs of [he pase ha~ taken it for
granted that ecruin forms have to be ran-vcd
for ec:rrain ta.ks.
96 Th e 'heaven-aspiring' lpac e of Gothic
architecture was hardl y intended.
33
I
'characterizing ' , because they do not belong to the analytical investigation,
but aim at summing up some of the results in a simple formula. In doing
this, however, they do not replace the analysis. As already mentioned,
they have a different purpose. Instead of describing the organization of
the work of architecture, they should have an inciting effect and facilitate
the communication between individuals knowing their meaning. By com-
paring the individual work with the architectural system it belongs to,
we may determine its architectural quality.
In general, the theory not only enables us to carry through structural
analyses, but in itsd f explains architecture as a symbol system.

108
2. The building task

INTRODUCTION

The purpose of architecture is to give order to certain aspects of our

environment. When we say 'give order to our environment' , this implies
that architecture controls or regulates the relations between man and his
environment . It therefore participates in creating a milieu ' , that is, a
meaningful frame for the activities of man. The building task comprises
the aspects of the environment which concern us. We might of course
render an account of these by making a catalogue containing all existing
building tasks, classify the items and analyze the properties of the classes.
This procedure would lead to a general definition. The method, however,
is cumbersome and involves the danger of tying ourselves to the actually
existing building tasks, without seeing important possibilities for a revision
of these. In the preceding. we have suggested that this method should be
supplemented with an investigation of those aspects of the object world
which may be related to architecture. In the following, therefore, we will
use physical, social, and cultural objects as dimensions of comparison. and
by means of historical examples examine their contributions to the building
task. An historical survey shows that the contributions are changing.
Sometimes architecture primarily has symbolized cultural objects, while
the practical ' aspects have dominated on other occasions.
Physically, architecture constitutes one of the most important aspects
of the environment, and if we also take semi-architectural elements into
consideration, such as roads, squares, and gardens, we arrive at a net-
work J of interrelated components which are connected with practically
all human activities. Architecture participates in these activities by forming
a practical frame, an adequate psychological background , and by expressing
that what takes place is of importance to the community. (It may of
course also ' participate ' by forming an unpractical and unfortunate frame.)

1"9
 Originally all these aspects were unified in a general demand for pro- I G. Bandmann: M;IUI~llerl;ch ~ Arc;';
uktur "/$ B~d~Ulu"g'triig~r , Bul in 1951,
tection to secure the survival of the species. The clothes may be considered pp. 133
den ersten Angrifl des Menschen auf die Umwelt ",1 and the first buildings 2 w. Andr~e: op. cit. pp. 36 If .
an extension of the clothing. But the simplest tents and huts already fulfil j E. Baldwin Smith: Egypt;a" Arch;l~ctuu
several practical functions which the clothing does not master. Besides, at Cultural Erpr~$r;o" , New Yor k '938 , p. 17.

they give visual expression to a social structure; while the clothes are pri- 4 AndTlle: op. cit., p. 47. Also il!\I$t ralcd
in Lundberg : op . cit. I, p. 1')4.
vate, the house is normally used by several individuals who live together
~ Smilh : op. cit. , p. 23.
in an ordered way. In the earliest civilizations it was impossible to dis-
tinguish between the practical arid the religious (magical), and the house
must immediately have got a meaning transcending its purely practical
purpose. The door, for instance, had a particular importance as the element
which closes, opens and makes invisible." A Sumerian bride, thus, received
a door as part of her dowry. T he idea of seeing the symbolical as a deriva-
tion of the practical, therefore, is a modern misunderstanding. The need
for protection above all concerned the 'demonic forces' in nature, and
the climate and the changing seasons were attached to magical ideas. J
We have seen that the same attitude may still be studied among primitive
people, and we have given an outline of their object-world which differs
fundamentally from the scientific one. For primitive man, the world
(environment) is full of magical forces.
Th e first pennanent huts in Sumer were built by bending rushes,
witho ut removing the roots from the ground. Th e rushes were tied together
at the top, and the arches formed in this way were connected with hori-
zontal sticks. Th e resulting hut had its roots in the ground , and hence
was unified with the element from which life gets its nourishment. We
still use the expression ' mother earth '. 4 Another primitive means for the 25
control of the environment ', is the fenced enclosure. Here, too, we find
the same characteristic synthesis of practical, social, and cultural functions.
In Egypt, where the rainfall is extremely scarce and outdoor life therefore
of prime importance, the enclosure probably from the beginning formed
a part of the house. ' But magical ideas are spontaneously introduced :
Dcr crste architektonisch folgcnrcichc EingrifI in die von magischen
Gewalten durchwirk te Umwelt war wahl die He raushebung und Ein-
hegung cines Bezirkes, des Tcmenos, der so in cin Sondervcrhaltnis zu
den Machten gebracht wurdc. H icr solltcn sic wohnen oder hier soliten

IIO
sie ferngehalten wcrdcn... Hicrmit wurde die emotional unsicheren Grenzen 6 Bandmann : op. (it., pp. 133 fl .

zwischen Ich und Ausscnwelt gefcstigt. "6 The examples show that the 1 H. So:h mockel: Dill unJ Sum", Stull-
gart 199>. pp . 130 ff.
primitive forms of building resulted from the need for protection, and
& Andrae: op. cir., pp. 6] ff.
that physical as well as social und cultural aspects were unified in th is
9 We might oom pat e: society with a football
need. Physical protection, social stability as a new problem in the first te-am, wher e e:yC"fJ r=mbc:r plaY' his patti.
civilizations, and cultural tradition in the form of primitive religious c:ular role. and hu to adjust himsdf to what
the: ot hers do. It is possible: to play football
conceptions' of life, were united in a magical synthesis (intermediary 011 any hot izontal plain. but th e: pm<: OIl1y
object) which modern man is hardly able to experience. In other words, acquires real me::ltling whc:n a field w ith de
remined measures and properties is used, that
the ' effect' of the first huts was to offe r protection against a capricious i.. an ' at thitC"etur ai frame ' _
and dangerous physical environment, and to offer security by being a 10 Puectionahsrn was concerned with th is
visual expression of the group, and at the same time protecting against a,pe:eI of the: building task.
the hostile and ' collaborating ' with the life-giving forces. ' We may also
recognize a feedback in the fact that the huts reacted on the religious
conceptions. This is expressed in the early assumption that the gods live
in huts (the unknown represented by the known). The first temples,
hence, were imitations of human dwellings. S Th e examples make us grasp
the fundamental importance of building in the early civilizations, and the
enclosure and the hut present themselves as the first expressions of man's
attempts at mastering his environment by changing it accordingly to his
own needs and wishes. Later the building tasks became more diffe rentiated
(specialized), a development which has reached a peak in our own time,
wi thout, however, resulting in a visual order. Th e differentiation above
all consisted in assigning the role of cultural symbolization to certain
buildings (temples, churches, palaces, town-halls etc.), while others re-
mained purd y practical.
In general we may say that architecture controls the environment in
order to make interaction and collaboration possible. " T his control has
several different aspects. T he most elementary is the creation of an 'arti-
ficia l climate', protecting man against rain, wind, cold, heat, moisture,
noise , insects, wild animals, enemies, and other evils in the surroundings.
We will call this aspect' physical control ' . Another aspect of the physical
milieu is the participation of buildings in human actions. This problem
we will study under the heading ; functional frame ' . 10 Th e actions,
however, are socially determined, and the physical objects participating
(e. g. the buildings) therefore manifest social meanings. The buildings form

III
a part of the ' social milieu '. Finally, architecture may represent cultural II G . Pau l,son (Ny slad , pp. 30 ff . and
Tj" g~ns Bru k od. Prag~fJ d"" s not make the
objects like religious, philosophical, or cosmological conceptions. Together nc(:e"ary distinctinn bctw""n >o<ial and cul-
with the social aspect, this ' cultural symbolization ' makes up the symbol. tunl milieu.

milieu. II The building task, thus, will be studied in further detail by 12 Without, however, considering sufficiently
the Auman compon ent .
means of four dimensions of comparison.
U In principle this conespoll<h In a c1 aS1 i
"c arion .accordin g to the senses.

P HYSICAL CONTROL

T he physical control is the better understood aspect of the building task. 12

Acoustics, illumination, heating, and air-conditioning have become highly
developed specialties w here the architect only in part is competent. In the
followi ng we will not enter upon the particular problems of these fields,
but limit ourselves to some general remarks on the role of the physical
control within the building task. It is expedient to take the existing
specialties as a point of departure, because the specialties are functions
of the physiological constitution of man. 13 We thus distinguish between
the control of :
Climate (air, humidity, temperature, wind, rainfall etc.)
Light
Sound
Smell
Things (dust, smoke, insects, animals, persons)
(Radio-activity).
Most of these factors arc 'geographical ' , and we understand that the
physical control above all is concerned with the relations between the
building and its surroundings. T he environment affects the building with
energies .....hich have to be controlled. In principle, this may be extended
also to comprise movements of persons and goods, but we find it con-
venient to include these problems under the heading ' functional frame".
In saying that the physical control consists in relations between the build-
ing and its environment, we anyway imply that it depends upon the human
activities the building should serve. According to the functions of a
building, the needs for heating, illumination etc. change. An architect,
therefore, does not have to study climate (geography) or physiology in
general, but needs only abstract what is directly related to the physical

1I 2
aspects of the building tasks. 14 As the physical control is correlated with
functional factors, and as the functions on their hand are dependent upon
social and cultural factors, we understand that it is an abstraction to study
the physical control as a separate problem.
Firstly we can investigate the ability of the building materials to
insulate against cold, noise, humidity, etc. We also develop mechanical
aids for the creation of ' artificial climates' . 15 In both cases, though, we
are treating ' technical presuppositions' , means which actually belong
under the technical dimension. We may, however, also study the physical
control as an 'exchange of energies' . To permit this, we will introduce
the concepts ' filter ', ' connector ' , 'barrier' and ' switch ' (Filter, V~r
bindung, Spcrre, Schalta). An opaque wall thus serves as a filter to heat
and cold, and as a barrier to light. Doors and windows have the character
of switches, because they can stop or connect at will. In general we define
a ' connector ' as a means to establish a direct physical connection, a ' filter'
as a means to make the connection indirect (controlled), a 'switch' as a
regulating connector, and a ' barrier' as a separating element. All possible
conditions of physical control entering the building task can be analyzed
26
by means of these' fi lter ' concepts. 16 As a result we arrive at a clear
definition of the needs for connecting and separating elements. The
' structural properties ' of the dimension ' physical control ' are thus de-
scribed in terms of elements and relations. The elements are ' energies'
(existing and desired), the relations 'filters ' which transform the existing
energies into the desired ones.
The physical control not only influences the inner organization of a
building and its technical solution (such as the placing of noisy activities
far from rooms where silence is desired, or the placing of rooms not
needing daylight in a dark core), but also its orientation relative to
sunlight and wind. In a hard climate the physical control demands that
the outer walls should be as short as possible, or it prescribes particular
protecting devices (projecting roofs, brise-solcil etc.). T he physical control,
therefore, determines what we call ' regional character ' . 11 This aspect of
architecture has not been closely investigated, and we only insufficiently
take the physical control into consideration in our historical studies. 18 Its
importance is obviously especially great in ' utilitarian ' buildings, and in
H Such an ' applied physiology' i.J alread y
studied in 5eveTai schools.
15 Ventilation . heating, illu mination etc.
16 Th ~ symboh shewn as fig. X) could be
used to carry out a gra phic analysis of th~ phy'
sical control demanded by the bu ildi ng task.
The circles represent the functional zona'
Pa:dal. Th e same d iagram , therefore, is a1..,
mal ro analyu fun ctional relations . Arrows ro
indicate the d irection of the energies may be
introduced. The number of possible combina-
tions depends upon the number of elements.
Wh en analyz ing , the differen t physical di
me nsions have to be introd uced in turn . The
di agram aids the development of standard-
iud, regu lar technical systems, as it fu rnishes
a panem representing the demands fOf" phys-
ical COlltrOI. Existing build ing may also be
.:mal yud by maJ:\'l of the d iagram to deter-
mine the role played by physical control dur-
iog the planning.
11 In contrast to cultural etc. cbauetet .
U For the influellCe of climate on arehi-
tecture sa: E. Egli: Du N~ Sl4tit in !..ImJ-
schll/l u"d Klimll. Ziirich -Erle n~h. For the
problem of physical ro ntrol in city plann ing
see L. Hilberseimer : The New City . Chi-
cago 1944.
primitive architecture where the functions arc barely differentiated (igloo,
wigwam, hut ctc.);" Fortifications which have to resist the assaults of
men and war-machinery are also determined by the need for physical
control'. T he same holds true for the' flexible ' plans of our time, where
the subdivi sion may be varied within a physically controlling frame
(external wall). N Le Corbusier's demand for 'light, air and greenery' ,
finally, expresses the fact that the growing industrial city has given too
little attention to the physical control. 21
F Ul'o"CTIO N AL FR .....ME
As a matter of course. a building is determined by the actions which take
place within its walls. In the present section we will consider the physical
aspects of the actions; a certain number of persons have to do something,
and need a practical architectural frame for their actions. 22 It might seem
impossible to abstract this aspect from the social milieu, but we should
remember that two buildings may very well serve the same practical
purpose, without creating a similar social milieu. It is actually a fact that
the desired milieu has changed continuously through history, while the
functional aspects have remained more constant. Only in our time have
the functions become problematical, as a result of the fundamental changes
in our way of life. 13
The investigation of the role of the functions within the building task,
might start with a classification of all the possible actions which need an
architectural frame. T his method, however, is rather cumbersome. Instead
we will try to define certain basic properties which characterize the actions.
Firstly we can establish the fact that any action needs a certain space.
Sometimes this space has to be accurately measured, as when we play
tennis, other times it may vary within more or less determined limits.
In most cases we can speci fy the minimum measures needed, for instance
to allow a certain number of persons to eat or sleep. " Often it is also
possible to establish maximum measures, because an extension beyond a
certain size would make the connections long and un practical. A kitchen,
thus, should be rather' compact ' to function well. 25 Maximum measures
are also valid in city planning. The centre of a city, for instance, ought
I' See A. H. Brod rick: ' Gr~ ,s ROOll . Hu ts,
Igloos. W igW:lIlH ~ nd oth~r scuercs of the
funcl ion~ l tr~dj [jan' . in .4rcloir...t ,uill R..~j.. w ,
Fe!lfIu ry 19$4 , pp. 101 If .
!\) T1u: concept ' fOlm ' in me: .Io~~ n 'fu ne.
tion follow. form' r.-lieo v~ n da Rohe:) cern-
prises an mific~1 dim ~te.
11 Lc: Coeb usier . L. .1.1lli,o" ... JXIuim . See
also Mum ford : op. cit.
II T he te rm' actio n also rompris.cs activi.
lics where hum an beings a nI)' indirecll y p~r
tkipate.
!J In Ihe: ninetcrnlh eemur )' ,ever~1 new
building t~.l s appc:arrd, wh >ch h:ld [Q find
th eir solution . It has tah n ' OIl-IS'" years to
approach their functional ~'pceu, while: the
svrnbol-mjlicu i. still hh nk.
24 Xeufert"s TI.m Cl1l lV"'fsld".. contains '\Jeh
measures for all possible fUrIctioos.
25 The de ma nd th at a dwelling has to be
f'raetieal is not created by modern Iuncricn -
~1ism . Alberti put forward the id~a long ago
(Y, xr v} , Today , however . we regard the Re
na is!.3nce p:abets ~s h'ghly u npr acI;u l. We
und erstan d thaI 1h~ intcrpr~tation of the ccn -
C~PI 'praclic~I' is ch~nging.
to be planned on the pedestrian scale, and the size of a neighbourhood'
is, amongst other things, determined by the maximum distance between
the homes and the school. 26
The functions not only prescribe the size of the spaces, but generally
26 Sec A. H. Gallion: T he Uri en Pilltun,
New York 1950, p. 2]8 .
27 See for instance Neufert . op. cir., p . 178
(lo th ed. 194:) Ice the IOpologicJI diJKTJm
of a bank.

also their form. A functionally founded building topology, hence, is not ~! As an u<lT"Iplc we may analyze a dwell .
ing with the fun etioM living (L), sleeping (5),
only possible, but highly desirable. Often, however, the form varies inde- hygiene (H), and food-preparation (K). The
pendently of the size. A restaurant for a certain number of persons may filler -symbol. ate introduced wilh the ap-
propriate d irections. A cOfT~ponding d iagum
be circular as well as square, rectangular or irregular. But in any case the could be applied 10 a compide cil)-orgallism.
form must permit the functions of serving and eating to take place in a In principle. me functions an: a n~l l'ud ;as a
group of activities wh ich an: scp.traled or
convenient way. The form thus is often determined by the fact that most
CORRCl:ted .
functions consist in a series of actions which are connected with different
places (locations). T he functional frame has to adapt itself to such action -
com plexes. Already the simplest everyday activities illustrate this problem :
food preparation ~ serving . consumption; sleep - washing . dressing, etc.
On the other hand, we also know actions which need isolation, such as
certain types of study and research.
Functions, thus, are more or less connected with particular places, more
or less complex and more or less isolated (independent). Th is implies that
they do not only ask for a more or less determined space, but also that
a number of 'action-places' have to be interconnected. When we describe
the functional aspect of the building task, these connections are usually
treated first. By means of topological diagrams where the action-places
are represented by circles or rectangles, and the connections as joining
lines, the functional structure may be analyzed." Such a diagram becomes
still more useful it if is combined with the "f il ter t-symbols we introduced
in the section on ph ysical control. Th e directions of the connections are
also important, as the functions form series and ramifications which 26
determine the functional frame. 21
Important problems result from the mutability of the action-structures.
A family, for instance, changes; it is founded, grows, and decreases again
when the children become independent. Previously this was of minor im-
portance to the functional frame, because several generations usually lived
together, creating relatively stable (invariant) functional conditions. T oday
the generations are separated, and the functional needs of the single family
become variable. To solve this problem one has tried to develop ' flexible'
architectural frames, where the number and the sizes of the spaces may !9 O ne of th<.: first attempts to realize ~
fk d ble ~parun<.:nt-building was made by ~liel
be changed at will. Z9 The need for flexibility may also result from the n n der Robe ( IIIm"hof~i((/Iu"g . 1927).
expansions or retrenchments of a firm. Modern office-buildings, therefore, j(J The fulKliOl",l l<.:vd. c~ n ~lj,O be illus-

usually permit a free subdivision of the inner space. In this way new trated gr~phica1ly_ TI><.: row is open ~t both
ends ' . It is im poru nt to c~ me dcm<.:nls
occupants can adapt the functional frame to their particular needs. We conweni<.:nd y_ Build ing , =ighbourhood . dty.
should be careful, though, not to generalize the flexibility idea. Some region . are some of the ekm<':l\u eonsiderM
ar prnenl . Le Corhusin-, on the other hand .
building tasks comprise a need for flexibility, others do not. wann to galher a whole n<.: ighbou rhood in ;I
In general we may say that the functional frame should represent an single buildi ng (U" itf dHabiratio,,).
action-structure by manifesting the spatial, topological, and dynamic char-
acteristics of the functions. To render an account of the functional aspect
of the building task, we have to describe these action-structures. We may
thus talk about ' rows ' (' series"), ' clusters', and ' groups' of actions. In
the first case the actions follow each other in linear succession ; a pre-
cessional road with ' stations' is a characteristic example. Clustered actions,
instead, arc actions which have to take place close to each other without
necessarily having defined interrelations. A shopping-centre may contain
cluster-structures: certain shops should be situated together without, however,
a determined order. The term ' grouped functions' , finally, designates an
organization where the character and position of each d ement is precisely
determined. A dwelling contains such action-structures. T he functional
structure of a building task may be called the functional theme' of the
architectural totality.
T he functional theme can never be studied in isolation. Its functions
will always be related to the functional aspects of the surroundings. From
the smallest utensils to the most encompassing geographical environment,
there exists a functional continuity. T he artifacts serve actions which are
also related to the architectural frame. Such actions may have a cert ain
independence (e. g. the functions of the dwelling), but in other respects
they make up superior systems (such as neighbourhoods) which in their
turn form larger wholes (cities etc.). We will characterize this state of
affairs by talking about 'functional levels' defined by individual properties." 26
The geographical distribution of the buildings of man is due to parti-
cular factors. Paradoxically we may say that the basic problem on the
highest functional level, is the fact that mankind at the same time has
to concentrate and scatter ; scatter to exploit the riches of the earth, and

II6
concentrate to make interaction and ' progress ' possible. Th e distribution II The feedback of the connections on the
objects is one of the Iundamental insights of
of the settlements therefore forms a ' network ' superimposed on the our time.
network-structures of the natural resources. Th e network can be described n See D . Frey: ' Zuschauu und Biihne ' ,
as a system of interrelated objects. Previously the relations were rather in KU"llwisre,,<~haftlich~ Gru" Jjragt ", pp.
151 tf.
unimportant and each unit (settlement) had a high degree of self-supporting
independence. After the industrial revolution the connections became
decisive. New means of communication, the locomotive, the automobile,
the aircraft, the telephone, the radio and the television, have broken down
the isolation of the units. 31 A region today, therefore, is just as much
characterized by the types and capacities of the connections, as by the
composition of the units.
During history the functional factor has played a changing role, and
in the same period we usually find architectural totalities where it domi-
nates as well as others where it has minor weight. T he theatre, for instance,
is a building task where the functional aspect has been of great importance
since antiquity. T he division between the audience and the stage is the
basic point of departure, but a survey of the architectural history of the
theatre shows that this simple functional relationship may be varied in a
number of ways, with different architectural totalities as a result. T he
topological relationship between the two basic functional elements is deci-
sive : the audience may surround (partly or completely) the stage (the 27
classical Greek theatre), or the two may face each other (the Roman theatre),
or the stage is pulled back to become a distant, illusive, pictorial image
(the nineteenth century), or the stage may finally surround the spectators
(twentieth-century experiments, Oskar Strnad)." T his example shows that
the functional analysis is of no avail, if it only describes 'elements ' without
taking their interrelations into consideration.
A reinterpretation of a functional theme, as illustrated in the theatre
example, may be due to a wish to improve the solution on a purely prac-
tical basis, but more often it stems from a change in the very conception
of what is functional. Such a change, again, depends upon social and
cultural factors. When, during our investigation we isolate the (physical)
functions from these factors, we should remember that this division only
reflects the need for a convenient analytical method. Within the archi-
tectural totality the functions are interwoven with higher poles.

"7

l~ _

T aken together, the physical control and the functional frame make
up what Gregor Paulsson calls the 'physical milieu ' . From what has been
said above, we understand that the physical control is an abstraction from
the function, as any action-place needs a particular artificial climate. Many
action-places belonging to the same architectural totality, however, may
3; r s , n alization that the purpose of ar-
chitectu re transcends th e cn:~tion of a physical
milieu, i. not new. Cicero SOl id that the col-
umns of the temple are 1I0t only U$ ful. b UI
~ho ' exalting ' . (m G. Paulsson : D,e Soziale
Dimension de.- K unst, p. 36).
}I Th e f~oce :md the gat~ are to be unde r.

need the same climate, and the "climate-structure", therefore, does not stood :l.\ me~ns to manifot a certain St;lNS.
T he ciry walls of Antiq uity aDd Mediaeval
correspond to the functional structure. The physical milieu also asks for times were 001 determin ed by the need for
two different types of relations : functional connections proper, and con- defence only, but also sym bolized rillitlU, tha t
is. th~ colloctiviry they separated from the
trolling 'filters' . It is therefore natural and convenient to distinguish wild 0.:1.= omside. Th e city wall, therefore.
between the two subordinate dimensions of the physical milieu, and to manifoled justice, security and ord~r . (See
W. Buunfch: Mittd.uurlid e Stadlbllukunsl
study these separately.
in de.- Tosk"1fa. Berlin ' 953. p. 47)
3'l Th e person:d. ""1""css,on of a d welling at
k "-lt has to be hpt within certain limits.
Scen t, MILIEU

We have already mentioned that artifacts and buildings partiCIpate in

social situations. When defining the building task we have to take this
into consideration and render an account of the social factors which should
enter the architectural concretization. It is convenient to take the basic
concepts of sociology as a point of deparrure. T he social purpose of a
building may thus be the expression of a status, a role, a group, a collec-
tivity, or <if' institution; and a collection of buildings may represent the
social system as a whole. It is evident that we here transcend the mere
physical functions. II When the hut of the chief or the palace of the king
was made larger than other buildings, it was to indicate a social status.
When the convents were surrounded by enclosing walls, even in periods
when the need for physical protection was out of date, it was to point
out that we are facing a collectivity of a particular and inaccessible kind. ~ 28
In a democratic society it may not be right to express difference in status,
but it is surely still important to represent different roles and institutions.
Our individual roles should probably not show themselves too much in
the dwellings, as this would contradict the democratic equality of private
persons. 3~ But our places of work should be differentiated to show that
the individual roles participate in varying phenomenal contexts. Th e surgery
of a physician should not only be practical, it must also appear clean and
sanitary. In this way it calms down the patient. The office of a lawyer,

u8
 on the contrary, should soothe the worried client by appearing friendly
and confidence-inspiring, at the same time as it expresses that the lawyer
is an able man. 36 In the history of architecture we also often meet archi-
tectural motives which designate important social institutions. The pedi-
ment originally had such a distinguishing function, until it was devaluated
36 Ruesch and K cc, : op . cit ., p . lOS.
37 Sedlrn ayr V...-/w t ... , p. 75.
3~ Chau clcri, cically eno ugh, it has been ld t
to th e lead ing spokesman of modern archi_
lC(:turc, s. Giffi ion, to put for ward the de _
m and for a new ' monument ality'.

in the nineteenth century by being applied to all kin ds of buildings. Till 39 Ru=:h and Ktt. (op. cie., p. uS) uy
tha t we can UK physical th ing<; to d eterm ine
the appearance of the ' skyscraper' the tower designated the church and who shall meet whom , wh en , w here , ~nd
the town-hall. T oday the need for an architectural characterization ' of the ~rhap. for how long'.

different institutions is urgent , although we may no longer be content with 40 Sa: C. N orberg-Schule. : ' Mulill-hClcnes
m iljO' . in Sr. Hall"wi, 1959. pp. 2&; ft.
such' signs' as colonnades and towers. Instead, we recognize attempts at
representing institutions by means of -showing ' their functional structure.
Th e idea of expressing roles and institutions is relatively new in present-
day architecture. Early functionalism mainly recognized the physical func-
tions, and evaded all attempts at symbolizing higher objects. J7 Therefore
it was unable to master a building task like the church. Early functionalism
shows that an architecture without social and cultural pole-objects is only
possible in a relatively brief period of transition. Ja From a theoretical point
of view it is important to recognize that the social objects are possible
poles in the architectural totality, and that it is necessary to render an
account of their role.
In general we may say that the regulating participation in human
interaction forms a part of the building task. Buildings and cities both
divide and bring together human beings, and 'milieus' fitted for different
public (or private) activities are created. " A milieu is characterized by
its possibilities for social life. 40 T he possibilities for changing activities
and perceptions must satisfy the environmental needs. When we use the
word ' possibilities' , we want to point to the fact that our experience of
the milieu is not only a function of what we actually do, but still more
of what we could do, if we wanted. It is not necessary to go often to
theatres and concerts, but it is important to know that we could go any
time it might please us.
A milieu is always defined relative to particular activities. T he same
milieu does not fit all kinds of interactions. It is not snobbishness and
formalism to dress up for festive occasions, any more than it is an unne-
cessary luxury to adapt the architectural frame to changing life-situations.

"9

1
1 .- _
Th e life-situations are interconnected, and some have a particular impor-
tance as a focus for the changing situations of daily life. Birth and death,
confirmation, graduation, and wedding are such central occasions in
the life of the individual and the family. T he collectivity knows other
' symbolic ' situations; in the past the coronation and the sanctification
were expressions of the common values. ~ l T he milieu, therefore, does not
only consist of different meaningful expressions. but of a hiaarchy of
such. Its single expressions are correlated to particular activities. Often
this correlation is a mere matter of habit, we are accustomed to employ
certain physical objects on particular occasions. But we must also recognize
the fact that a certain physical environment only fits certain activities.
Th e habits, therefore, are rarely accidental. T his is, however. a semantic
problem which will be treated later. At present we will only stress that
any activity has to take place within a psychologically satisfactory frame.
Investigations show that the architectural frame may be favourable or not,
that is, that it influences our attitude;" Hence we could also define the
milieu as the psychological effects of the surroundings. Although any tourist
recognizes that a city, a street or a square can have its characteristic
'atmosphere'. the milieu problem is still hardly taken into consideration
by the architects. H A planned milieu also serves a purpose in human
communication. It creates expectations, guides our thought and our
behaviour, disappoints or satisfies.
We have used the theatre to illustrate the concept ' functional structure'.
What has been said above makes us understand that the reason for the
architectural varieties of the theatre, in spite of relatively constant physical
functions, is that it expresses changing human interactions, that is, the
contact between the stage and the audience may be established in many
different ways. Th e spectator also has a ' role ' in the performance, mainly
assigned him by the architectural frame. In the classical Greek theatre
the spectators see each other across the orchestra , they belong to the
scene. The narrator addresses the audience and thus stresses the fact
[hat the spectators really participate, that the plot takes place h(T( and
now. The actors, the chorus and the audience belong to the same
R( lllitiitssphiire. H In the Roman theatre the high SC{1(na and the pulpitum
[ace the audience. The scene is transformed into a picture (relief). The
11.0
41 T he church.ycar aims at ouni:t;ng the
life situations in :l meanin gf ul p.1IICTn.
42.xe A. H . Maslow and N. L. Mint:t :
Beet' of Enhetic Surroundings ' , in 10'''''111
oj Plyr4ol0ty. Vol. ofl. pp. 1.47 If . and
pp. 459 fl. The aum on start with the state-
men t ; Esmetic.illy ..,ns itive individuals 10-
~her with city planncn. an C'duc:atOn . a nd
related wor kers have long been intu itively
a ware of the dfccu of esthetic surroundings.
Yet as far :os We know there have been no
expc:rimmral stud ies publi.hed on the "fle<:t~
of beautifu l and ugl y "nvironmen u upon
people." II would carry us roo b r to r"nder
a detailed sccc une of the =perimellls. The
rei ulu dearly show that the surrounding s
determine our conduct . T he architectu ral
frame creates a more Or les. positive attitude
to tasks and aClinn. Even our ph ysical state
;j infl uenced. It is decisive lhat the environ-
ment POI"""" a certain otde r . Disorde r
creates negative at tituJe>.
43 Parso ns (op . cit. p. ~43) explicitly in.
dudes the surroundings when he defines .1
social totality.
44 Frey : ' Zuscba=r... pp . I~ fl.
27
 Baroque theatre introduced movable scenes which gave the stage spatial
independence. The' distance' between the stage and the audience reached
its maximum in the nineteenth century when the audience faced a purely
illusional word. From being active participants in an interaction, the
spectators had become passive on-lookers, an intended relationship de-
termined by the architectural frame.
While the creation of a relevant milieu still plays a subordinate role
in the design of single buildings, 4~ it has gained a certain importance in
city-planning. As a reaction against the chaos of lonely individuals
i{i
in the modern metropolis, we have the demand for ' neighbourhoods'
where the inhabitants know each other and can participate in positive
interactions. Only in this way can the ' we-feeling ' develcp. " Problems
45 As only cert.:l;n functional aspects of the
arc take n into oomidcrJ-lion , il ha.
t.. ..I;.
become normal co give churches. auditoriu ms,
theaU"es and (Onettlhall> the shape of a cine-
ma . It i. forgotlen that thew: rooms have 10
frame vy differenr interactions.
46 See I . T yrwhill . J. L. Sen, E. N . Rage.. :
T he H r<lTt of JI.r Cily. London ' 951; also G.
Paul, son : The Sm dy oj Cilin . KOhenhnn
' 959-
~1 T. Paulsscn in Ny Slod, pp. 176 If.
48 G. Paulsson : The Study of Cirin, p. 7G .
49 It is today generally .recognized that the
urhan m ilieu is d epend enr upon zon es r e-
>eTved for the pedestrian .

of this kind have created the so-called social geography which aims at
defining the 'human contents' of the environment. 4~ Instead of run ning
away from the big city, we should make it inhabitable and inspiring.
In the past the cities were cinlization itself, the native soil of thought .
art, and crafts. The individual could draw from the experiences of
others, and in spite of feudalism and political bondage social life was
in many ways richer than in the present confusion. Wh ile this confusion
is mechanized and passivating, the cities of the past show that human
intercourse has a stimulating effec t, and must be considered the main
prerequisite for the cultural development. 49 A culture is characterized
by the common institutions which result from human interaction. When 25
man in early times made an enclosure, he defined a domain diO~r~n t 28
from the free nature, a domain giving visual expression to the community.
Gradually domains of different character were developed, according to
the purpose they had to serve, and when a roof was put on they became
buildings. One particular domain was always of prime importance, the
public square, where life could unfold in all its variety. The Greek agOTa
originally was a meeting-place, and only later became connected with
commercial activities. The public buildings were joined to the agora but
usually they did not open directly onto it, as if to express that the square
should be reserved for the citizens. The Greeks distinguished three ' quali- 29
tatively' different zones in their cities: the acropolis of the gods, the
agora of social life, and the enclosed houses of private life. Thus the

1 _
I

Greek city had a meaningful architectural form, which corresponded to so G . Paulsson: T"~ Sr1ldy of Cirin , pp.
~I , 90
the: social structure. T he milieu offered the necessary possibilities, and
51 Alberti describes the ic.b in book IV, I.
formed a par t of the cultural totality. 50
5~ Th~ ( ullUu I . ymbo liz.:>l iun a. such is
T he idea of differentiati ng the environment according to th e social IIOt .uffi(i ~n[ to giv~ archilec:[U~ <falU, a.
structu re has (unconsciously) determined most of the urban organisms of OQc of the art. It i. :.I"" d~~; , iw. how the
.pnboliu lion is OOnt".
the past, and also the individual buildings. 51 We have reasons to believe
5J Par ""n!: op. ca.. p. II.
that the problem will again come to the fore. So far , one has been content
with attempts at making functional architecture more ' expressive ' 'with-
out, however, stressing th e need for an adequate (relevant) expression.
T o solve this problem, it is necessary that the architects incorporate psycho-
logical and sociological information in the definition of the building task.
T he social structu re has to find its counterpart in a hierarchy of <milieu-
characters ' .

C ULTURAL SYMBOLI ZATIO N

Arc hitectu re itself is a cultural object. It is a hu man prod uct serving

com mon hum an activities. T his state of affairs, wh ich will be discussed
in further detail under the headi ng <The architectura l totality ' , should
not be confounded with the relation ship between ar chitecture and other
cult ural objects. We have already asserted th at art ' expresses ' values,
while science describes facts, and that art is one of ou r means of corn-
municating values to make then become common. In other words, art
symbolizes cultural objects. If architecture is an art , it has to fulfil
this criterion. S~ T hat architecture may symbolize cultural objects is an
empirical fact, since architectu ral history shows that th is aspect h2S gene-
rally formed an important part of the building task. Why archi tecture
is used in this way, however , is a question which so far has hardly been
studied.
As the social structure is based upon common values and symbol-
systems, ~J it is evident tha t the cultu ral symbolization is closely related
to the formation of the social m ilieu. In the symbol-mi lieu, which
comprises both aspects, the social m ilieu mediates cultural objects such
as common values, empi rical (scient ific) construct s, ph ilosophical ideas,
moral codes, religious beliefs, ideological convinctions, and econom ical

122
conditions. The objects are manifested through social roles, groups and 54 Brunelle S(hi devdopcr.l thc gcomctrizaricn
which chau Clcri:u:s the forma! bngu~ge of
institutions, and by the physical objects serving social life. We find it the Renaissance. In this way tht idea of the
convenient, however, to distingu ish between the two aspects of the symbol- geometrical order of the uni verse was sym-
bolized . The :u:h icvcmcot of Hrunellt$Chi.
milieu, as the cultural symbolization may also take place jndcpcn d~n tly therefore, implies a concretization of a new
of the formatio n of a social milieu. A culture is also characterized by complex of cu lruu l objU.
being transmitted in spite of the existing social situation. Thus we are 55 G. Sandmann : ' Il:onologie der Arch i.
te:l:rur ' , in }tlh, /ouc}, fUr Au thetik Ufla allge-
still able to "u nderstand' Michelangelo or Beethoven. The discussion of mn"" K" fln ",issefllch" f/ , 1951, p. 74.
the symbol-milieu also becomes clearer if we avoid mixing social and 56 See H. P. L'Or mge : F, ,, I'riflaf'l1t til
cultural objects in a diffuse way. It is important to distinguish between DomiJ1llt, 0$10 1958, pp. 34 ff .
interaction and value, even if they often appear as as{>C'ts of the same
state of affairs. Wh ile the social objects and the social milieu always
man ifest the cultural objects on which they are founded, the latter have
a certain degree of independence.
An example may illustrate: this fact. When Brunelleschi built S. Lo- 16
renzo in Florence around 1420 , he broke with the current Gothic style
and realized the first Renaissance church. He did not therefore create
a new social milieu; rather he symbolized new cultural objects. T he break
could of course have been made in such a way that it influenced the
social milieu. This would have happened if his solution had not been
acceptable as a 'stage' for the ritual. The existing social milieu thus
demanded that the church building should symbolize certain cultural
values (religious objects) which could not be touched by the ' experiment-
ing ' architect. But Brunelleschi was allowed to 'illuminate ' these in a
new way, that is. to place them in a new phenomenal context. Sol
We may conclude that an y social milieu indir ectly symbolizes cultural
objects, while the cultural symbolization can also take place directly by
letting particular architectural forms designate particular cultural objects.
The two possibilities may also be combined. 55
T he most characteristic case of indirect symbolization is represented
by roles and institutions which explicitly manifest a higher object. The
King and the Emperor thus have generally symbolized something more
[han a soci al status. Th e Roman Empero rs claimed to be divine, and
their portraits gradually developed into a fixed "divine type '. 56 T he
Imperial palace also manifested the divine order represented by the
Emperor, it became a palatium sacrum where every part was related to
symbolic ceremonies. 57 In the palace of Diocletian at Split we are led 30
from the atrium under a 'glorification-pediment' into a domical vestibule.
Th e pediment before had been a distinguishing motive, ~8 and the domical
vestibule combined the traditional importance of the entrance with the
heavenly symbolism of the dome. In the Roman Pantheon we meet a
related. but direct symbolism freed from the connection with roles and
ceremonies. Th e interior of the Pantheon is divied vertically into three
zones. Th e lower zone has seven niches which probably received the 3 1
gods of the heavens, Sol and Luna, and the five planets; the middle zone
showed the twelve signs of the zodiac, and finally the heavenly dome
embraces the whole space. In this way the Pantheon represented the cosmic
order; it resembles Heaven, says Dio Cassius." Th e Christian church
took over much of the Roman symbolism, and developed a comprehensive
direct symbolization of religious objects. " T he paleo-Christian basilica
represents the Heavenly Jerusalem in the form of the city of antiquity.
The facade is the city gate. the nave and the transept are the main streets
(dccumanuJ-cardo), and the apse with the throne of Chr ist (the altar) 32
is the imperial aula. 61 In the Gothic cathedral the symbolism reached a
climax. While the early Christian basilica took the urban character of
the heavenly city as its point of departure , the cathedral stressed the
hcal'cnly aspect. 61 T he cathedral WaJ the heavens for contemporary man ; 33
upon entering it one entered heaven. " T he large sun-window over the
entrance is dark when seen from the outside, but starts to radiate heavenly
light when one enters the church." Th e large ' baldachines' which form
the interior space undoubtedly symbolize the heavens, and the glittering
stained-glass windows are like luminous walls of precious stones corre-
sponding to the descriptions of heaven in contemporary literature. In
the mediaeval times popular belief considered precious stones luminous, 6~
Th e architecture of the Renaissance is also based upon symbolical ideas.
Alberti, thus, gave his great church in Mantua, S. Andrea, a facade where
the motive of the triumphal arch expressed the role of the church as
Porta Coeli:" In the works of Michelangelo we encounter a 'world- 17
architecture' where three zones in vertical succession symbolize respectively
the inharmonious earthly existence of man, the cool peace of the intellect,
and the heavenly perfection of the soul. 67
51 E. B~ld wi n Smith: Archi/u /u,,,l Sym
holism of lmpmal Rom~ and /h ~ MiJdl~
Agu, Princeton 1956, p. '18 .
~3 ' It wa, only afl,", the solemo delibera-
tion of the Seoa!e that Ca"ar was granted
the honour of having a gabln! roof (jtlStig;.. m )
on hi. dwelling. ' (Smith: op. cil. , p. 5)'
~g H. P. L'Orange : Rom ff sk Idyll, Oslo
199. p. 69
60 Dyggve hu shown that the form of the
patw-Christi:ln chom;h stemo from the Aub
of the Imperial palace. T he alta r in the apse
substitute. the thro ne of the Emperor . (5
E. D)'ggvc: Aula 54n"ta _ Aula Sa"'-", Ko.
benhavn 1959).
61 H . Sn!lma)'r : Archi"'kou lIlr .rbbiIJcnJc
K..mt, Wien 1945, pp. 5 fl. Wh en church.,.
arc COI1<ec:latro, me hymn ' L""tbs bjer usalem
oocle<ris, dicta. ~ vi.o io ' if su ng .
6Z ScdIm.:.}T: cp . cit. , p. II.
&} Sed1marr: Die Entstd"'nz , pp. 97.
13J
'" Sedlmayr : Die Enw eh" "g.... pp. 1 fi .
The tam ' rose-window' is misleading, .as the
round window undoubtedly symbolizes the
sun. Th e sun was considered a manife~ta.tion
of Chriu or bi~ Glory.
" Scd l m a~r : Die Enmd,,"' C... . p. 136.
66 Norbag-s<:hulz: ' Lc ulOme iet enzi cn i
d i Alhel-ti'.
6; Nc rberg-Schula : Miche/llngd o. .. , p. 58.
19
 ~M T he following exposition is b~_,N1 upon
Th e preceding examples are connected with rather particular cultural
G. Di( miuclmeeritcs en
K ~~ch n i tz:-Wci nbcrg:
objects. Architectural history, however, tells us about more simple or Grtlndla~n d( r anrik(n Kunst , Fuokfurt /M

'primitive ' symbolizations. From the oldest times the symbolism was 19H
connected with the fundamental stations of human life: birth, procreation, (,'I P~rticularly characreriseic are the meg~_

lithic' tempI... ' on M~ lt~ . Sec C. Ceschi:

and death . Primitive man has to master the forces which express them- Archi/m"ra d(i k m pli m(g:1/itiri di Mal/a .
selves in these phenomena, just as he has to master the weather, the Roma 19J9.
seasons and nature. Demonic forces are conquered by giving them a
dwelling, by giving them, so to speak, the body they lack. In this way
they are fixed to a place and may be influenced by man. In the Medi-
terranean region the procreative forces played the most important role. M
During the Megalithic period the symbolism took the cult of the ancestors
as its point of departure. The souls of the ancestors arc active, but they
should not roam freely around. The stone offers them a suitable dwelling
because its hard ness and weight express pcnnancncc and imperishability.
The stone thus became a manifestation of the procreative force of the
ancestors, an expression of the continuity of the generations. Especially
the erect stone, the men hir, was understood as the abode of the vital
power, as a representation of the phallus. The erect stone also symbolized
..
35

power because it takes energy to set it up. Words like ' straight ' and
. erect ' stilI give related associations. The column stems from this sym~
holism, and in Nordic architecture the wooden post had an analogous
meaning. In G reek architecture the column could be substituted by the
human figure. The massive wall also symbolizes power, and this import
is stressed by working our lines which express the force of gravity. In this
way the co-ord inates of verticals and horizontals come into existence,
the distinction between active and passive parts. T his abstract order thus
stems from an original diffuse experience of weight and might iness.
Another early symbol is the cave, which extends into the motherly earth
from which all life arises. The goddess of the earth was honoured in
[he caves, and also her son or 'fruit '. The cave represents the first spatial
d ement, in contrast to the vertical-horizontal relation which is an order-
ing principle. Th e unification of these two factors created what we may
cal] ' the first architectural symbol-system ' . As the first step in this de-
vclopment, the cave was tectanized, 69 then the space was liberated from 36
the earth, and 'artificial caves ' were created (dolm(n). Later the menhir 3.
125
 was placed in the cave, symbolizing H ieros Camos, the sacred wedding. 70 35 ;0 The E tru",,~n, ru t ' mall hous<,., over the
graves of the women and columns over those
Th e symbolism gradually became transformed, but it is still perceptible of the men.
in the cosmic cave' of the Pantheon. 71 Scdlm~ }'r, Vu lt/fl . . . p. 9'"'.
Th e changing definitions of the roles of the actors and the audience 7l Th e ch urch " f I.e Cur .. ier in Ronclu mr
in the theatre also have a symbolizing function. In the Greek theatre 27 npre", th i, tendency. Lc Curbusier, how-
eYer, wives the task on a purely p>yehological
the actor appears as a plastic figure, as an individual. In the Roman basi.. wanting to ere~te the right atnt.n
theatre the scene has become a relief', and the actor represents a different sphere ' for pr:l}'er. He docs not symbolize
the cultural (religious) object. r<'prc", nted by
conception of man. Today again we tr y to interconnect the stage and the the church.
audience. But now the sputators are no longer surrounding the small
ordered world they have created, as in the Greek theatre; instead they
are surrounded by the world on all sides (the ring-stage). Th ey are not
intending an illusion as in the Baroque theatre, but are placed in the
middle of the incessant self-changing energies of the phenomenal world.
In the nineteenth century architecture turned away from cultural
symbolization. T he meaningful forms of the past were devaluated, dome 2
and pediment were used to dignify ' museums, banks and other insti-
tutions, and the stained-glass window was introduced in the private dwell-
ing. " Only recently the demand for cultural symbolization has again
come to life, because we understand that modern architecture needs this 3.
dimension to create a meaningful environment. 72 T he cultural objects
of our time of course differ from those described above, and although
some may exhibit a certain invariance (such as some religious objects),
these also participate in the formation of new intermediary objects.
One may ask if it is nrccssary that architecture should directly
symbolize cultural objects. As a human product of a pronounced practical
character, architecture has a particular ability to show how our values,
how our cultural traditions determine our daily life. Only through cultural
symbolization can architecture show that the daily life has a meaning
which transcends the immediate situation, that it forms a part of a cultural
and historical continuity. Th e other arts are not able to fulfil this task in
the same way, because they do not so directly participate in our daily
existence. This is probably the reason why architecture is considered the
mother of the arts'. When integrated with architecture as a meaningful
whole (Gt samtkunstwrrk ), the pictorial arts, and even music and drama,
become directly connected with life. Thi s implies that any picture does

[ 26
 73 SCi: II. Sedlm eyr : Vull"t ... , p. 8~ .
not fit everywhere. The detached easel-painting which is hung on the
7~ The psychology of peruption shows that
wall usually lacks a meaningful connection with its environment and
form, are never experienced as purc Icrms,
rather signifies a dubious escape into illusion. "! hut ~Iw~ys a~ symbolizing.
As a conclusion we have to request that at least some building tasks i5 The city_planning in 0.10 after the sec-
incorporate the dimension of cultural symbolization. The cultural in- ond world WH is a characteristic example.

termediary objects which primarily have to be concretized may be called ;6 Wc hnc . ..scrrcd, bowever , thaI the
praclieal and symbolical aspects of modern
'cultural themes'. Only in this way can architecture defend its status arehitecture are mixed to form ~ diffuse
as one of the arts. When architects and clients, or architects among whole.
themselves) disagree, it is rarely because of practical problems. Instead
they quarrel over diffusely experienced symbolical values, usually masked
as 'aesthetic problems' . 74 We also notice that functionally inferior solutions
are often chosen to escape new and dangerous' symbolical forms, which
might menace the safe habits of man. 7'5 We therefore need a better
understanding of the cultural symbolization and its role within the build-
ing task. It is not enough to render an account of the ' meanings' of the
forms; we also have to understand why certain meanings are preferred
at certain times. Architecture has to serve the desired meanings, but it
also reacts to these. In concretizing the meanings it furn ishes a point of
departur e for further cultural development.

T HE BUILDISG TASK AS A WHOLE

The preceding sections have suggested that most building tasks comprise
all the four dimensions We have introdu ced. The physical control is
interconnected with particular functions, and the functions on their hand
are determined by social conditions which presuppose the existence of
cultural objects. The four dimensions not only allow us to render an
account of the functions, interactions and values which make up the
building task, but they also make a comparison and classification of the
building tasks possible. Architectural history thus shows us that the build-
ing tasks have usually fallen into two characteristic classes : tasks of a
mainly practical character, and tasks where the higher objects play a
more decisive role. 76
The differentiation of the building tasks becomes always more necessary
as the complexity of the civilization increases. While a relatively restricted
number of well-defined tasks were sufficient in the past, we experience 77 T he i ndi. id u~ 1 inlcrc,t> "r the layman arc
,,[tcn in conflict with thi, common go~1. T he
today a growing multitude of tasks, which so far have brought forth a ruling taste implie, a narrow .imp lilication
chaotic situation. But also today we may with justification talk about of the problem. and therefore hinders the
reali1.~lion of a common order .
forms of life, that is, about an order which can be represented in terms
7~ Scd lmayr : Verlu,t ... , pp. ' 5 If . ' Fiihr-
of architecture. Society has become so complicated that an expression of cod c Bau auf gabcn .
its structure is imperative. Still we may distinguish between tasks where 79 Morocco has attracted many. but >0 have
the practical and symbolical aspects dominate respectively. The archi- the farms and fishing villagn of Southcrn
Europe.
tectural realization, however, requires a better understanding of the single
tasks and of their interrelations. It is of decisive importance to realize
that the tasks make up a hierarchy or ' universe', where the individual
task forms a part of a more comprehensive task. Th e building tasks, thus,
arc brought together on the higher planning level called urbanism. Th e
comprehensive task requires that the subordinate tasks should be defined
in particular ways. Jf they are not, we will not arrive at a meaningful
...taliry, such as that represented by the cities of the past." The totality
consists of different but interrelated tasks. Any level of planning , therefore,
may be described as consisting of elements and relations which form
pragmatic structures.
In the past certain building tasks were 'l~ading ' , because they aimed
at expressing the common cultural objects on which the form of life
in question was founded. Th e church and the palace (castle) played this
role through centuries. In the nineteenth century new leading tasks
appeared. Interest was directed in turn towards the landscape-garden. the
monument, the museum, the theatre, the exhibition, and the factory. 78
Every leading task expressed a different cultural orientation, orientations
which, however, had a short life, until it ended with the functionalistic
~q ualjty of all tasks on a purely practical basis. But still architecture
serves the most different human activities, including problems of milieu
and symbolization. Today we have reason to maintain that some tasks
demand a more pronounced architectural articulation than others, and
that the solution should be more or less ' neutral ' J according to the task.
It is not possible to satisfy all tasks by a rearrangement of the same
cliches, be they classica l or ' modern '. As a rule our time is very sceptical
towards formal cliches in general, and many architects have found inspira- 98
rion in ' primitive' or 'anonymous' architecture; " Th is interest has two
 reasons. First ly one admires pnmltlve architectur e because we ourselves M Giedion: Arch il~kwr ,,,,d G~t>1~;IJJc"afl .

have lost the ability spontaneously to find the adequate expression for
Sl Morris: Vari~ti~s of Human V"lu~, p. 83.
a building task. Secondl y we want to be democratic and maintain that
the simplest hut is just as importa nt as the cathedral. If we assert that
architectur e has to participate in a symbol-milieu, however, we have to
reject the one-sided worship of primitive architecture. Without negating
its positive qualities, we have to recognize: that it stems from social
conditions completely different from our own.
What has been said above implies that society puts forward tasks
which are not only added to each other, but which form struc tures where
some tasks' dominate ' the othe rs. T he architect has to adjust himself to
this state of affairs by employing more or less neutral forms, and by
introd ucing themes' which represent particular tasks. Also in our time
the task s which directly serve the community have to be leading. W e do
not primarily think of the places of work but of the buildings which
serve the social life. This demand is not arbitrary, bur follows from
contemporary sociological insight. Today social life lacks coherence
and meaning. " We should therefore remember that architecture not
only forms a frame around existing activities, but that the frame may
create new activities, that architecture reacts on society and may help in
creating a richer fellowship. One migh t question the criter ia we have
for defining the needs of the society. We have, of course, to consult
sociology to understand the shortcomings and to be able to define the
measures which may produce an improvement. Morris, for instance,
shows that the inhabitant s of large cities are more passit ,~ than those
living in villages and small towns. ~ I If we want to fight passivity, we
should therefore have to give the large cities a different structure, and
we should make use of experiences from the smaller urbanistic units for
this purpose. T he recognition that certain urbanistic characte ristics have
an activating effect has led to the idea of splitting the large city into
, neighbourhoods".
In our time the verbal aspect of hum an comm unication has come to
dominate in such a way that we tend to forget that we have other means
at our disposal. T he solution of any complex problem is attempted through
conferences and discussions, while the physical planning which should

1 --:
react on the psychological and sociological situation, is unsatisfactory and 8:: Ruesch &. K~, : op. cit. , p. !J6.
fragmentary. The neglecting of the non-verbal dimension has made us
so blunt that we accept any work of architecture if it functions in a
tolerable way. even when a more careful analysis would show that it
only satisfies the most banal needs. This vulgar-functionalism ' even
enters when architectural competitions have to be decided. The situation
is very unfortunate as architecture increasingly dominates our physical
environment and influences us more constantly than any verbal symbol-
system. Language belongs to the means of communication we may switch
on and off at need, while architecture forms a part of the permanent
milieu in which our activities take place. U Feeling this fundamental
social and cultural importance of architecture without being able to realize
meaningful solutions, one has today seen the reduction of architecture
to a lower status as the only way out.
Only by means of a full understanding of the tasks may we find the
means relevant to their solution. It is more important for the result to
put correct questions than to give correct answers to wrong questions.

13
 have to talk about -space-boundary ' (Rattmgr~nu), ' mass-boundary '
(MasJ~ngun u) , and in general ' bound ing surfaces' ( Gr~n zflikh ~71) . The
word 'mass' denotes any tri-dimensional body, while the word ' space '
denotes a volume defined by the bounding surfaces of the surrounding
masses. In both cases We have to do with measurable physical entities.
As an architectural ' mass-dement ' we denomi nate a body which is
separated from its environment in such a way that its extension can be
described by means of a Euclidean co-ordinate system. ' The first quali-
fication of a mass, hence, is topological concentration. A mountain is a
mass in this sense of the word, as well as any block of stone. As a criterion
, The Egy ~u n pyr3mid nnn plifin 3 pu~
m:oufonn.
7 Th<: lJUu- fornu pounsing '" prOOOUlKaJ
tiguu-ch",u cter h",", been ll...dilioMlly IlKd
to repr= nl pUClculu wocld. . The han i-
'ph~ . the " lInder 300 reb lM bodin (On
poIygon"'l pbns, are very common in uerM
architecture. Th e round lowers of mc:dixv",l
c",, 116 empll",. ize Ihe imprcgn",ble ch",rxtt!
of the buildin g. Whik '" pyr3miJ31 (Or that -
38 ched roof Junsn the conttn u",lion of the
m",... the fbi roof pr'=vn the aohpublc
39
J""f31k1epiped. In our time the R.al roof is
nn~ '0 fxilicole the co-<lII"ditl>llioro 01 the

for the concentrat ion of a mass (its figure-character "), we will take its rrYss.-demems _

ability to join other masses. We have seen that the straight line stems
from the operation' to aim ' . A straight line and a plane surface, therefore,
define directions which point outside their origin. The closed curve,
instead, returns to its starting point. T he sphere, hence, has a maximum
of concentration, while the upright cylinder may be extended Gained to
other masses) in one direction, and the lying cylinder in two. A cone
standing on its base comes dose to the sphere in concentration, while
the pyramid because of its plane bounding surfaces, is more easily joined
to other bodies. A mass which is defined in a purely topological way
by accidental curves may in prin ciple be adapted to adjacent bodies by
changi ng the contour. The figure-character (Gestalt quality) is therefore
in general stressed through g~om~lrizalion . with the sphere as the most
forbidding and the parallelepiped as the most inviting of the elementary
stereometrical forms. ' The figure-character of a mass-d ement also depends 39
upon the constancy phenomena. A sphere is recognized regardless of
our angle of vision, while more irregular masses lose their character
whcn seen from certain view-points. Symmetry stresses the concentrated, 40
in itself resting and complete form.
For the concentration of mass-clements defined by adjoining surfaces
it is of decisive importance that the corners should be inta ct. If two
adjoining surfaces are treated in a similar way. the mass-boundary forms 41
a continuity in spite of the corner and stresses the concentration of the
mass. If, on the contrary, [he surfaces are treated differently, the con-
tinu ity disappears and the concentration is weakened. Th e same happens

134
 if the corner is broken through or made unclear. .' A round corner, instead, 42 . ~ In moder n ~ rch ;tec!Ure lhe m.l>~; v i t y il
weakened by ~ vo;d ing closed corners. !olio
stresses the concentra tion. T he treatment of the corners, therefore, often VJn d er Rohe rarely uses tbe same mat erial in
determines our interpretat ion of the mass-form, and tells us if the building AdjOi ning surfKC1 . The m<ll.S is instead made
up of indi yichcl pb=s (II" sbbs. Oflen the
is intended as a massive block or as a juxtaposition of thin bounding . urfxes ale tnn<F,ent.
surfaces. Openings in the bounding surfaces play a similar role. If they , Thi. h<l~ in the Gothic: c<lllwdrali.
have niche-character they stress the massivity: if instead a pane of glass 10 For in<uncr the rustic.>Oon of Ren~i l
is Rush with the outer edge of the opening, the surface-character is 43 l.I~ <lnd flv'ocjuc ~r dl it""""tl1re. Cen:~ in tyP"
.,f ru~ie.u)OO. howc;- a . crn ph....i u the indiri
maintained. The latter effec t is furth er accentuated when the window dua l 1lOOn.
is subdivided by mullions, bars, or cames. If the corners indicate that II Few ronn:nirno::e ..." employ the ward s
the mass-form is made up of thin adjoining surfaces, while the openings 'lopoIo~' 14 dMign.>tc the purdy I4po1ogial
propntin. and pml."try ' 10 cks igru.tt the
suggest a massive block, we may characterize the mass-clement as contra-
projccu~ .. EOOidcan <llpccu.
dictory. The size of the openings is also of decisive importa nce to the
I! The Miilkr-Lyer p:ntcm ncm plilks a
characterization of the mass. If they arc increased beyond certain limits, 50 Gcsull where the m~dt=ria1 Icb tions m~1
the mass \\;11 be tran sformed into a skeleton.' Relatively small openings be changed (wi mi n c:crUin lim it!) ....ithout
dcwoying the Gesult quality.
(' holes"), instead, stress the massivity.
Illumination, colour, and texture arc other important means to the
definition of the mass-clements. Whi le one texture, such as a polished
and rcficcring surface, can make the mass dissolve, another may stress
its concentra tion. 10 T hrough an appropriate usc of colour a mass-clement
may be separated visually from its surroundings. The light finally,
;. models' the shapes. A round column, for instance. gets a unifonnly
increasi ng shadow which stresses its closed form. In Gothic architecture a
small vertical profile appears, a shadow-line ' which creates a sudden leap
between light and shadow and tran sforms the mass into an abstract line.
The treatment of corners and bounding surfaces is only important
to the mass-clement itself. and to its relations to its immediate surround-
ings. In a larger context. such as a build ing in the landscape, the main
form alone is decisive, with the treatment of the roof as a prime factor.
Summing up, we may say that the mass..element is characterized by
its topological-geometrical form. I I Rather than considering the numerical
relations one might discover on measuring a mass, we maintain that the
pregnant Gestalt is decisive. Thus we distinguish between a semi-sphere and
a cube etc. II It is essential that the form should be pn:gnan t. Psychological
experiment s show that we tend to overlook or stress irregularities. A devi-
ation from the symmetrical or regular form has to be distinct to bc

135
 1.1 Wu lf: ' Tend end e1 in Jigur3l Variation ',
formally active. I) The character of an dement is hence determined by
in Ellis: op. cit.
its degree of concentration, or by its ability to join other dements. Th e
14 For instance the isolation of English ea-
topological isolation is of course also decisive for its Independence." An 6 thcd r31, in 3 elooc .
element appears as an independent figure if it stands out against a con- 28 IS Th e Rom3n P3mheon it 3 hemisphere
tinous, undisturbed ground. We have also seen that the treatment of the fe1ling on 3 cylinder of equa l height. A Cum'
pletC sphere thus m3Y be inscribed iD the
bounding surfaces determines the character of the mass-element. (The spaee.
bounding surfaces are understood as subordinate dements which are 16 Dur ing the Ren3isunce 3nd 3g3iD in th e
interrelated and form superior mass-elements.) nineteenth century, squn e Of rectangular
rooms were centralized by ma.ns of .I ro~I1C
A space-element comes into existence when the intervals (intermediate or decoration in the eeaee of the ceiling,
spaces) acquire figure-character. A space-element may also be defined in aed 3 CWnKc mnDillg around [he room. In
this W3)' the rooms were dl UKtCTized u
terms of topological closure, and much of what has been said above also indi ..iduah.
pertains to the space-element. While we characterize a mass as more 17 The cumpks shown II Fig. 47 weTC

or less concentrated. we say that a space is more: or less closed. Evidently, de ..dopctl at the SuIC Am .100 en!1I School
in 0.10 under the dlf"eCtioll of the author
the interior of a sphere has a maximum of closure. This form, however, (Sec School Yearbook I~-.).
has only few possibilities for finding application in architecture, and we It The dncripcion of fbe space-form de-

should rather consider the hemisphere as the architectural space which pmds upoa the interpr'ft.lDcm of the boun
31 d.arics.
has the highest degree of closure. IS A circular space has no directions 67
and rests in itself'. Centralization therefore stresses the isolated figure-
4S
character of a space. 16 Square and rectangular spaces more: easily join
together. and a space with 'free' topological boundaries may in principle
be adapted to any situation. The closure also depends upon a similar
treatment of the walls, and upon their being joined together in the corners
to form a continuous, embracing boundary. Apertures at the corners there-
fore open the space more than holes placed in (the middle of) the wall,
especially if the former extend from the Roor to the ceiling. 17 Continuous
horizontal openings directly under the ceili ng have an analogous effect.
The corners may be characterized as the 'critical ' zones of the space.
and their treatment is essential to the interpretation. The closure of a
space may also be emphasized or loosened through the use of light, colour,
and texture in relation to the bounding surfaces. Th e space-element is
therefore, like the mass-element, determined by its topological-geome-
trical form, by the placing of the openings and by the treatment of the 48
boundaries. l ~ If the subordinate bounding elements form a centralized
order, they will accentuate the independence of the space-element.
 The mass-element is prima rily determined by the lateral boundaries, 19 The tennis court excmpliliel a space
which is mainly defined by the noor. The
while the upper limitation is often formall y inactive. The space-element, role of the Root in llehitecture has so h r
instead, is defined by walls as well as by ceiling and Roor. These surfaces har<lly been studied.
play different roles in the formation of the space-element. The floor
necessarily has to be an approximately flat surface, but it may conrain
differences of level and inclinations (stairs, ramps). Furthermore it can
be subdivided and treated ornamentally in such a way that a direction
or centralization is emphasized. Because of its relatively few possibilities
of variation, the Roor generally has the character of a unifiying dement
which helps in defining the space-form, at the same time as it serves as ~9
ground for the mass-elements. " The treatment of the walls and the
ceiling offers a much greater freedom, although the ceiling is often
determined by technical factors. It is important to realize that the walls
ought to be adjusted to more different situations than the ceiling, because
the walls arc placed in varying positions according to the functions they
have to frame. T he ceiling, instead, usually has a fix ed position and is
perceived as distant' . Hence the ceiling has been the preferred zone for
religious symbolization. A space-dement may also be defined by the 31
ceiling alone (a roof on stilts), or by freestanding walls open to the sky. 81
The bounding surfaces often have a double function in defining simulta-
neously masses and spaces.
We have above introdu ced the bounding surface: as an element
subordinate to the mass- and space-elements. But the surface can also
play an independent and leading role in the formal organization. T he
most evident example is the facade within a continuous row of buildings.
In general we define a JII'fac~-(l(m(nt as a limited surface without
thickness' but perhaps with relief properties. An Egyptia n pylon, for
instance. may be described as a mass-clement formed by several surface-
elements. The latter are bounded by round protruding mouldings at the 50
corners, which prevent the surfaces from forming a continuity. Th ese
mouldings do not appear on the older monuments, and we ma y conclude
that the original mass-d ement (the megalith) has become gradually more
articulated. In this way the surface is ' liberated ' and gains status as a
semi-independent element. In present-day architecture surface-elements
arc of the greatest importan ce.

' 37
 The architectural form of Michelangelo is determined by the treatment 20 Norberg.s<:hult : Midultll/gd o... p. .41

of the bounding surfaces, while the space-form is relatively unimportant.
H is project for the Capitoline H ilf employs the poor as a leading formal
element; as a convex oval it contrasts with the surrounding buildings,
and a star-shaped ornament gradually converges on the equestrian Marcus
21 Borrom ini ~lso took the bou nding sur-
Iace ;IS his pcine of departure. See Fig. :11.
11 Th e well- known figure-ground rcb lion-
Ih ip il d i<c:uuctl for in'lance by A r n h~i m in
If;t , 'I1IJ Vi ,,,,,1 r"uprio" (pp. I II ] ft.).

Aurelius in the centre; " In the Cappella Medici and the Biblioteca Lau- !3 Modern ar ehitecture U5UJlly J voidl the
emphasi:r.illg of individ ua l ~[em~n[S through
renziana the walls play the leading role, and in the Cappella Sistina the fuming. O penings are pul in the l urb ce
ceiling. 11 withoul relicf. In Renais ncc archilecture,
however , the e1emenls arc framed.
T he bounding surfaces are generally made up of subordinate elements.
~~ We m~y compJrc with musie wher~ lh~
These may be plastic or perforative. T o exemplify the plastic elements r ef'<'litiorl of a motive hJ I all .tII~logous Iu nc-
we may take the pilaster, which usually presents itself against a neutral l ion. EspeciJlly ehuaCienSlic b the repelition
or secondary ground . Perforating elements are exemplified by windows oC the whole upu.ilion of Ihe .on'".;1 move-
50 mem .
and doors. T hese also in most cases have figure-character against a
ground . n In both cases a /ram( (an emphasized contour) will accentuate
the figure-character, that is. the independence of the element; " Here, too,
a symmetrical or geometrically simple solution ",;11 stress the individuality.
The figure-character is furthermore emphasized through the isolation of
the element, or by a repetition which underlines its properties. 24
The figure-ground relationship suggests that the architectural form
normally consists of primary and suondary elements, or of a whole
hierarchy of such. The hierarchy. however, is not univocal. The bounding
surfaces may, for instance, be of prime importance for the relationship
to the surroundings, while they form a neutral ground for plastic and
perforating elements. The bounding surface often consists of several laJ(rs
of which some or all have figure-character, This is the case in Gothic 50

architecture. It may also become a relief without a clearl y defined ground.

Or it may be transformed into a skeleton with secondary filling or covering
elements which are distinguished from the primary skeleton. Thi s
treatment of the bounding surface is much used in present-day archi-
tecture. What has been said above regarding ligh t, colour, and texture
also applies to the surface. We will return to the relations between the
subordinate elements of the bounding surfaces in the next section.
Instead of referring to mass-, space-, and surface-elements, it is often
convenient to introduce elements which have the character of total-
Gestalten ' . By this term w e mean an element where space-form and
space-boundary, respectively mass-form and mass-boundary, or all three
basic d ements are forming a pregnant whole. The baldachine is such a 51 lI't'l'k" I, pp. 88 fl.
total-Gestalt. T he baldachine has been the basic element of several formal
systems, and thus is of prime importance in Late-antique, Byzantine,
Romanesque, and Gothic architecture. " In the baldachine de ment we
cannot in the usual way distinguish between walls and ceiling, but have
to refer to a continuous, indivisible whole." We know several total-
Gestalten which are denominated by commonly used terms. Some of
them are building types like the l basilica', others are single elements
like 'column ' , ' pilaster ' , ' pediment ' etc. Such total-Gestalten may also
be called ' conventional motives' or in short ' motives ' , to distinguish
them from the more abstract ' clements' . The introduction of the motive-
~~ See H . Scdlmayr : ' Dn en te minebher_
liche Arc:hitdaun ystem ' . in pochNf .." d
16 For thi ~ re~ son Michebngd o used the
baldachine in h i ~ b ,t works. By means of
certain dct~i1s (such a, the shape< of the
windows) he char.cterizcd the vault. u
' hlown up ' . A ~ the baldachine normally ex-
hihits a conuary mo\'cment , a cOflPic/i"l
form r<::iults. Th e (Onflict mOl;".. which de
teemiees oa rly ~Il his work ~ w ". th us (On-
eretized in one continuous form. (See S or.
berg-Schulz : .\firhrlll1flIrlo).
!1 The co ncepts ;m, Dot q ualiu tive, b u t
can be reduced to the categoric. of space,
mass. and surface.

concept helps us to denote formal wholes directly. " Th e final analysis ! ~ Coml"' re with thc statement of Rufer
that the essential characteri5lic~ o f musical
should have to use both types of concept. form are Ikgff"~Il"g aod G/irt/r ruflg. (Sec
Elements which are topologically defined have a diffuse, amorphous Dir Kompotitio" mil "wolf TOM", Berlin
1')5 2),
character, and their 'expression' merely consists in their concentration
or closure. Only through geometrization, only through the accentuation
of particular Gestalt-qualities, do the elements become able to build up
varying structures which may cover different meanings. An element is
therefore in general characterized as being bounded and articulated . 2~
Th e definition of the concept of ' articulation ' follows from what has
been said above. In more general terms it may consist in expressing what
we have called the 'structural skeleton ' of a Gestalt. Secondary elements 7
arc characterized as being relatively inarticulate or diffuse. A mass-element
may be topologically or geometrically concentr ated with or without
articulated bounding surfaces. T he bounding surfaces may be arcticulated
in such a way that they ' characterize ' the mass, for instance as a ' block '
or as a ' box '. Th e treatment of the surfaces determines the degree of
"massiviry". T he space-dement is subject to analogous conditions. When
we say that an element is articulated', we imply that the word' element '
is an auxiliary term which denotes a certain complex of subordinate
elements and relations, During the analysis we treat the element as a unit,
its inner organization does not concern us at the outset. Architectural
form depends upon formation of precise elements, and it would be a
misunderstanding to believe that the form becomes richer by making

'39
 2'J The Ibtoq~ fused the deIDC11U ""'},Ollt
the elements diffuse. " We should also notice that the combination of
m~l:ing them Jill_ .
conflicting elements has to be evaded, if we do not intend an expression 52
JO This is Ihe (tie in !obnncrin u(hjt~
where the conflict becomes meaningful. JO Nre. (Sec w. H~8" : 'Z ur R.> urrutruln Uf de.
M~iKn ..., in da Italienischen Archilektu.r.
F~ltKAri" .\I.u ti .. W.,..k""""g<'f. KOln 1951i).
R ELATI ONS j l The house dusters of the Stone Age were
b3l1 upon proximity. ~nd the ....mc hukh
T he term ' relation ' denotes a lawful way of distributing clements. Formal true for m~ny "primuiv e ' vill~gt' .
relations necessaril y are tri-dimensional or 'spatial', as the dements are
mainl y masses and spaces. In certain cases we encoun ter bi-dimensional
relations, for instance when we analyze the organization of a bound ing
surface (fa\ade). Our exposition, therefore, may be based upon Piaget's
investigations of the space-conception. with information from Gestalt
theory as a supplement. Firstly we should take a look at the topological
relations, and afterwards turn to the more or less developed Euclidean
schemata.
T he most elementary topological relation is proximity, If a num ber
of elements are placed close to each other they will form a cluster or
group. The expression close to each other' has to be defined more
precisely. It seems to be important that the distances between the clements
are fairly equal, and that the distances do not exceed substantially the
size of the elements. In a collection of clements at varying distances
from each other, sub-gro ups will form , separated by the larger intervals.
The proximity relation is not concerned with the form of the elements
or their orientation to each other. In primitive architecture it plays a deci-
sive role, a state of affairs we should expect, as it is the most elementary 53
ordering principle. jl The proximity relation has kept a certain importance
throughout architectural history, but usually as a part of a more complex
system of relations. Proximi ty not only may determine the groupi ng of
buildings, but also their inner organization, sueh as the distribution of
mass- and space-elements and the treatment of the bounding surfaces.
It also determines the relation between buildings and the surro unding
land scape, as it may assign to a group of houses figure-character against
the landscape-ground.
Related to the proximity relation is the conception of closure, We will
use this term to denote organization by means of a continuous outer
boundary. When one clement is inside another one, we have a property 31 Th e rebtioruhip bet....een a dOl:d ur ban
tOI~ ity and its fUlTOU ndings in diKuS5ed in
of the closure relation. Most of the cities of the past were based upon C. Norb<7g-5(:hulz ; "Land skap 08 menneske-
this relation. surrounded as they were by closed walls and fortifications. " 28 verk ' , in By. og Rcgionpfanlcgging, The
Technical University of Norway 1960.
Inside the walls the houses were generally ordered according to the
33 The term inlerpe nelra l;\>n' was intro-
proximity relation. Large areas were often left free between the clusters 54 duced by F rankl (Ent,.,;ct.1''''K$pham ,). A.
of houses, and the surrounding wall was essential to give the city its an eumple we may point to me f~ of
S. Agnor: in Piazu Nuon a .u planned by
coherence. These closed organisms are today destroyed by houses built Borrom ini. (Sec Hempel ; Borron""i, Wi<;n
outside the walls. One might imagine that this would join the buildings 192.4, pl. ')0).
better to the environment, but the opposite happens because the order in 3. The BH ""lul' emp!\cd numerous types
question is based upon the closure relation which sui generis does not o{ fusion. Sec Fran kl, op . cit.

tolerate any break in the continuous boundary. Th is does not imply, n Moot dearly in tbe works of Min van
der Robe. F"-' ion i5 prrsc m in the brick house
however, that interpenetration is impossible as an ordering relation in from 192] and di vision in the Barcelona pa-
architecture. It is, on the contrary, of the greatest interest. An 'inter- vilion from 1929. (Sec P . }ohlUOn : ,\tiu lIa"
d~ Rohc, pp. p , 66). The nuiOD is empha-
penetration " is created when two d ements overlap. This does not mean sized by means of transparent walll, and
that they lose their independence, only that ambiguous zones are formed, above all by ' diHolving' the corners.

which at the same time 'belong to' both d ements. All the basic types 36 Piagel u s.t:1 the term' order ' to delignale
55 a spa.ti..1 successio n. We preler to prer.ave the
of d ements may interpenetrate, 33 general meaning of ' order '.
We also know wholes which exhibit a certain articulation, but where J1 Wf; undentand that the tcrnu ' add ition'
it is difficult or impossible to abstract distinct d ements. In this case we and ' di vision ' denote: 5imple topological re-
Iati0 05.
should have to talk about fusion' . By means of interpenetration and
deformation the elements may be brought to melt together in such a
way tha t a formal separation becomes meaningless, A genetical separation,
however. is usually possible. 3 Instead of taking the d ements as our
point of departure , we could also start with a whole which is subdivided
afterwards. Th is method of achieving articulation may be called' division",
Both fusion and division are important in present-day architecture, where 56
primarily the space-elements are melted together, J5 Succession and con-
tinuity are relations with particular characteristics. J6 While proximity
only leads to the forma tion of amorphous dusters. the relation of succession
creates rows which have a beginning and an end, and perhaps a de-
termined direction, The continuity relation is basic to rows exhibiting
a certain fusion of the elements.
Proximity and succession are addisiuc relations, as distinct from the
dirisire relations exemplified by subdivision and certain types of con-
tinuiry. " Fusion is genetically additive, but cannot be analyzed formally


as such. Although the in terpenetration in principle is addit ive, we will .Jll Fun kl aho giYfi ' i nl~rpeneu:nwn' ua -
res as a separate category. U two ..Ianenu
give it status as a separate category. to let the term' addition ' denote touch .. ad! otha at a common boundary , we
relations without ambiguous manifestations. 31 . hould ul k about a ' (OlIua' of add~ dc-
menu , ntha than an i nta~tion.
The relation which bridges the gap between the topological and the
39 In Mcdiaeyal archilC(tllre it Wa> common
geometrical schema ta, is similarity. T he Gestalt psycologists have pointed. 6 to In the church racmble the Church of [he
out that similar elements form group s. T his phenome non is of fund amental Hnly Grave in Jerusalem (lZd fONnIZ'" SIZfl(';
s~ptllm' '~rosolimjl<ln,) , T he conception of
im portan ce to all higher types of structure; we have even seen that the similarity, however, was very d ifferent from
abstraction of similarities form the basis for the very concept of order . our own. Accordingly, all ru trlZli: eJ sclu -
no ns were aceept~, and also buildings haying
An order depends upon the possibility of indicating elements as similar
me sam.. " umkr of e/~",e"t1. (Sa: R. Kraut-
or dissimilar. T he similarity may be merely topological, or may consist helmer r Introduction [0 an knn.ognlphy of
in an exact correspondence of all the pro perties of the d ements. j9 In the Mcdiaeyal .-\rchitecture '. ' OUT" IJ/ 0/ d e"".,r_
hurg l"stilt/te, l<Indon IW).
present context it is important to point out th at sim ilarity and dissimilarity
40 We will return to these: open fOl1llS, but
can be used to form relations like repetition, contrast, and dominance. 57 .hould immediatdy point co their g=>t im
T he repeti tion of similarities is essential to 'open forms' where d ements poetance in prcocnt-day architecture , The fim
typical example was the O'yst:ll Palace in
m ay be take n away or added without destroying the composition. This 100
oI{l
London (18St).
relation should not be confounded with the topological succession where 41 The se two possibilities arc exhi hit~ res-
dissimilar elements form a row, A repetition is not dependent upon a pectively by classical Greek and by Rl'''I an
architec ture.
strict topological continuity, as the similarit y of the elements creates
coherence, T he term s contrast ' and 'dominance ' express th at the
d ements are classified according to their similarities, and that one class
ma y do minate the others. Colour, texture, shape, size and orientation
contribute to th ese relations. Dommance ma y also be due to a partic ular
treatment which produ ces a ' strong Gestalt ' , T he mediaeval church not
only domi nates the town because of its size, but also because of its form 57
and perhaps because of its east-west or ienta tion which often differs from
that of the other build ings . In the landscape a common orienta tion of
several dements may create a unified figure-character, and the repetition
of directions suggested by the land scape itself ma y join the buildings to
their surroundings. A mass-d ement is chara cterized by its orientation:
seen at an oblique angle it maintains its massivity; in a frontal view, 8
however, it is reduced to a surface. ~ I
T he geometrical relation s are conveniently classified as the orga nie-
ation of elements relati ve to a point, relative to a line, and relative to a 58
co-ordinate system. These basic relat ions ma y also be com bined. Organiz-
ation relative to a point is usually called 'ce ntralization' . This relation
 produces different types of rotational symmetries, 42 It has played a very
important role thro ughout architectura l histor y, especially in Renaissance
architecture, where the centralized space is a cosmic symbol. Central-
ization determines circular, pentagonal, hexagonal, and octagonal shapes,
and often the square. We also know characteristic examples where oblong
dement s arc centralized by means of a particular treatment. 4-' To describe
the differences between the centralized forms, we have to introduce
other geometrical relations. The first one is axiality. Th e word' axis'
expresses that we arc referring to an organization relative to a line.
T he line does not have to be straight, but it must have a determined
shape, in contrast to topological continuity where the shape is irrelevant .
A line with a determined shape orders the elements in succession and
gives the order a direction . Th e axis has played a leading role in the
history of architecture. While the Greek lay-oms (Athens, Delphi, Olym-
pia) were topologically organized, Hellenism introduced organizing direc-
tions and later even symmetries. In Roman architecture the axis gained
primary importance. It may, however, be used in very different ways.
In Mannerist architecture it is splitting and leads to nowhere, while
the Baroque employs the axis to achieve a unifying and submissive
effect. 44 Today symmetry is rarel y emphasized, and although it may often
be of practical importance, we do not intend movements along an axis. 45
Instead we introduce organizing directions by means of so-called' guiding '
elements. These usually have an ambiguous character in belonging simul-
taneously to two or more superior elements. A ' guiding wall ' , for instance,
may unify two space-elements by means of its continuity. 46 The contact
between building and landscape may also be emphasized through guiding
elements such as walls extending into the surround ings. In general, lines
as well as surfaces may be guiding. 47
When a direction is repeated it means that a relation of parallelism
is introduced. Parallel lines imply the repetition of equal angles. Parallelism
often appears independentl y of symmetry, for instance in Hittite and
Cretan architecture. 48 Tod ay parallelism has gained particular importance
in connection with the ' free plan' , because reflections in glassy surfaces
repeat the parallelism when all angles are straight. If reflections are used
as a means to achieve a guiding, fusing effect, it is important to avoid
'43
f
u For rbe con e~pt of symmetry s~~ II .
Wcyl: SymmN ry. Princeton 1 ~15 2; ~1so K . J..
Wolf and D. Ku hn: Gr,/"l/ und Sym mClr;r.
Tiibiogen 1952. Many of the rdations we
describe could be d efined as ' ymmetries. We
do not find it convenient , however, to employ
59 ,u ch a , pecialized terminology. We shall only
talk abo ut cenlral (rotational) "nd axial (hi.
lateral) , ymm"lri" .
43 Church .building, can often be under.
stood as a synth esis of centralized and lcngi-
Illdin al ' pace,. E"entially pronounced in Bru
nelIe>c hi', S. Spir ito in Florence where the
same bound ing system is carr ied around the
whole ' pace to emphasize the domed ce[ltre.
(Sec: Norberg-Sch lllz : 'Le ult ime... ') .
44 See H. Hoffmann: H odmma;wmu, Ma -
n;er;,m u<, Fruhharock , Zurich 1938.
61 45 Mies van der Rohe often employs sym-
metry, hu t the axes do nO! prescribe the mOVC-
mm ts of the beholde t. T hey arc only ern-
62
phasiaed lines belonging to the organlz 'ng
co-ord inate system.
46 T he term Was iotnxloced by the auth or
in a joint artide with A. Korsmo (' Mie, vao
der Rohe ' , Byggeku/1'/ No. 5, 1952), where
Mies" project for a house with thr ee courts
from r9'7 was compared with a 'similar '
ne use without guiding walls. Obviously the
60 guid ing walls are e.\Se ntial to obtain the in-
tended fusioo of the spaccs.
65 47 Several examples of guiding dements are
given in C. Nc rberg-Scbulz : ' Om rommet i
arkite ktu ren ", Hygg(kU/1st, ' 952.
48 For instance in the temples in Boghaz -
keuy and the palace of Kllos,os. Tend encies
toward s axial organizat ion arc present, e.lpe-
dall y in connection with the en trance. (Sec
Boghazkeu }', Te mple 1, in Wacht, mu lh : D a
Raum I, Marburg 1929. p. 7r).
63
 4~ Ccrnpr re the Barcelona pavilion by Mie!
oblique angles. " But the repetItion of oblique angles may also have an '1-4
v~ n der Rohe.
ordcring effect, as shown in certain present-day experiments. so The oblique 66
50 & pedally in the work of Frank Llo\u
angles arc more flexible relative to irregular building-sites, but it must Wr ight. {See H . R. Hitehmck: In th~ Nat" re
be emphasized that the usc of accidental or varying angles leads back 0/ .' (au , ja!, . Ne w York "I-P' illul. 347'51).
to purely topological relations. A gro mr tri ca! order is only possible through Sl F~mou. examp le. arc Bern ini', Scala Re
gi~ in the V~licln l nd hi. Piazz a Rella in
the: repetition of angles which form a system, such as IS, 300, 45", 60''', front of St. Peters.
and tjl'f. Determ ined angles may also imply an accentuation of the hori- 5Z We must repeat tha t equal size. only
z ontal-t-crticai directions, an elementary schema, which is in harmony h ~ve a fannal importallCc if they are rorre
1.11 with . imilar vi.ual Gestalten.
with most functions and natural conditions. If we let the directions
conn:rge towards a point, we create perspcctirr relations. Perspective is
mostly employed where optical illusions are intended, such as making
a room look longer or shorter than its real ' length. 51 Through a
systematic usc of parallel lines we arr ive at the most comprehensive
system of relations, the co-ordinate systrm. A developed co-ordinate system,
repeats determined directions and dimensions throughout. T he co-ordi nate
system. however, is not always all-comprehendin g. We kn ow. for instance.
examples where the ma1S-structure is determined through the repetition
of the same basic d imension (module), while the spaces arc accidental
intervals 51 Th e opposite may also happen, especially when a building
is planned by means of a grid ' . The lines of the grid do not take the
thickness of the mass-elements into consideration. and irregularities arc
created. In general a co-ordinate system implies regulating lines in several
directions. Architectural space, however, has never been fully Euclidean,
that is, isotropic. There is always a difference between the extension on
the ground-plane and the extension upwards, owing to the fact that man
stands on the gro und. We should therefore regard recent attempts at
basing the architectural form upon tri-dimensional grids with a certain
skepticism.
A spac~ formed by means of a comprehensive co-ordinate system has 70
a weaker figure-character than an enclosed ' special ' space-element . Rather
it is a neutral continuum exhibiting a certain want of expression. It has,
however, two potential possibilities. Firstly it may serve as a ground for
mass-element s, and secondly it furnishes the 'raw material' for space
elements created by emphasizing, leaving out, or connecting points in
the co-ordina te system. Such modifications of the system may consist of
 a combination of two or more types of geometrical relations through 51 Arnheim: A rl.. . . p. 3.

the introduction of organizing centres or axes. The latent 'structura l 5i Temple I, ooghnkeuy.

skcicton ' is thus made visible, and the form becomes pregnant. An clement 55 ~kd inet
I-bbu in Theocs. (S<.-<: 1)\'0 Hol_
~her : D;~ Wu,d~rr",;rmu ng
mn Jf~diMt
placed in the cent re of one of the sections of the co-ordinate system has Hub" im W rllljeArn T hrben . Tu bigen ' 95SJ,
this effect, while an irregular position produces a certain 'tension'. S3 'If, The Pam heon has an emphasized boun.

A real 'confl ict ' (which may be intended) is created through the intro- d ary and could he characterized as a 'ce ntri_
petal ' 'race. while Rramante ', project for
duction of accidentally placed centres and axes. A complex system of St. Petn' , i. a centrifuga l ' w mpo.ition. In
geometrical relations may also consist of a combination of symmetries Michelangelo's plan for St. Peter 's the two
po ibi]itie. are unified in a ccntlict-struc-
and asymmetries. T he possibilities mentioned play an important role in tur e .
the Visual arts and architecture.
5; The method wa, de veloped by Mies van
The combination of topological and geometrical relations offer still d er Rohe. and for the first time d early ex-
more interesting possibilities. Most architectur al structures can in fact prCCd in his house for the Berlin c>t hibition
in ' 931.
be analyzed as such. A topologically closed whole, for instance, may be sa
51 We could imagine an ordrr lused upon
articulated by means of parallel lines, ~ or through an empha sized axis. S5 64- formal elements which arc :m oc;alw with the
A centralized order may be characterized as 'centrifugal ' or centripetal , 67 urne sentiment. Such a general atm~phere '
i, typical of rom anti c m u.ic, The ...-dcr 0b-
according to the topological interrelations of the centralized elements. S(; 68 rained , however . is amorp hous aod of limited
The possibilities are innumerable, and we can only refer to one more 69 interest .
example. Two or more types of relations may thus be combined in
such a way that we arr ive at a double order' . In recent architecture
this is frequently done by combining a ;. free plan' determined by parallel
lines or topological relations, with a technically founded co-ordinate 70
system. "
Besides the topological and geometrical relations, we may also talk
about ' conventional relations'. T hese consist in prescribed ways of combin-
ing conventional motives. T he classical orders, for instance, arc based
upon conventional relations. Any conventional relation, however, may be
reduced to its topological and geometrical properties, and we understand
that the concept is only intro duced as an expedient to simplify the
description. The conventional relations arc connected with the problem
of style, which will be treated later. ~~
Finally it is important to notice that a relation may be more or less
com prchensive. In primitive architecture the relations only concern a
limited cluster of clements, wh ile the great epochs of architectural history
exhibit a desire to create always more extensive organisms. T his may
be done either by applying uniformly one type of relation , or by inrro-

145

J _
ducing two or more types corresponding to a hierarchy of elements. W Frey: COlik " 1/ J Re1/Jiu J1/u. o.

In classical Greek architecture the organizing relations are tied to 61 liOIt is possible to eMfY through a S)Sl~.
matK exposition of aU combination. of ~I~_
the single building, while H ellenistic-Roman architecture knows more 62 mems.a nd reb tioru. Th is task, ho...~vef , bI b
extensive compositions like fora, baths, and palaces. Only duri ng the outside the scope of the present n ud)o .
Renaissance. however, did an undisturbed isotropic order become the 71
ideal. ~9 Th e latter order has found renewed interest in our time, because
the functions are no longer isolated.
Th e relations between the elements arc usually more important than
the clements themselves. T his is perhaps not surprising, as the clement
is determ ined by its inner relations. In other words, the whole becomes
more important than the parts, as soon as we can talk about a whole
rather than an accidental 'aggregate' of independent units. A whole,
on the other hand, is itself an clement in a wider context, and we under-
stand that ' element ' and relation ' arc interconnected aspects of the
same object : the formal structure. T he architecture of the Renaissance
and the Baroque' illustrates the clement-relation problem especially well,
because the same basic elements arc related in varying ways. It is therefore
necessary to have an experienced eye to perceive the seemingly small
nuances in the architecture of this period. Th e example becomes still
more interesting because the elements arc mainly borrowed from the
' classical' architecture of Antiquity. On should not forget, however. the
role of the mediaeval tradition. Th e theme' classical architecture' therefore
offers an ideal introduction to the basic problems of architectural form.

F ORM AL STRUCTURE

We have already suggested that a collection of dements ordered by

means of the proximity relation, form a ;. group ', while a collection of
clements ordered by the continuity rd ation form a ;. row' . In both cases
we arrive at forms or formal strucrures. Through different combinations
of clements and relations We may create an infinite number of such
structures. The combinations, however. follow determined principles which
are functions of what enters the structure. We can therefore render an
account of the general properties of the formal structure and give some
characteristic examples. 60

146
 T he group formed when a collection of mass-elements is ordered by
means of proximity has a relatively low degree of articulation. According
to everyday language we would call such a form a "cluster", 61 T he cluster
may be geometrized and become a real group with co-ordinated elements.
In the same way a topologically ordered ' row' may be geometrized.
Finally we may geometr ize a topological enclosure by means of a point,
a line, or a grid, and arrive at a circle, an ellipse, or a polygon. A cluster
61 rt would ohviously be practical to POSICOS
a d ifferentiated common terminology wh ich
covers all important architectur al form s. We
53 will not. however, introdu ce too many COI'l-
cepe ill the prc...m <Iud}'. as a terminology
has to grow natu rally. We arc onry aiming
at the more basic d istinctions.
,2 6.2 It may, however, embrace ope n forms.
6J See for ilLStana Tem ple II &om Tarcien .

is always an ' opm ' form , as the d ements by definition are independent (Ccschi : op. cit. , p. II).

and ma y be taken away or added. A group, instead, can be open or 64 See the plan of the white templ e' in
Warka. (H. Frankfort : T"e An (lnd Art"'.
'cloud' . We have already introduced the terms ' centripetal' and "cen- 67 terture at
tl.e Annent Orient . Harmc nds-
trifugal' to cover this state of affairs. A cluster is not only geometrized 68 worth t954. p. 'j) .

by means of centralization, but may also be submitted to a co-ordinate

system. In this case both centripetal and centrifugal formations are
possible. A row may also be open or closed, while an enclosure by defini-
tion is a closed Icrm. " Rows and groups are additive or divisive, that
is, organized from 'below' or from < above ' .
Space-elements show analogous possibilities for the formation of rows
and groups, and the same holds true for surface-elements.
Clusters of mass-elements are normal in prim itive architecture , while
space-elements only appear in isolation artificial caves'). T he megalithic
temples on Malta, however, contain rows. of compound space-elements. " 73
In Mesopotamian architecture we may talk about dusters of parallel
space-elements, while the mass-form is diffusely enclosing and shows a
surface treatment which has no correspondence with the addition of H
spatial units. " Th e mass-structure and the space-structure thus do not
have to correspond. Even today we often enclose complex groups of
space-elemen ts within an encompassing ma ss. Sometimes the mass is
articulated, without the spaces participating, on other occasions the opposite
happens, or the two basic elements are combined in varying ways. In
Egyptian architecture we find clearly defined rows of space-elements
which are bounded by groups of masses. We realize that a geometrical 64
grouping of masses (surfaces) necessarily produ ces a geometrical space.
A topological grouping of mass-dements produces instead a topological
space. As the topological grouping has 'no shape' (except for the prox-
imity etc. of its elements), the topological space becomes an accidental

' 47

!
- insl~ nce
interval. 6' A forma l intenti on comprising in terrelated space-clements there- 61
fore presupposes a certain gcometrization. A complete geometrization,
however, is not necessary, as a defined direction may be enough.
Groups, rows, and enclosures m ay not onl y be varied ad infin itum by
means of simple or combined relations, but also th roug h variation of the
elements." The elements within a group. for instance, may be similar
or dissimilar and create relations of repetition, contrast, or dominance.
In early Renaissance architecture rows of fairly un iform d ements were
formed. Raphael introduced a row-formation (spatial succession) based upon
contrasting elements, and thus paved the way for the formal structures
of the Baroque. 67 Rows and groups arc norm ally formed on the horizontal
plane, while the vertical dimension is a direct function of the properties
of the single elements.
In principle any formal structure can be analyzed in terms of elements
and relations, and our suggestions indicate an infinite number of possibili-
ties, from the amorphous topological cluster to the completely articulated
rhythmical group. /ill
It is important to notice that particular relations demand elements
with suitable properties. When the relations are purely topological, the
properties of the elements are in principle irrelevant , though we may
recognize the fact that geometrical elements ' express a desire ' to hi:
ordered geometrically. A structure where geometrical elements arc related
topologically therefore looks unsatisfactory or even chaotic. Thi s per-
ception can be un derstood as an intermediary object where the ' higher '
order of the elements makes the general topological relations ineffective. 6\1
Th e only topologically determined totality which is able to comprise
strong geometrical Gestalten is the enclosure. With in a clearly defined
frame anything is possible. " Topological relations therefore request
elements which are either diffuse or markedly concentrated. Geometrically
concentrated elements, of course, fit in with geometrical relations, while
these shun diffuse elements. Geometrical relations may not as a matter
of principle demand geometrical elements, but as the relations arc not
casily perceptible if they are not expressed on the elements themselves
the use of diffuse dements would make ' invisible' geometrical relations
(such as equal distances to an axis) illusory. 71 Th e more complex the
148
65 For in cbssieal Greek aechieec-
ewe,
6/i When te~ch ing architectural form we
.ho u!d put both que srionv : Which form al
~tr ucture. c~n be creat ed with on( d ement
and changing rebtions ?, and , W hich formal
suuetura a n be cruted with one reI41;o"
and changin g elem enD~
67 Villa Madama, planned in 1517 (! ), Stt
M. B ~fi !e : II Giardi~o Ji Villa MaJIlTIJ Il,
Roma 194 2 .
6lI CorneU (op. cit.) want s to derive all
75 stru..-rures from the dichotomy exterior-inler-
ior , Th e drama ' of aecbieecture con,illS in
going f rom the out,jde in. OU f expoueion
shows tha t this theory mean. an ampu tation
of the architectural form.
69 Toda y many housing devdopmen13 look
chaotic in spite of ~ certain lOpologic~1 co-
herence, becau'C the single clements arc gco.
metrical.
76 70 Formal e~ perimc:nrs, therefore, should be
do ne within clearly defined boundaries. Com-
pare the Roman experiment. with .pa.tial
successions, and also the ' free' plans of moo -
ern architecture .
71 Brunelleschi showed hi. ~meulcal order
0" the surfaces in making ~Il the prima ry
parts of dark " pierra " rena ' on a ground of
while plaster.
16
relations are, the more complicated the elements become. If a combination
of complex relations and simple elements is desired, we should have to
split the relation-complex into components and distribute the elements
accordingly. n
From what has been said above it follows that a particular type of
formal structure only admits elements with certain properties. The Doric
system, for instance, admits neither the pointed arch nor the dome (they
arc <foreign ' to the system). The dome, however, forms a part of a
superior ' classical ' system which also comprises the Doric as a sub-system.
The Romans tried to unify the relatively isolated Greek systems into such
n Th is is the ea", when a free plan is orga
nized by a ' dear eon.truetion . T he bound-
ing Jurfaet1 obey "min (rdativd y . imple)
70 relations. and the ccnst rucrion different ones.
Toget her they form a fertile .y.tern. unifying
freedom and order .
73 How this ha pptnM will be shown in a
later srudy on 'Ciassi<:2llLl"chi!ettuu '.
i~ As particularly grot esq"" examples can
be mentioned the castle in Schwenn and the
:-;'alional Museum in Munich. (See K. O. Han
mann: Dit E"t wic klu" K ' " B"u~u1>St III,
Berlin 1931. pp. 315, JYJ).

a comprehensive classical system. 7J One of the reasons for the unsatisfac- 7S L'Orangc . Fr" Pri" n pat til Domi"""
pp. 31 ff .
tory character of much of the Nordic neo-classical architecture surely is 76 T he column. the pediment . and the dome
the introduction of steep (' Gothic') roofs. The confusion of styles in the are well-known motives.
nineteenth century exemplifies an architecture where the elements are
used without the necessary correspondence to the employed relations, or
to the formal system which happened to dominate the single work. 74 77
An interesting case of the employment of elements foreign to the system 78
is the spolium-architecture of late Antiquity. Elements from older build-
ings were used anew in an essentially different architecture. It happened,
for instance, that old bases were used over again as capitals, or vice versa.
We may infer that the elements were not employed because of their formal
properties, but possibly as carriers of particular meanings. And we may
also conclude that the relevant formal structure does not comprise the
spolii.1'5
It is not enough to say that the d ement has to belong to the system.
It also has to be assigned a particular role within the system, that is, a
particular element may only appear in prescribed places. We are not
allowed to arrange the dements of the system freely, but have to obey
certain ' rules' . While present-day architecture has tried to free itself
from such restrictions, the systems of the past assigned clearly defined
roles to each motive. T he reason is, of course, that the motives were
meaningful parts of a coherent symbol-system. 76
A formal structure generally consists of primary and secondary
clements, or exhibits a still more complicated hierarchy. The primary
clements are by definition basic to the structu re; if they are taken away

149
the composition disintegrates. 77 In ana lyzing a formal structure it is th ere-
fore essent ial to ind icate the elements which may be taken away without
produ cing thi s effect. An elemen t dominating because of its size is usually
primary, and when the structure is based upon a co-ordinate system , the
primary clements have the task of defining the point s and directions of
the grid. If the structure is axially determ ined , the primary clements 62
emphasize the dire ction and the possible goal of the axis. 78 Because of
their decisive impor tance, the pri mary elements may only sligh tly deviate
from the ' theoretically correct ' solution . The secondary ones, instead,
may be treated with a relatively high degree of freedom , though care
mu st be taken that they do not interfere with the primary elements. This
freedom , however , does not impl y that the secondary elements are artis-
tically more importa nt th an the primary ones. T hey only participate in
the structure via the primary eleme nt s. i'9
The distinction between prima ry and seconda ry elements should not
be confounded with the relation of the main shape to detail s. The main
shape is often secondary and is assigned its cha racter by prim ary details
(subdivisions, corners, opening s etc.). T he same stereometric fonn can
thus be characterized as an addition , a division , or an interpenetr ation
accordin g to the treatment of the details. In general we should again
stress the im porta nce of the bou nding surfaces.1IO O rnament and decoration 44
are usually emp loyed to characterize th e dement s as primary or secondary , 52
but may also be used to produce an intended amb iguous effect. ~ l
Just as important as the distinction between primary and secondary
eleme nts, is the realization that th e formal str ucture com prises several
, lerels", In a compl ex structu re the org anizi ng pro cess will take place
in several phases. Cer tain subordinate element s, for instance. will bu ild
up a bound ing surface, wh ich on a hig her level (and by means of
different types of relat ions) acts as an d ement to form a mass- and for
space-structure. These, for their part , may again participate as elemen ts
in a larger whole (such as a 'spatial composition "), whi ch again becomes
an element on a stiil high er level. B1 An amorphous cluster of inarticulate 53
mass-element s has only one level, while a differentiated urbanistic org anism
has many. T he distinction between different form al levels takes into
150
,i We an imagine a ,Uttt formed by build-
ing, br:lonl{ing to me same style, where onc
building JX"sasa a high degree of articula-
tion while the other, are more ' anon}'mous .
Th e articulated member of the ' family' make,
the others appear 3 ' simpler variations " n
the same basic theme,. 1 it is taken away,
thi s living ,l rUClu re d isappears, and monotony
reigns.
; ~ In Mannerist architecture a movement
into ' emptine," ' wa, achieved hy empha, izing
the Ran ks rather than the axis iuelf. (Sec
lI offmann : 01'_ cit.).
i9 A. Ehr enzweig turns the matter upside-
down when he want s 10 mak e the ' inarticu-
late de raib' the carriers of the artistic ex-
prc$.l lon.
.0 Scdlmayr has >hown how Borrom ini' ,
str ucture is a- function of me boundi ng sur-
f~ . .too he talk. a-bour ' d ie: trim le . stereo-
merri..:he Strubur d er na.cklen Form'. (Bor-
rom i"i. p. ~).
AI In aneienl NOTWegian ....ooden archiece-
ture me prima-ry skeleton i. oruame rued . The
lapanese, however. d ecorate the nll ins: mem-
bers. In ~la.nncri" :m;hilCl;lure d ecoration WaS
used In make the formal hierarchy ambigcous.
&! Com p:nc mot;"" _ l11 eme Jutio" _ mo""-
me'll _C}'rlus in music.
 consideration the fact that the same formal structure part icipates in several
situations, and that its aspects change according to these. Different
relations may govern the different levels (that the d em ents vary is in-
cluded in the definition of the concept of ' level'). A bounding surface
may thus be organized geometrically without having to participate in
31 Th e c1as,ical Greek lay-out, (Athcno.
Olympia. Delphi) exemplify ' tructures where
tbe sinKle rna..-d emcnt. arc geometrical,
wh ile the next formal Ind, that i, . the
relation be t "'~ n the m ass-elements, is topo.
logical (proximity and endmure). Had rian '.
61 ~ ill a in T ivoli exbibit. geometrical rd ations

the formation of a geometrical space." Or the mass-elements may have nn 'Ie~eral level. . an<! corre' pond ing forma.
tion. of extensive spatial gmu ps. T he relatinn
a general geometrical character and form geometrical groups, while loCI ween Ih."" group' . however. i, ha,.,.l upon

their bounding surfaces are articulated topologically. Different geometrical proxim ity.
~4 An euly example of J continuous
relations may also appear on different levels. This happens when a surface
sttuet ure i. the ' pati.::l goomeU"y ' of Bru-
is articulated by means of a geometrical ornament which has nothing to nellescbi. A similar inlention i. clearly n_
do with the main structure. A single level can also get a double structure prrsK'd in the paintin g in Urbina by Fran_
cesec d i Giorgio.
by means of the use of combined relations. If the relations governing
5S Th e tcrtn ' rnluntlan~r' i. borrowed
the different levels are interrelated, we will talk about a continuous from informa tion th ror~ . (See Cherry : op.
structure. T he simplest example is furnished by a structure where the same 16 ea., p. 305).
type of relation is used on all levels, for instance the general employment 71
of a module or a co-ordinate system. ~ T he structure of the lower levels 100
will in this case have the character of a 'condensation ' of the higher ones.
A continuou s structure should not be confounded with a diffuse totality
where it is difficult or impossible to distinguish between different levels.
T he levels may form a hierarchy, in other words : the primar y elements
may appear within one particular level. This is often due to the fact that
one of the situations where the building is participating is so important
that it comes to dominate the structure . A structure, thus, may be deter-
mined from ' above' , from' below ' , or on an intermediate level, or the
levels may have eq ual importance. A clear formal description should treat
the levels separately. One could, for instance, start with the main shape
and proceed gradually to the smallest details, or vice versa, or in other
cases it may be convenient to start on an intermediate level. Generally the
analysis is facilitated if the primary level is taken as the point of departure.
T he distinction of levels expresses the articulation of the structure.
Articulation (diffe rentiation) docs not only imply the use of pregnant
elements and consequent relations, but also the definition of prima ry and
secondary parts and the establishment of interrelated formal levels. Most
forms are redundant. Th e primary elements are repeated or emphasized
in such a way that the danger of misinterpretation is reduced. 85

'5'
 We have already mentioned that a formal structure depends upon
the 'sc ale ' . 56 Very large wholes request a formal organization different
from that of smaller units. A complex urbanistic organism, for instance,
can hardly be geometrized as a totality, but has to be based upon
topological relations between elements which possess a varying degree of
geometrization. Thi s means that the formal levels show varying needs 7. ;Illy in t he neW context :as Sangallo d id not
for organization. ~7
In our time the demand for 'flexible' structures has come to the
fore. This means two things. Firstly that elements can be added or taken
away, so that the building would ' grow ' or 'shrink ' without losing its
coherence. This problem is solved by means of open rows or groups,
and therefore does not contain anything radically new. It stands in con-
trast, however, to the demand for closed forms of the classical tradition. 51!
Secondly ' flexibility' may imply that the elements themselves and their
interrelations should be changeable. We may for instance wish to change
the spatial subdivision or the degree of closure of the space-elements by
means of movable partitions (sliding walls, folding walls, curtains,
blinds etc.), This kind of flexibility will in most cases consist in a limited
number of possibilities for variation, but it can also be total when freely
movable bounding elements are employed. In the first case we can ensure
that all the possible variations produce defined and satisfactory forms,
while such only appear by accident when the flexibility is total. T otal
flexibility therefore needs to be combined with a strong means of organ-
ization (such as a visible co-ordinate system), or it will end in chaos.
The same holds true for the 'free plan ' which can be understood as a
collection of totally flexible elements fixed in a formally accidental
juxtaposition. SO) A free plan may also gain formal coherence by means
of an embracing regular volume. 90 To make a plan ' free ', certain types
of elements and relations have to be avoided. Mass-elements, for instance,
should be small and surrounded by a continuous ground. The idea of
a free plan thus docs not imply that we are allowed to do anything. All
types of formal structures necessarily have their inner 'l aws' and there 82
are set rules for their employment. 91 T he' grammar ' of a structure is
based upon the clements and relations it admits. Th e typical clements of
the system have to be emphasized and the foreign ones repressed. An
116 Fro m the point of vicw of form alone ,
the scale is irrelevant. Th e problem has I
lo(:rn=rieal char acter,
117 In his peojece f()f' 51. Peler ', Antl)flio da
S:ong;lllo iI Giov;lnc used. mo tift'S derived
fro m Bum;lnte' s Te mpietto in S. Pietro in
Monto rio . T he mo tives, howe""r. b il form -
introd uce: the neecullt"y tr ansitory levels be.
80 tween the small borrowed clements and the
large form .
M Expr essed in Alberti's , l;ltement lha l
n<Khi ng should be added clc.
~9 Th e nc.:d for a double 'tructure 10 secure
the Ofg;lniu tion of Ihe free pbn W;lS pointed
OUI by I.e Cor busicr in hi.. project Domj" o
from ' 9'4, (Sec I.e Corbusicr: o~,," Com-
pk~. I).. Min san dcr Robe "'p : ' The free
plan ;100 ;I clear consUuctioo caoOOl be kepi
a~. A d en ' 1t\Il;l uce is the basi. fOl" the
free pbn.. , The SUUct\Ue is th e backbo ne of
th e whole and makes the free plan possible.
Withoot th;ll backbone the plan wou ld not
he free. but chaotic and therefore consti-
pated. ' (Sec C, Norberg-Schulz : Talks wilh
Mies van d er Rohe ' , L'Archirccrurc d'au;our.
d' hlt;. No . 79, p, 100).
90 This solutio n is oflen emp loyed by Mie.
van dcr Rohe.
9 1 ~fies expresses Ihis f.lcr :IS follows : Th e
free pbn is a new co~ption and has iu own
gr:unm ;lr, like a new bngtl;lge. ~bny believe
t hat the free pla n mea ns absolute lib.rty. This
70 is ;I misuadet Sland ing. The frcc pla n ash foe
jll' l as mu cb discip line ;100 und crsu nding
8 1 fro m the ;lrchitcct :as a con" entional pla n.
The free plan for insta nce d emands tha I
dosed clements, which still arc ncce..u y, arc
set back from the outer w;llk . On l}' in th is
w;ly ooe ;lchievC$ a Iree sp:";".' (Norberg.
Schulz : op, cit.).
15 2
element is emphasized through isolation and by fram ing. When framing 50 9~ The H riation form in mus ic ,h mn many
analogiel, and may inspire the in'"estigation
an opening (a window, a door), or a space-element (by means of a of the problem of variation in architecture.
continuous treatment of the bounding surfaces), the independence of the (see Rufer : op. CiL).

clement s is defined. Such a treatment of space-d ements is not admitted by 93 Se1:: Werner: op. cit. , and Waddington
in Whp e , Arpc,u of For"" London T951 .
the free plan which aims at a fusion of the spaces. Hence we notice that mo-
9-1 Michelangelo. in'tead. mw e the middle
der n architecture shuns the framed hole. The spatial continuity is emphas- !iCCtion more narrow and ach ;e~ed a chara<:.
ized through the employment of individual concentrated masses, whereas tere~Tie , plilt ing effect. (See Norhcrg-Schul:z: :

the continuity of the masses is stressed when closed spaces or accidental Mu bd ""gd o... , p. 9).
!IS Th e r"nsion ' th us decrca= U1ward , the
intervals are used. T his state of affairs is basic to the formal grammar, apse. (See Xorberg-Scbula: I.e ulrime. .. ).
and could be called the complementary-principle' of architectural form. 96 T he cities of the p ast had this charaetcT.
Flexible forms were used also in the past, but usually as a theme with
rariations; " We know structures determ ined by a characteristic element
which is varied. The concept of 'variation' presupposes that certain basic
properties remain constant . In other words, the variations must take place
within the limits of form-constancy. The word ' rhythm ' is often used
in connection with the repetition of similar elements. T he simplest case
is a uniform succession, but the concept of rhythm is generally introdu ced
when the repetition is combined with certain lawfu l changes in the
relations between the e1ements. 9 ) In general the word 'rhythm ' denotes
the relational property of succession, while ' variations ' denotes element-
properties derived from a common basic source. Themes with variations
may appear on any formal level. We will only mention two important
possibilities. Within the indi vidual building the theme can be a pregnant
mass-clement, space-element, or surface-d ement. In S. An drea in Mantua,
Alberti based the whole wall-structure upon variations on the rhvthmische 17
T raoce. T his surface-element consists of three sections where the middle
one is wider than the flanks. 9-I As a border-line case the sections may
be equal. In S. Andrea the narthex is based upon the relation 1:3: I , the
nave upon I : 2 : I , the tran sept upon I : I Y; : I , and the choir upon I : I: I. 95
With in an urbanistic organism the themes will usually be building types.
(' Building type ' is an expedient comprehensive term analogous to
'motive '). By means of variations on a limited number of building
types, the townscape gains visual order. 96 T he variation-structure is in
general based upon the elementary formative principles of repetition and
deviation. In discussing it as a particu lar structural type, we impl y that

153
the theme and its variations are primary elements which characterize 9: The inta es! in a continl.l< >U' . l r UCIUfC
ii sltong at present. It has, howc'l""'!'. of l e D
[he form in question. led to d iffuse: form s ra ther t han a real ccn-
In the preceding we have given an account of the more important tinuity. Mies "an der Rohe has realized a
$yn th~is of d early defined d emeDts and con-
properties of the formal structure. We have suggested that the structure l inuity.
may be simple or double, monotonous or hierarchal, special or neutral, 9~ T he ed ation of succession imp!ic, that
articulated or diffuse, consistent or contradictory, univocal or ambiguous, the ' &haufan ade ' of the Baroque form s an
integrating part of the composition.
continuous or discontinuous, etc. 97 An exhaustive investigation of all
99 The add itive spatial structure. of the
these aspects belongs to a specialized study of architectural form, as a Rcnai" ancc demand a uniform illuminati on ,
continuation of one of the problems indicated in the present book. while B:lI"l..q ue struc tures based upon dom i.
We should, however, take a brief look at some structural problems nance :rnd contrast admit a morc ' dr amatic'
illum ination. (See Fr ankl , Enl unckf.",gl '
of particular interest. T he first refers to Frey's distinction between ' simul- p/'IUNJ.. .).
taneous' and 'successive' forms. We understand that these concepts 100 It would al$() be imanring to ineestl-
correspond to our categories ' row ' and ' group ' . A row is by definition gate why some struetUl"CS support /'dti"...
while othen. such as modern :architture in
formed through a succession of clements, while the elements of a group gena-al , He more easily d isturbed.
have several 'simultaneous' relations to each other. Rows and groups
may be combined, for instance by ordering a part of a duster relative
to an axis. A group can thus be more or less homogeneous. The categories
of Frey therefore do not add anything new to our exposition." The
dependence of a structure upon illumination and the changes of the
seasons also form an interesting problem. We have already mentioned
that the elements demand an adequate illumination to be effective, and
the same holds true for a complex structure where it is of particular
importance that the primary elements are d early perceptible. 99 It is often
interesting to investigate the changes in illumination a certain structure
can support. 100 In a climate where the changes of the seasons bring change
of environment, such as green summers and white winters with naked
trees, it is essential to develop formal structures which participate in a
meaningful way.
Our investigation shows that the formal structure can be very complex.
Its 'meaning ' consists in several rdatitdy independent aspects reflec ting
the fact that a building participates in many different situations. This
implies that one of the formal levels may become obsolete, while another
one is still satisfactory. This is the case, for instance, when we disagree
upon the preservation of an old quarter in a city. Its spatial organization
is no longer practical, while it still fulfils an important milieu-function.

154
 Although this is a semantic problem, it has to be mentioned here because 101 se e Norh crg Seh ulz; Mic!ld an;;do .. ,
pp. 29 fl.
it illuminates the multiplicity of the formal structure. Often we change
102 T hi, is th~ case in mu ch of tbe \0-
some structural properties through later modifications, while others arc call~d ' organi. ' ucbit""mfc. \V b i l~ SuUi"an
left intact. A well-known example is how the projects of Michelangelo and Wrigbt introduced tb ~ tu m 'or.l: anic ' to
de note an organized form al and sem iotic eo-
were changed by della Porta after the death of the former. Michelangelo here n~, the term i. tod ay u(lcn uo;cd to
planned the dome of St. Peter's as a relatively dark hemisphere. Della oefend an arbi tra ry play w ith non -gc<,mctr ical
Porta rised the contour and let in light from above. 101 He thus changed forms.

certain aspects of the structure, while others were left as intended by

Michelangelo. First of all, the dome is still a dome, and its urbanistic
function is not essentially changed. Th e general organization is also the
same. When we still say that della Porta gave the dome a new expression,
this is due to the fact that the solution of Michelangelo possessed a
continuous structure where every part was meaningful in relation to the
whole. T o solve the riddle we have to consider both architects as authors,
and we understand that architectural structures, because of their complex
nature, may very well result from collaboration or team-work '. This
is hardly possible with a literary or musical work . Th e complex nature
of the architectural form docs not imply a lack of coherence. In a ' good '
building the form is just as integrated and 'organic' as in other works
of art. We should only realize that the form has to have a compound
character because architecture is less specialized than the other arts.
It is a misconception to believe that a richer form is created by
freeing' oneself from the principles outlined above. Instead one arrives 4-
at contradictions or at a general diffuseness. 10.1. We have seen that the
meaning of an object consists in its relations to other objects, that is, in a
structure. The meaning of an architectural element, therefore, also consists
in its relations to other elements (and to its own parts, i. e. to its inner
organization), and the architectural form is a complex of such relations,
as described above. T he capacity of a formal structure, that is, its ability
to receive contents, is therefore determined by its degree of articulation.
A total lack of articulation is tantamount to chaos, but an exaggerated
articulation will also end in confusion. This follows from the fact that
a form has to generalize, it has to overlook certain shades to grasp the
fundamental similarities. A language which offers a new word for every
new situation is no language. Meaning presupposes the repetition of a

155

7
limited number of elements and relations, which, however. should allow 10) CompJr~ R uf~r 's d efininon of mU$icJ I
form : ' Die b<,id~n In der Enb tehun g einer
all the combinations necessary to cover all important life-situations. IOl musikahschen For m ,...rnchm lich bereiligren
Gcstahun~prinl';ipien sind : d ie Wicderholun g
und d ie Var iation .' (op. cit " p, 29).
STYL E l(M T he coocept of style, theref ore, has ex-
hibired a c~rta in tend ency to dissolve.
In the preceding sections we have investigated the possible formal proper- lO'S Su, h i>ob ted fortn s ('fa ndcl') are ccr-
ties of the individual work of architecture. The concept of style tradi - tainly po"iblc, but re main meaning less.
tionally covers formal properties common to a collection of works. So far lli6 Cherry: op. cit., p. lOR. Such ~ concept
of style has tJ<,en introduced by Meyer.
one has defined "style ' in terms of such common properties. This kind
of definition may serve to classify the single work s. although it is often
difficult to place a work where some stylistic characteristics appear, whereas
others are Iacking. !" T he traditional concept of style, however, does not
allow for a judgement of the originality or quality of a work of architecture.
One might object that the quality is something intrinsic in the single work
as an insclhait concretization, and that the quality may not be "measured'
by comparison with other work s or with a superior style. But we have
over and over again shown that a form only has meaning within a system
of forms, and that the idea of independent meaningful forms is a mis-
conception. That an independent, that is, meaningless form has quality,
is an absurd statement . lOS A form can only receive a content if it belongs
to a system of forms. Such a system we call a "styZ('. But the concept of
style is not satisfactorily defined by the indication of a collection of formal
traits, or by the description of an "ideal ' structure. We have seen that
information theory solves the problem by showing us that the elements
and their combinations within a symbol-system app(ar with varying degrees
of probability. Certain clement s and combinations appear frequently, others
rarely. Furthermore, we have all the elements and combinations which
are foreign to the system, and which perha ps belong to other systems.
Th e concept of style must be defined on this basis, as a "statistical en-
semble" 1fl6 Two kinds of probability are relevant. Firstly we have the purely
formal or syntactical probability which is described through an investigation
of the properties of the syst~m. Secondly we have the pragmatic proba-
bilities resulting from the actual usc of the forms. If a form with a low
syntactical probability is repeated often, it will lose its originality, and if,
on the other hand, a probable (banal) form is avoided it will seem inter-

'56
esring or even ingenious, when it is finally used. 107 We also have to notice
that certain forms are expected in connection with certain building tasks.
T his is a semantical problem which impl ies that we cannot put a sign of
equality between formal and architectural quality. A formally interesting
form becomes meaningless if it is used wrongly. IU:l
T he description of a style must employ the concepts developed to
describe architectural forms in general. In this way the placing of the
single works relative to the style is made possible. Firstly we should
characterize the style in terms of a probable level-structure, and thereupon
investigate the probabilities within the single levels. 109 A work of archi-
tecture may very well be original on one formal level and conventional
on another. As the levels norma lly form a hierarchy, however, we can
generally decide the' real ' originality. A work which is original on all
formal levels will seem revolutionary'. A system which consists of one
level only and which employs simple elements and relations, therefore
only permits revolutionary or banal solutions. Th e simple structure of
popular art, for instance, offers so few possibilities for deviation that an
apparent originality of expression has to be created by means of secondary
ornaments. T o a certain extent this holds true for the ligh ter romantic
music of the nineteent h cemury and especially for presen t-day popular
music. 110 Within an art iculated system we may express instead significant
nuances without leaving the system. The original creation, hence, docs not
consist in breaking the system, but in using the system iud! in such a way
that it unveils new' hidden' possibilities. 111 The originality of an element not
only depends upon its properties, but also upon its place within the structure.
T he style therefore has to be understood as a very complex dimension
of comparison which enables us analytically to place the indi vidual work,
and which through intern alization as a system of expectations (schemata)
forms the basis for an adequate experience. The style is a cultural object
on a higher object level tha n the single work. Whil e the individual work
has one de termined physical manifestation, the style has an infinite number
of such manifestations. While the individual work concretizes a particular
situation, the style concretizes a collection of such situations; in principle
it may concretize a culture in its totality. T he stvlc therefore has a stabi-
lizing purpose in society. It unites the individual products and makes them
157
1;1) It i, d ifficult 10 d~ S<.:ribe the srylc 01
one's own time. because ;1 i. s:ill growing
~ nJ incomplele. It i. therefore neither eny
10 define the probabihry of the form , em-
plcved. When th" numbe r of eoncreee solu-
tion, increase, this bl:oom"" I'O'sible. Thus we
recognize {od u tha t m,.ny of me solutions
of earlv fu net;onali. m ,.r" reb tivelv ban al.
When ~'e lo3y that eauin wor ks rem~i n eabd .
this implies Ih;u their originality is confirmed
rdal i,'~ to a mor e complete undcr sund ing of
the st~' le.
1lJ8 II possesses, howC"C!", a potential possi-
bilit~, for being u ,ed mrrcetl~.
109 Dd inoo mOl;'"" and building types may
facilitate the de", riplion. It i, e..c ntial, how-
ever , tbat they are no t regarded a. absolute
ideals. In the pa,{, norms were w nfused with
wm ks of art .
11 0 We ha ve alread y mention ed Ehren-
zwdli' s mi<con eeption when j(ivi n~ th e second-
Jry orn,llnents prime ; mport" n, ~ .
111 Originality eom im in intt nJrJ Jr ~ia
,i,, 111 frum the most probable. Th ~ deviarior a
arc meanin gful lx:e~ u,e they happen within
r ~~ lY'I~"' , We recall L. B. ~kjer \ excellent
term 'designed un(er.~imy'
appear as parts of a meaningful whole. T he style furth ermore preserves
certain basic intentional poles and secures the cultural contin uity.
The word ' style ' thus denotes 2 system of elements and relations which
appear with varying degrees of probability. In practice it may be convenient
to define the style-concept in terms of the m ost probable structures, to
establish a practicable norm. Deviations from this norm give information,
because information presupposes alternatives. 1I1 The pragmatic probabilities
of the style change with the creation of new work s, and the information
value of a building must be ' measured ' relative to the probabilities valid
at the moment. IIJ A style thus varies in the temporal dimension, and this
'stylistic development ' may take place in different ways, through inner
and outer influences. The style changes from within because it forms a
syntactical system where experiments and new conclusions are possible,
from without because of its use and through assimilation of traits from
other systems. Elements which have been primary may for instance become
lIZ Cherry (op . cit. p. '69) defines '-tl al_
ph abet a. a ' set of altem nives . and a com -
mun iQtion :lI 'selections from the alphabet' .
11 3 Infor mation value. howe ver , should not
be confused with arristic origin ality. Compare
note 10 7 .
114 T he success of Bru nellcschi' s innovations
is surely d ue to his employmcllt of k nown
motives. Many of his followers took over
these mot ives, without, however , understand -
ing their structural possibilities. Thi s i. ex-
emplified by the Badia in Fieso!e where Bro-
nellesque mOllves arc u~d without mutual
eo.ordi nation . Sec also II, 2, note 87.
115 T he first was the Q~ in Renaissance
archi tecture. while !>fe<liaC'\":rJ architectur e
concentr ated on the space-boundaries. He nce
Scd1ma~T may characteriz e cs~ nria! properties
of Mediaeval :uchiteelUre under the hc~ing
WllnJlYlu m~ .

worn-out ' through constant repetition, and the style changes according ly.
The main condition for the acceptance of a new style, or for the develop-
ment of an existing style, is that it is connected with something known ,
that some of its forms are correlated with hum an expectations. Only in
this way can it transmit information. The correlation with a system of 83
expectations may be created through education and through becoming 84
accustomed, but a visual relationship to known forms is usually essential. IH 85
Thi s means that the stylistic development should not take place simulta-
neously on alI formal levels. The form may be stretched ' more on one
level if the others arc left untouched. Sometimes the elements are kept
constant while the relations are changed, at other times the opposite
happens. Most styles are based upon deviations on one particular level, as
for instance the exploitation of the possibilities of the grouping of mass-
and/ or space-d ements, while others repeat the same elementary space~
elements and concentrate upon the articulation of the bounding surfaces.m 50
Others, again, experiment with different space-forms without investigating
their possibilities of being grouped. If zn individual work deviates on
another level t han the normal one, it appears far-fetched ".
A style becomes worn out when its essential structural possibilities are
generally known. When this happens it is only capable of repeating relatively

158
 banal solutions, possibly furnished with secondary embellishments. 1I6 T he 1\6 VulgJr art, therefor' . does not contn-
hute to the stylistic d evelopment.
individual work of art, however, is never worn out because it concretizes
IIi Thi, does not mean, however. that it
an individual situation. 1I7 The style which ' takes over' mostly inherits is . timeless ' , and thai its quality is inde-
certain traits from its worn out predecessor. These arc usually motives pendent of the style it belongs to. 'Time
le"ness ' e~ n only mean that a correct JUCTip.
rather than abstract relations. Large parts of architectural history thus lion i. valid also j n the future. Tile word
exhibit a continuity of motives which participate in changing contexts. Th e b.hinn' i. not the COll'"ene of ' timeless.
ness ' , but derwnes a solul iun wh ich i, only
architecture of our time has by intention thrown all inherited motives of tra nsitory interest and f all.. ou tside the
overboard, and also the relations for that matter. Th e fact that we have general st}'iiSlie developmeot.
recently returned to the study of the experiences of the past, shows that lIS Th e rebtions of symmrtry .and axiality,
howe.-et, were also de valuated in the rhe-
it is difficult or impossible to create a style from nothing. Today we con- toric:' by-outs of th" ninetecmh cen tury .
centrate our interest upon the abstract relations employed in the architec- 119 Only in music h;lS a new formativ e
ture of the past, rather than upon the motives which were thoroughly principle been formulated . W" have in m ind
devaluated in the nineteenth century. m Our time is in general character- Arnold SchOnkrg'S :Method" <kr Kompo-
,itio n mit z wclf nur aufeinander bewg"nen
ized by a 'lack of style' which followed after the ' confusion of styles'. Toneo ' , abo designated ;IS dod ec.aphooy. (See
The forms of modern architecture have never been organized to make Sc!t(inbe:l"g: 'Composition with twelve tOPes',
in Style ,m" Un. . New York 1950. Aho
up a stylistic system. T he need for a new style has even been denied. for Rufer: op. cn.).
instance by Gropius, but we understand that a style is the first prerequisite 120 We u k e over this definition from Band .
for meaningful individual solutions. 119 T he expression ' lack of style ' im- Rufer: up. cil.).
plies that the forms employed do not belong to any system, while con- UI See Werner: op. cit. , f'aS$im .
fusion of styles' means that the forms are used outside the systems where
they belong. We may call the investigation of the stylistic development
'morphology' . 120 T he stylistic development usually goes from diffuse to
articulated structures. Th is corresponds to the fact that a symbol-system
has to develop gradually. It cannot be created at once, but is subject to
trial and error' . 121
Words like ' tradition ' , ' convention ', ' habit" and ' taste', all express
that forms have no meaning outside a system. ' Taste' designates a purely
subjective system, while 'ruling taste ' expresses that the system is public
(this does not prevent if from being in conflict with the existing cultural
symbol-systems). 'Convention' is generally used to express that the forms
are conservative and exhibit a tendency to lag behind the needs they should
serve. ' Tradition ', finally, means that a product exists in a cultural' space'
with connections backwards, forwards and to the sides. Th e term is often
misused to defend the ruling taste. ' Tradition', however, expresses that
every work has to be new and in some aspects different, not to fall outside

7
the never-ending stylistic development. The meaningful new creation al-
ways belongs to tradition while, the traditional, vulgar-conservative pro-
duct is banal or meaningless. III
CoNCLUSION
Th e preceding sections have shown how articulated forms are composed.
We have maintained that topological structures must be considered ' lower '
because the articulation only considers certain limited properties, while
the inner organization of the elements and their comprehensive interrela-
tions are irrelevant. T he development of higher' structures is character-
ized both by the definition of pregnant parts (elements), and by the em-
ployment of comprehensive geometrical or combined relations. We have
furthermore stressed the fact that the capacity of the structures, that is,
their ability to solve building tasks, depends upon their degree of arti-
culation. !" Articulation implies a better adjustment to complex contents,
at the same time as the possibilities for meaningful deviations within the
system increase, that is. its ability to scommunicate. On this basis we may
objectively prove that a symphony by Mozart is. more valuable than a
piece of popular music, just as a Gothic cathedral has a higher quality than
a barn. m It is important to remember, however. that even the most arti-
culated system excludes certain possibilities, whieh may be offered by a
less articulated one. If these possibilities are needed, the inarticulate system
has to be preferred. Simple tasks, such as dwellings and farms, keep a
relatively invariant character in spite of all cultural changes. They are
therefore served by simple, fundamental formal structures which only to
a limited extent participate in the general stylistic development. T hese
structures apparently have a more ' true' and ' honest ' character than the
more complex higher structures, and have therefore been taken as a source
of inspiration in a time dominated by devaluated symbols. We understand.
however, that the higher structures are able to concretize a wider range of
cultural aspects and that OUI time needs a new stylistic system to fight the
formal anarchy which has existed for almost 200 years. Attempts are made,
and the concrete contributions are numerous. but without an exhaustive
understanding of the architectural form we may never reach our goal.
160
III T he words' conservauve ' and ' raclical'
are usually employed in a very . confused
manner , as it bas never been made clear
what the WOfd. ' consc:rre' and 'change ' im-
port. To (()lUI;rve and 10 change are not oppo-
sites. t!eeausoe a cbange which does not to a
certain extent cons."."" , is a meaningless ru p
ture . AnalogOll'(I', a conservation which does
not allow for chan ges il petrifying. l r is
essential to realize that all objects participate
in always new situations to which thay have
to adapt . \Ve never perceive or concretize
lite same object IwXe , but always lite ' ~e '
object in a DeW liru.atioD, lItat is, a different
intermediary object . If we wut to conserve
certain objeeu from the past, this must always
be done by new means. "T ruth " has to be
conquered over ~ over a~in 4d i"ji"it..", .
A blind imit:uion. therefore, docs. not eee-
ser ve anj1h!ll.g. but de valuates the original
valUe!.
IH .. .. the structure of the machine or the
organism is an index of the performance that
we may expect from it.' (N. Wiener : c-:
krn ~tiCi 41111 Socidy, London 1954, p. 57).
124 Today we wu:ally react agaimt such
comparisons. niey are, howev er , necessary 10
prC"O'eDt our culrure frvm ending in an anarch y
of values,
4. Technics

In the followi ng we do not intend to give a survey of the technical prob- I A text-beck of this t~ U f . Hess :
Ko" rtru{ tio" "" d Form ,m &"tm. Stull'
lems of building. OUf task is only to render an account of the Tole of gart 19-49.
construction in the architectural totality, and with this purpose we should 1 A h,uwbook on t hi> b.n is is M. Mit ug ,
tr y to arr ive at a definition of the technical dimension. 8"u k0J> ttrukt;0,,,ldm: . G iitcnloh tW.
The technical dimension is usually treated in two different ways. Some 3 As ta r as we know, CUrt Siegel is the
take the materials as their point of departure and talk about 'wooden onl y one who has attem pted 10 understand
the technical d.imension .:II a collection of
constru ction' , and ' reinforced concrete constru ction ' , a classification which techn ical Iylt~m s , that is, from a ItrUClural
is employed in architectural practice and which appears in many hand- point of view (Slruklurjorm ~ " J~r moJer"en
Ardli/ek' ur, Miinchen 191'0). In English
books. 1 Others take their point of departure in what the construction does. srrucrure ' and ' construction ' are often used
It gives us founda tions, walls, floor and ceiling, staircases, doors, and as synonyms. We find it conve nient 10 give
"nroctur e ' a more gener al meaning , such as
windows. AU these part s of the building may be carried out in different ' interrel ation of parts ' .
materials. ~ In our opinion it is neither satisfactory to take the materials
nor the above-mentioned ' elements ' as a point of departure for an inves-
tigation of building construction. In both cases we arrive at a fragmentary
knowledge without really having understood the term technical system '. 3
With this term we designate an ordered repetition of a limited number
of techn ical dements. T he d ements can be made up of one or more
materials. T he simplest constructional method ful filling this criterion is
masonry of cut stone or brick. To explain the importance we give to
the term, we have to anticipate some semantical considerations.
The construction is a necessary means of solving the building tasks.
We have seen that the building tasks are ordered, that is, they may be
described in terms of a collection of interrelated factors. T he building
task, for instance. usually demands an ordered repetition of defined di-
mensions. The formal structure also depends upon the ordered repetition
of precise dements. T he construction can only serve these structures by
possessing a corresponding (or related) order. Adjustment to an order
necessarily presupposes order. But the technical dimension also exhibits an
 immanent tendencytowards order. It is difficult to build a house with 4 T h is does not imply that the cheapest
const ruction ne ee,,;u-ily possesses thc highest
dissimilar pieces of material, especially if the house should have a regular degre e of ord er. Rath er we may ~"ert that
shape. It is also practical to carr y through a certain standardization of the ord cr is eco nomic al if we compare several
.<lIl ilf llctory solutions to the same building
technical elements. A rational prod uction of a limited num ber of parts task .
will reduce the waste to a minimum, and the process of construction itself 5 Sec Norberg _Schulz;: 'Nervi... ', pp. 30 ff .
is simplified through a repetition of the same operations. T he economical 6 When we t.:lh the conecpt of ' tech nie~l sys-
factor therefore also supports the wish for technical order. 4 Finally , statical tcm ' as t he point of departure for our account
calculation demands that the construction should have a certain regularity, of the technical dimension , it is to i ntegrate
it more easily in t he architectur al theory . For
both because more favourable statical conditions result, and because the the arcni/u t it is essential to reg ard thc
calculation of an irregular structure is difficult or impossible. Any structure techn ical d imen,ion in thi, way a, he ha s to
solvc t he bu ildi ng task as an int egrat ed whole.
of a certain size has to be based upon a repetition of parti cular statical
i Domed clay-huts arc know n on reliefs
relationships. In a dome over a circular plan, all the segments running from Nine'ch, and are still used in Syria.
from the periphery to the centre are essentially alike; a barrel vault may (See L. Velthcim -Lotmm : Kleine Wd lg e.
"'h ichu du <tadtilCh ~n WOhllhl1l1Ul , Heidel-
be subdivided in equal arches, and skeleton stru ctures repeat the same ' berg ' 952, pr. 43, 48).
elements throughout. 5 We understand that constructional order implies a 8 Tech nical systems based on the r ight angle
repetition of equal element s. The word ' element' also covers the dimensions are of pr imc importance because of the adap-
tability of rcctangu lar space-cells. (Sec Yell
and materials employed. 6
heim-umum : op . dr., pp . 50 ff .).
The technical systems may be divided into classes with characteristic
properties. In addition to the classes proper, we know ' amorphous ' con-
structions which are common in primitive archit ecture. Clay and other
plastic materials are used to make forms of a topological character, or
unwo rked stones are employed to the same purpose. i Such amorphous 86
constructions offe r very limited possibilities for the variation of the spatial
forms and sizes and for the placing of openings. It is interesting, however,
to notice that even such primitive methods show an immanent tendency to-
wards geometrical forms. T he technical systems proper came into existence
through the development of building method s which were adapted to more
differentiated building tasks and forma l structures. T he systems may con-
veniently be divided into two classes: massiuc systems and skeleton systems .
Both classes have many variants, and there exist transitory types and com-
bined systems. Both the basic system types serve two purposes: the building
of bounding walls, and the covering of the spaces formed in this way.! We
therefore have to distinguish between enclosing and covering systems. It often
happens that these aspects melt together in one complete techn ical system,
but often the two problems are taken care of by different types of system.

r62
M ASSIVE SYSTEMS 9 W~ know vu y ~ nde n t massive systems.
Tn~ first real system is the polygonJI ma-
,<,nry. T he Romans developed to the full the
A massive system is defined as consisting of elements which are simulta- possibilities of massive construction. (See M.
neously bounding and supporting. All the elements of the massive system, E. Bbke: Raman COMlrI,elion in Iialy 1/11 .
therefore, have the same technical purpose. The elements of a massive \Va,hingtun 1947-59; also G. Lugli : L1 T h.
nie<1 Edili: ia Roman" . RomJ ' 957).
enclosing system are thus (approximately) isotropic masses, which arc 10 Wood i. the only exception. In leg-
either built up through addition of subordinate elements (such as bricks), wnnruetiun Ih~ wood i , U5~d to form a maSS
or cast as a monolithic mass which may be decomposed analytically into 87 ive sySle m. For covering ' p,u;n. wood is
usually employed according to the skeleton
equal sections. 9 T he same holds true for a massive covering system. While prmciple.
the enclosing system offers full freedom for the formation of space-forms, It See Xc rberg-Schulz : ' ~er,i .. . .

the covering system is highl y limiting. A horizontal covering depends

upon the tensile strength of the material employed. This resistance is rather
low in most of the materials used in massive systems." Massive enclosing
systems therefore usually have been combined with coverings of the ske-
leton type (beams, girders, trusses). Massive covering systems proper, how-
ever, are exemplified by domes and vaults, where the material is subject
to compression. The Roman method of concrete construction realized a 88
complete massive system permitti ng the covering of large spaces and
offering a certain freedom of space-forms and placing of openings. Thi s
freedom has become complete with present-day reinforced concrete where
the reinforcement makes it possible to guide the forces. Reinforcement,
however, often implies an introduction of the skeleton principle, as the
mass loses its isotropic character. Also for other reasons the skeleton is a
natural consequence of modern concrete. II
A real massive system is thus characterized by the approximate equi-
valence of all the technical elements. Its surfaces and masses, therefore,
arc in principle monotonous and inarticulate, while the space-forms, be-
cause of the covering problems, are limited to a few elementary shapes.
The size and placing of openings is also restricted, and the openings acquire
figure-character with the neutral mass serving as a ground. A certain
articulation is possible through a sculptural ' treatment of the elements.
The massive construction can only serve building tasks possessing a simple
functional structure. The architecture of the past has very often been a flight
against the limitations of the massive systems. The building tasks have gene-
rally demanded a richer structure, and to satisfy this demand the massive
construction has been covered with fictive members giving the illusion of a 89
90
skeleton construction. II Or one has tried to transform the massive wall
50
into a skeleton. U T he insufficiency of the massive systems thus has been 3.
counteracted by an approach to the skeleton system. T his fact explains 91
the aversion of modern architects to massive construction, and it is natural
that we no longer construct illusory skeletons when modern technics makes
it possible to carry them out in reality. 14
S K EL ETOS SYSTEMS
A skeleton system is defined through the distinction of bounding and 8 1
supporting elements. It therefore consists of primary and secondar y parts, 92
and has immediately a much richer surface-structure than the massive
system. The openings participate in the system instead of being relatively
accidental perforations. As the bounding surfaces are independent of the
supporting members, the size and the form of the spaces may be treated
with great freedom. Thi s freedom also comprises the height and the
covering of the building. T russes and frames of steel, or shells, corrugated
slabs, and rib-constructions in reinforced concrete permit the covering of 93
areas of a previously unknown size. 15
The primar y members of a skeleton system form a tri-dimensional
grid which may be more or less regular. There arc several reasons for
making it regular, that is, to carry through a clear construction ", 16 Firstly
it is possible to arrive at an economical solution through standardization
of the parts. Secondly the clear construction possesses a forma l order which
may be exploited. It seems natural to let the construction collaborate with
the forma l demand for articulation. The skeleton can be based upon right-
or obliq ue angles, and will accordingly have a varying ability to adapt itself
to different functions and building-sites. In principle we may distinguish 9.
between two types of skeletons : <. embracing' and <. repetitious' . 17 T he 100
embracing skeletons are used to span large continuous spaces, and mostly
form a closed whole. An embracing skeleton consisting of transversal
frames, however, may be extended by adding more frames; it is 'open ' in
two directions. " Repetitious skeletons arc formed through the addition of
tri-dimensional grid units. The size of a repetitious skeleton is indeterminate.
164
12 The Romans enriched their archi tectural
form in this way. and the pr inciple became
normal in Renais... nce and Baroque archi-
tecture.
Il Th is h.lpp"ned .J.1rGd y i n the temple.
on Malta. Goth ic architemlre aden t"" heS!
example of a skeleton ccns tructicn gradually
'Iibera:ed' from a massive synem .
14 Real skeletons were ab o know n in the
past, in wood as well a. in ' tone. Th e wooden
skeletons often had a rich and d ider entiared
structure. bur wen: limited by the inability
of the marcri:Ll to form mgt: buildings. Large
wooden . kdetorts were also avoided because
of rheir liabiliry to catch fire. We should.
howC\'er. stress the facr that till: wooden
ronst( U(;Uons have played a more important
form ative rok in history than struct ures in
' tone. (For the wooden origin of the Doric
order sec A. v. Ger bn : Gnam md te A"t
J~IU , Stuttgart 1959, Pp- 3Sa fl .).
IS A ,h ell of reinforced concrete is a rna..
iye construction. When covering com plex
plans. hoW(:Ytt. a di vision in primal]' and
~ndar)' memben will .-.:suit . Th e work of
~eryi seem, 10 indicate th:1I the simple rns ss-
ive .hell, onl}' signify the transfer of tradi
tiona ! form, to a new material, while tru e
reinforced concrete structures acquire skeleton
character .
16 T he term was introd uced b)' ~fi es van
dcr Robe. who intend. a regu lar ecnstr octicn
where tnc ... me dimensinn. ue n:pt2ted, or
changed in an ord ered wa). It is essential
that the con.rr UClion . hould form a logical
"hole. (See Norherg.$<;hulz : ' T alks... ,).
17 See Norberg.Schu ll" Mies van d er Rohes
klassicisme", Byggektm st 1959; also "Nervi.. .'.
13 An embracing skeleton becomes cern-
pleldy closed through centr alization, Enr in.
sunee in the Palazzi delle Sport in Rome by
:'<erYi.
One of the most interesting possibilities offered by the skeleton system is the
formation of flexible stru ctures. The embracing or closed skeletons must be
understood as special cases within a general theory of skeleton systems. 19
T he secondary parts can be of many different kinds. Th ey may for
instance form a complete secondary skeleton which embraces new subor-
dinate elements. Such a secondary skeleton becomes necessary when the
primary skeleton has very large spans. Wind-pressure and the need for
attaching windows and other bounding elements demand a reduction of
19 Buckmineee F lIlJ~r has for ycars tr ied
to build domes by means of skeleto ns. Rather
tha n contributing to the th eory of skeleton
systems, he l ies new tech nical possibilities 10
a conv entional for lIt.
2tI The w ind .br :acing a n tx, tak en a re of
by rnalJi elemen t. Th is. boWCT . would
red uce th e adn.ntag.. of lkeldon construe
don. at the ume time :;IS th e starie conditiofU
of th e skeleto n ar e eb angro in an irregular
~, .

the spans. 20 A secondary skeleton articulates the structure. The secondary 94 21 The 5O-al1ed 'cumin-w all' exemplifies a
eoeri ng eleme nt. For an excellent diK union
dements proper may be: divided in couermg, filling , and free-standing
of the form al possibilities of skeletons we
d ements. A free plan usually demands all three types. If the grid-units refet 10 Siegel: op. cit .
of the skeleton are adjusted to the functions, only covering and filling 22 Kon rad Wachsmana reg ard s th e joi nt 1$
d ements have to be: employed. 21 But the functions are usually so complex the basic problem in architecture . (See Wt nat -
punkt im Bauel/, Wi~sbaden 1959.) Al a
that a regular skeleton is unable to adjust itself completely. Free-standing mat ter of principle we find it inconvenient
elements become necessary. to sta rt with a detail , and cann ot accept th is
poin t of view.
We may also imagine skeletons consisting of flexible grid-units. Through
n See J. [oedicke: G~rth;tht~ ti" modernell
an ordered contraction or enlargement the adjustment to the functions may ArcMuktur, Stuttgar t 1958, pp - 124 ff.
become perfect. In this case free-standing elements are superfluous. It is
doubtful, however, whether such a system can compete with an embracing
skeleton where the subdivision of the spaces is taken care of by means
of free-standing or movable partitions.
A problem of great importance when planning skeleton systems is the
technical connection of the individual parts, the so-ca l ed joint'. The
joint determines the stru ctural possibilities of the skeleton and therefore
belongs to the theory of skeleton systems. But it would carry us too far
to consider this problem in further detail. 22
T he introduction of technical skeleton systems has brought forth a
discussion whether one should 's how the construction ' or Dot. 23 In general
an accentuation of the primary skeleton is implied. But we also know of
attempts at letting all the technical elements ' express' their role within
the system. T he problem is formal rather than technical. T here is of course
no technical reason for emphasizing particular members, for instance by
means of different colours. But a logical realization of a skeleton system 94
naturally leads to a certain articulation, often because the primary and
secondary elements have to be made of different materials. Th e question
 then arises whether one should stress fur ther this articulation, or rather
try to counteract it. Both solutions are possible. To repress the primary
skeleton would mani fest an intention contrary to the one which prod uced
the fictive orders of classical architecture. In the past the construction was
'enr iched ' because it did not satisfy the building task . We cannot say
that this was wrong. It only becomes wrong when the technical means to
escape fictive members are available. The demand for' technical honesty '
therefore has not an absolute character. If today, for practical or econo-
mical reasons, we use an unnecessarily rich skeleton system to serve a
simple task, it is neither wrong to repress or moderate this structure. But
the skeleton systems are so flexible that this adjustment can usually happen
without going against the nature of the system in question. We may for
instance avoid emphasizing the primary members visually. If we instead
want to ' show the construction ' , this has to be done by means of a clear 94
definition of each element. 24
While the massive systems have simple and relatively amorphous pro-
perties, the skeleton systems offer the richer possibilities for articulation. 25
Because of its repetitious and hierarchical properties we may characterize
the skeleton system as 'architectural ', while the massive system is ' sculp-
tural '. But the skeleton system ' an sich ' is schematic and needs a sculp-
tural treatmen t of its members. Modern concrete-technique, in particular
as developed by Nervi, realizes a unique synthesis of the possibilities of 93
the skeleton and massive systems, where continuity and plastic shape
are combined with repetition and hierarchical order. The technical revo-
lution of the last 100 years therefore becomes something more than a
technical revolution. It has given the technical dimension a new role in
the architectural totality. The technical systems of the past were relatively
simple and could never playa leading part. We know exceptions, but
usually the construction was an insufficient means to create architectural
order. The skeleton systems, however, have such a rich immanent order
that it would be foolish not to exploit the possibilities they offer. The clear
construction not only gives coherence to the building because of its repe-
tition throughout, but also makes possible the articulation which previously
was achieved by means of fictive members. This is the new and decisive 76
role of the technical dimension in the architectural totality. 26
166
24 In his later work Mies Van d er Rohe has
to a high degree succeeded in such a ' d d i_
nitio n'. The project for an Administration
Building at the I. I. T . offers a good example.
The primary frame, cut aero" the building
and are completely shown in the shoner fa-
cades. Th e CO nCave ,ide of the steel members
are here exposed to give the frame a plastic,
amp hasized (primary) character. In the long
facades, which are co,'ering, the flat ,id es of
the members f1u,h. In other build ings wherc
all the fa~ade, arc wvering. Mies tr eats all the
visihle ' tee! in the latter way. (Stt P. lohnson .
Miu van du Rah ~, p. 139; also Norberg-
Schulz : ' Husbygging med stalskjelctt ' , Byg-
g~kunsl 1956).
25 T he two types of system may of course
be mixed to form a construction whieh is
massive in some parts and exhibits ,keleton
properties in oth ers. Such a 's ynthesis' , how_
ever , has to be done on the basis of dearly
showing which type of system the single d e-
ments bdong to, and without using the Same
material in contr adicting wap.
16 Notberg-Schulz : ' Nervi. .. ' pau;m. See
also foedicke : op. cit. Th e conccpt of d ear
construction not only refers to skeletons, but
to any Strong Gcstall whieh has a technical
basis.
 5. Semantics

In the previous chapters we have rendered an account of the different I Mics van dec Rohe sars : Th e purpose
th e building =v~ is :alW:lrs changing, bul
pole-objects which may ent er the architectu ral totality. Before we can we cannot :lfford to pull th e buildin g d ow n.
discuss th e architectural totality as such, we have to investigate the interre- Tb eretoe e we put Sulliv:m' s s1og::on ' fm m fol-
lows function ' upside down, :md con.~ :I.
lations between the established pole-classes. practical :1. 00 econom ical sFe inlO which we
T he word ~ semantics' denotes the relation between a sign and wh at fil the fuoctioos. (Nocberg-Schulz: T:allu.. ...)
it designates. When we employ this term in connection with architecture, 2 Th e e"preuion ' to .ruve :I problem ' ecr-
m:l.lIy mcans tc find :I correc t form . If th e
it is to assert that the dimensions of building task, form, and technics are
focm does not fit, it is evident that the prob-
interrelated, and that the formal and technical realization manifests a Inn hu nol: M n .ruVM . If :1.11. forms would
task, a 'content ' . T he aim of the scmanrical investigation is to explain fit :III tasks, the .:I.t"chirm beromcs uaoeces-
sarY. "nd architecture d issolees.
these inter relations, and also to present certain conclusions about the
3 Th is ..-as lfpi.eal duriog the ' confusion
capacity of formal and technical systems, that is, their ability to solve of styl~ ' , bur even xby buikl iDg is oft en
tasks. In general. this implie s that we should answer the question wheth er an arbitrary play d isguised :l.S ' or~ ' .:I.t"(bi
lectu re .
particular for ms fit particular tasks. The famous slogan ' form follows
fun ction' expresses the basic importance of this question. It is usually
maintained tha t the definition of the fun ctions (the task) should precede
the (form al) realization , but recently it has also been asserted th at it is
better first to make a practical form into which the fun ctions are fitted
afterwards. I In both cases th e need for a corresponden ce between th e tw o
dimensions is expressed. Form s are not im provised as a free play, and we
cannot fit the functions to accidentally existing forms. T his state of affairs
should be self-evident; " but often , however, we notice that the practising
architects do not conceive their form s in accordance with a clearly defined
building task . Rather th ey employ foreign' forms borrowed from th e
past or th e present. 3 Such solutions usually stem from too narrow a defi-
nition of the problem , that is, onl y one aspect of the building task has
been considered. T he emergency housing in N orway after the war , for
instance, was dominated by the simple need for physical contro l. Better

one-family houses, instead, are: often determi ned by the Imitation of tra- ~ w hee the door ",~s ~ symbolic form . it
meant something morc rhan a ph)".ic:L1 ~ion
ditional models which originally represented solutions to quite different to 0 !"'11 or close a door .
building tasks. The se: houses, therefore, man ifest a narr ow and dubious
in tention of irrelevant cult ural pole-objects. To defend the assertion that
there should exist a correspondence: between the: solution and the task, it
ough t to be enough to point to the: fact that any function has its ' structure '
which necessarily has to be taken into consideration. Obviously we do not
chop wood with a hammer, but it should be just as evident that we: do
not eat pastries in a Gothic cathedr al. We: could also express this state of
affairs by saying that architecture not only frames the functions, but
actually participates in our activities. We walk 0 11 the floor, we close doors
to be: alone, and we: open the windcvv for ventilation. What has been said
above about the perception (usc) of objects, shows that thi s participatio n
is 'lot merely physical. The thin gs arc always perceived with a meaning,
because they participate in activities which belong to a series of interrelated
object-levels. " T he perceived meaning may also result from our having
learned the conven tional symbolic import of things. An y house, thus, im-
mediately symbolizes aspects of the cultural objects basic to a form of life.
We have also sugge:sted that the spatial organization of a building should
have .t structural similarity ' to certain aspects of the: building task, such
as a complex of more: or less interconnected actions. We: may conclude:
that the: formal levels ought to re:presem a system of functional levels.
If we investigate these problems somewhat more closely, we will find
that there arc several kinds of semantical relations determining the archi-
tectural totality.

SE.M." NTICAL kE LATtONS

Firstly there exists an empirical connection between forms and contents.

Form s in general manifest what can be done relatite to them . A landscape:
looks ope:n or closed because its forms expre:ss our possible movement s.
To the: peasant the: rocks and the: mountains are: ' ugly ' because he cann ot
cultivate: them. As long as the feeling for such empirical connections was
alive, man built with the landscape. Industrialized man, instead, believes
that the technical means enable: him to make everything everywhere, which

168
 5 One migh t ohject th:1( the Il~roque by .
implies that all empirical connections become meaningless. 5 The result is
o UIl Jl-o went ' agaim t ' m e lanJsc apc. Th is
a loss of ability to unify the buildings with their surroundings. T he em- is true. but we should rcmcmlxr that the
pirical connections, in other words, import that the architectural forms Baroque la~-(lut i, a complete artifici~l land-
scape in iudf. Today we ha\'e neither a
are properties of a larger whole, that they arc functionally connected with " natural" nor an artificial ' ord er, but a
actions and with the environment. T his is not the same as a normal pheno- ehae ue rcpctit >oo of "' parate elem erns.
menal relationship. Phenomena may app~aT together without forming an (, S the KCtioo on Object and descrip-
tion ' (Pari. I. ch. 3).
operating whole. T he empirical connections, therefore, could also be charac-
; Scdlma ~T uses th~ concepts somewha t
terized as a "causal connection ' , where the architectural object forms an d ifferently (Oil' Entztd,,"'C... pp. t OO tf).
active part. Physical cont rol is only possible by means of this scmantical A Certa in building types in the tnwnscape
relation. We have already suggested that a building may be understood may (hus be conventional signs for part icular
as a filter' which transforms the given geographical ' conditions. We ie snunions,

exclude or let through light and heat according to our needs, and change
the spatial structure of the environment to facilitate the exerciseof particular
functions. By means of "filters' (doors, windows, walls) we obstruct or
regulate the movement from one place to another, and hinder optical and
acoustical disturbances. Or we connect two ' places' by an artificial means
which secures an ordered "traffic' .
Th e description of the semantical dimension, however, is not finished
by pointing out the empirical connection. The investigation proper actually
starts when we ask how such a connection is established. In other words,
why arc certain pole-objects capable of forming an architectural totality?
T he answer to this question leads to two dearly defined semantical rc-
lations." Firstly a form may mediate or represent another because the two
have common properties {t strucrural similarity'); secondly a form may
represent another on the basis of a convention. Th e first case is well
covered by the German word A bbildung, while the second is a ' symboliza-
tion I in the narrower sense of the word. " The contentional sign is by
definition a whole whose own structure is irrelevant. It represents another
whole whose structure is also semantically irrelevant. T he conventional
sign, therefore, acts formally as an cle ment , Th is does not mean that it
has to be a subordinate motive; a building or even a whole city may also act
as a conventional sign. ~ Th e conventional sign can also be a characteristic
building type, a ground-plan, or a particular space-form , etc. We under-
stand that it is linked with the symbol-milieu, just as the empirical con-
nection helps to constitute the physical milieu. T he symbol-milieu may
be based upon signs which in principle are freely chosen, provided they 9 We could comp are w it h the ' poken lan_
guag e whe re some wor d, have onom alOp""'tic
are common (public). We should, however, point to the fact that the con- root'.
ventional signs employed arc usually abstracted from an original state of to Children ord er cardboard d isc, of nry-
structural similarity between a form and a building task. " The dome 31 ing sizes a, a family_ The larg est d i,e' arc
th ~ paren t" others are aunt s and un cles, and
originall y portrayed heaven, and only later became a conventional sign the sm alles arc childr~n (See Wern~r : op . cit.) .
with a more general sacred character , assigning a certain ' digni ty ' to J1 Scient ific d escrip tions ha ve become mor e
the architectural solution. A form which is exclusively based on conven- and more ab,tract , but w~ ,h ould r emember
tha t the general aim i, alw ays the Slm e, th at
tional signs, therefore, consists in an addi tion of separa te meanings , without
i,. the [ram btion of a ,tructu re int o anoth er
considering their interrelationships. We may still use the word 'form ' me<:l ium .
because of the topological organiza tion of the signs. We have seen, how-
ever, that the building tasks usually possess an order which trans cends the
topological relations, and therefore requests a certain co-ordination of the
formal clements. When the forms accordingly are brought to correspond
with the structure of the task, we talk about' structural similarity '.
The iconic form is defined in terms of its stru cture and fits all the
content s which have a corresponding structure. Causally determined or
conventional elements may be parts of an iconic form. We cannot main tain
that a door (a ' filter ') portrays anything, but the more comp rehensive
spatial structure to which the door belongs may have a logical form which
corresponds to certain action-structures. The concept of ' structural simi-
larity ' has been explained before. We should, however, repeat that struc-
tural similarity (isomorphy) is basic to any description. " A scientific
description aims at representing a structure wh ich is characteristic of the
object of the description. To carry out the description the scientist uses
conventional symbols which are put in the necessary relations to each other.
The single symbols, for their part, are also defined in terms of structures.
Conventional signs, therefore, are ' abbreviations' of a structural descrip-
tion. II To be able to talk about structural similarity, it is necessary first
to render an account of the structural properties of our basic dimensions
of comparison. In the previous chapters we have tried to do this, and we
have introduced several concepts common to the dimensions, such as
' element' and ' relation ' .
The iconic relation is of the greatest importance because it makes the
concretization of relevant intermediary objects possible. The cathedral has
to be understood as a very complex icon which represents the decisive

17
higher objects of the period. " Th e iconic form may be more or less 33 12 Scdlmayr: Di~ E"w,"hung... , pr. 95 IJ.

directly portraying, in the literal sense of the word. The seven steps of H See E. Unger: Babylo" . di," hdlig," Stadt .
AIKl ScdJmayr : Architd {tur als abbiU,""d,"
the Ziggurat ' portray ' the seven heavens which make up the cosmos. IJ 95 Kunrr . p. 19.
Th e church, on the other hand, does not portray ' the Mystical Body of 14 See K. Adam: Katalicism~"s indn st,"
Christ ', but only some of its manifestations. H The iconic relation was V"'J~" , KO~nhavn
' 945. pp. 36 tf.
extremely important in the architecture of the past, and is probably just IS Scdlmayr : A,ch;~ktur als IJbbilJ~" d,"
Kunst.
as ancient as the causal connection. " We have mentioned that the column 34
16 Kaschnitz - Wcin~g : Die mittelmeer-
originally was erected to represent the phallus, while the cave represented 35 iseh,"" ..., prlSsim.
the womb from which the new life comes. 16 The combination of these 17 Wh en Rop.l palaces are mad e !ym met.
two iconic elements created the first real works of architecture. In the rica.! . it i. because the , )mmctricaJ. foem has
the character of a romplete ' wot"ld' which
megalithic temples on Malta the hardness and power of the stone is stressed 36 ....a nts 10 dominale in !urroundings.
by the definition of straight lines and plane surfaces. While the dolm en
and the cyclopic walls directly' exhibit their symbolic weight and per-
manence, the Maltese wanted to represent this content by means of par
ticular lines and directions. The force of gravity was abstracted visually
from the rude, inarticulate matter. T his abstraction furnished the basis
for the development of an architectural symbol-system comprising con-
ventional signs. We understand that an architectural symbol-system consists
of conventional signs abstracted from iconic forms. Th e signs form a part
of the cultural tradition and may be used over and over again to make
up ever new formal structures. Th ese structures represent more or less
complex building tasks and are therefore iconic signs on a higher level.
Th e higher structures can also become conventional signs. When we talk
about the 'space-conception' of an epoch, we refer to formal principles
which have become conventional signs, and determine many different
architectural totalities, giving these a characteristic common stamp. While
the iconic representation in principle is special or insdhaft , the conventional
symbol-system furnishes general elements which make it possible to solve
diffa~n t building tasks with the same basic means. T o illustrate what has
been said above , we will give some examples of conventional and iconic
symbolization.
Social roles are represented by means of conventional forms. The royal
castle is a building type fulfilling this purpose. Th e representing form
may of course possess a structural similarity to some of the functions
performed by the role, but this is not necessary. 17 In no case can a role

'7'
as a whole be represented through structural similarity, as it is sure to U See W. Braunfcl>: op. cit.

comprise properties which are independent of the building tasks connected 19 For instance in the cily hall of Oslo
where a 13rg~ hall is placed bet ween tWO
with it. Difference in status, however, ma y be represented through struc- ol1iee rower. \\'~ do not , how ever , imp ly
tural similarity. T his, for instance, is the case when a firm gives the that th i, is the best w ar of solvin.': t he
prob lem.
managing director an office clearly different from the ' cd ls' of the em-
10 Duri ng the Renai "a nc ~ Euclidean frag .
ployees. Collectivities, therefore, may be represented in terms of their ments w~re projected on th ~ surfaC~ 1 10 ma ni_
status-structure, as well as through conventional signs. \ Ve have asserted fl,t the ' . parial conception ' of the epoch .
that the mediaeval city-wall was an expression of civitas. As the city-wall 28 21 For im ranee in the D reifaltigk citskircbc
b~' Geor" P ientzenhofe r in Kappcl.Wa ld laucn
physically embraces the urban collectivity, we cannot regard it as a purely (16HS), (Sec E. Hem pel : (kse!lie!lu <irr arm.
conventional sign ; this, however, was the case when the city-gate or a 97 sellrn 8.JttkUtlst, Miinehen 19~9. p. ~S9) '
single tower took over the representing function. 13 A town-hall is normally :Z Su Scdlm.ayr: An:hiuktur als abb'/Jr" Jr
used for festive occasions as well as administrative purposes. T his functional K",,.t . Th~ Hindu tempI" is ' die plaseiscbe
Schilderun g einer tcrrnscnfiirmigcn Him -
structure may, as already suggested, be expressed in the general formal melsstad r ' (p. 3).
lay-our." In the past towers and domes were well-known conventional
signs for town-halls, churches, and castles. As our building tasks manifest
a system of institutions, it is of decisive importance to develop correlated
architectural themes' . Social situations should also have an appropriate
architectural frame. The space-form of a lecture hall expresses the situation
that one person is talking to a group of others, whereas a room for seminars
is determined by a different social situation : several persons work together
in a circle.
Cultural objects are also represented in both ways. Most obvious is a
representation by means of an abstract sign or a characteristic attribute.
A logico-mathematical object such as Euclidean space may be represented
as a co-ordinate system (structural similarity), but a fragment of the co-
ordinate system can also serve as a conventional sign for the pole-object. " 85
T he intension of logico-mathematical objects in architecture usually mani-
fests higher cosmological or religious objects. T he latter can also be
represented directly. T he Trinity, for instance, has been ' portrayed ' in 96
church-build ings by means of a triangular plan with three apses. 21 T he
cathedral also represents a complex of religious and cosmological objects,
and the representation of single cosmological ideas is common in archi-
tectural history. " Cosmological objects are often combined intentionally
with empirical facts. for instance in the convex Capitoline Square by Michel- 019
angelo, where the caput m undi idea is united with the kn owledge that

1]2
the earth is a sphere; " Ideological objects are also often represented. The 03 Sec :-lorbag.Scbulz, Midufi1." g~fo ..
:~ Sec H . A. }lc d,: ' Retr.,;,.t to Moscow ',
democracy of our time is reflected in the equality of all building tasks,
in A""i:rnu,,,l R~Mr"' , }t1rch 1953.
an idea which frequently leads to an anarchy of architectural forms. But ~~ Th is" Inc
case in man y of du: housing
if democracy in principle docs not admit difference in absolute status, devd opm.,nts u rric:<! out in Norw ay :aha the
S<"<:ooo wmld war.
this does not imply that we sh~uld not be able to distinguish between a
]f) Th is is the method of Mie. van der
church and a petrol station. In the Soviet Union a particular type of Rohe.
' skyscraper' has become a conventional sign for ideological objects. 24 ~7 T his is the method of early fun etion;,.lism .
Finally, we have to mention that economical objects may be intended, 26 Th i. method still belongs to the future,
both by letting a building look more expensive than it is, and by mani- but ;t seems to be: the onl y one which m;,.y
counteract the incre>sing .,nvironment;,.! ch:>oo.
festi ng a difficult economy through a poor and primitive forma l structure."
2j In the. udl itc>:tur., of the Renaissance
Summing up we may say that the physical milieu is taken care of by the ' controlling ' m:oss i. ' d lXOJ;,. tro' witb
forms causally connected with the: functions, and by giving the organization ficti"", ordas wbich b;,.vc ;,. symboliting func.
tion.
of these forms a structural similarity to the functional structure. The
symbol-milieu is satisfied by conventional elements whose organization
also exhibits a structural similarity to the structure of the higher objects
comprised by the building task in question.
The exactness of the structural similarity should be discussed briefly.
Through generalization we may establish classes of building tasks and
develop a corresponding formal system (style). Such a general formal
system will only allow for an approximate. adjustment to the individual
building task. 26 We could instead let the formal structure fit the individual
situation 'like a glove' . In this case we obtain a perfect immediate satis-
faction, but also a certain lack of visual order." The real solution, therefore,
seems to be the creation of double or triple structures where one level
remains fairly constant and expresses that the building belongs to a class
(type), while the other levels are adjusted to the individual situation. 28
A building task usually comprises functional, social, and cultural poles.
Th e form is correlated with these poles through different semantical rela-
tions. T he same form can thus be causally connected with the functions
and represent conventionally a cultural object (e. g. the column). The
formal structure may also be composed in such a way that some d ements
satisfy the physical milieu, while others belong to the symbol-milieu. 29
The semantic relations may even vary within the single formal level, A
semantical analysis of an architectural totality, therefore, is often a very

'73

compl icated affair. In any case we have to reject architectural theories
which ' explain" the relation task-means in terms of a single principle.
So far, we have only considered the building task and the formal
structure. HO\v does the technical dimension enter the scmantical investi-
gation? A technical solution is obviously never based on conventions. It is
either satisfactory or not. 30 This means that causal connection and struc-
tural similarity are the only semantical relations possible in this context.
Both form and technics arc abstractions from the total realization. Nor mally
the building task is solved by means of forms which are realized tech-
nically 'afterwards' T he technical dimension, therefore, only symbolizes
oia the form. 31 Even the demand fer physical control is satisfied via the
form, as the controlling techn ical elements (' hirers' ) have to be ordered
relative to each other. T he form can only be omit ted if we content ourselves
30 Thi s does not me~ns that me technical
,
wlution i, univocal, M Ol[ tasks h~ ye "," Ycra!
utilbetory 'olu tions. Among these lome may
be . conventional' and other> 'radical'. This ,
of course, docs not imply that thc w oven
t io n ~ l solutions arc CO rL YentirL nal ,igTIJ.
31 Whcn we e Xp"rie rL~e a con,t ruction as
"beautiful", we experience formally. Materi~h
symbolize thw ugh their forma l pro perties.
l2 A [ ('eh llie~ lI y satL,fJClOr y ,olution, how-
ever . dOCI not necessarily solve thc build ing
ta l k . Th is can only happen vi" the form .
33 Gmllic ~ reh itcctu re hal a high degree of
u niformity, while the primar y constr uction of
~fies van d ec Rohe take, care of one level
only. T he other levels ace ut i,ficd by ""cond
aCj' technical meal'll.

with a solution which is merely technically satisfactory. l1 We should tc- J~ for insta nce by sa)';ng that ~ regular
steel skeleton give, order to the free plan . '
member, on the other hand, that the formal structure is influenced by
the technical possibilities; it does not make sense to invent forms which
can not be built. In general there should exist a relation of structural
similarity between form and technics. It is surely possible to realize an
intended form by means of a technical improvisation, but we have already
proved that the technical solution ought to have system-character, and we
understand that a sound' solution should employ a construction which
possesses the formal properties needed. It is not always possible to fulfil
this ideal demand. Th e Gothic builders managed in spite of the stone', 33
while other periods have only realized in part the correspondence between
the formal and the technical structu res. In architectural history the technical
dimension plays the role of an obedient servant who willingly abandons
his honesty. When having to realize a formal structure technically, there
arc usually several alternatives to choose between, which for their part
contribute in different ways to the articulation of the form. As the form
normall y possesses several levels, the technical realization often has to
comprise several collaborating systems. We also know cases, however,
where a unifor m type of construction covers all the levels. B A technical
description, therefore, is not a substitute for the formal description. But it
is often convenient to unify the two in accordance with their structu ral
similarity. H

' 74

C.U.-\C ITY
In the previous section we have rendered an account of the relations
between the dimensions of task, form, and technics. We still have to
investigate the relations between the style, the collection of building tasks,
and the technical means of an epoch. T he style is defined as a formal
system, and we understand that it has to allow for a formal adjustment
to all the individual building tasks of the period, at the same time as it
J~ We have a lread ~' mentioned rhat Alberti
explicitly rut forw ard tllis demand . He thus
wanted tu represent llle perfect' religiou s
conte nt by means of pe rfect forms, while the
informal life lived in lhe countr y vilbs found
its ex pre ssion in less regubr form s.
l6 Will~ D$lein : T r,ur'ltrll 3.13.
17 T he -embracing ' space of ~{io:s .-an der
R~ is ....ulral in order 10 satisfy v:lrying
lalk,; .

should manifest the interrelations of the tasks. \Ve have seen that the Jl! T hese ,;;Iualion. arc ruhurally deter-
mined, but usually connected with Ihe decisive
interrelations of the tasks must be understood as a kind of 'higher ' ,
ph,lle' of huma n life. such as birth and death.
more comprehensive (c. g. urbanistic} task. T he style, therefore, should
enable the solutions of the individual building tasks to present themselves
as belonging to a general order which manifests the most basic functional,
social, and cultu ral structures of an epoch. The main formal structures
of a style, accordingly, should be correlated to particular building tasks. 35
T he unified character of the style is aided by the employment of one
single technical system, but as different tasks demand varying degrees of
flexibility, several technical systems are usually necessary. Modern skeleton
systems, however, possess a high degree of adaptability.
T he word adaptability' leads us to the second main problem of the
semanrical investigation : the capacity of formal and technical systems. In
the previous chapters we have asserted that the capacity is a function of
the articulation of the systems. A simple building task may be satisfied by
a relatively inar ticulate form , while a task where the pole-objects are many
and belong to different classes dema nds a correspondingly differentiated
form . 36 An inarticulate form can only receive inarticu late contents. If the
articulation is based upon probable combinations of clements and relations,
the form will be capable of covering sereral contents with a certain degree
of approximation. If, instead, the articulation is more: special', the form
may only be correlated to a correspondingly special content. J' A building
task is especially importa nt if it can be understood as a focus' for many
aspects of the form of life. We have maintained that religion, philosophy,
ideology, and art order individual life-si tuations into meaningful patterns,
and also that certain life-situations focus the changing happenings of daily
life. J8 Building tasks which are connected with such basic concretizations,

' 75
therefore, arc of decisive social and cultural importance, and demand a
rich and articulate formal realization. 39 The capacity of an individual
form has to be in accordance with the structure of the task in question,
while the style integrates the individual forms in a more comprehensive
system. In this way a continuity between ' higher ' and 'lower ' tasks is
created, at the same time as all tasks are interpreted as aspects of the same
form of life. An epoch, thus, is characterized by determined semantical
correlations between classes of formal structures and tasks.
Th e correspondence between form and task is rarely univocal. Th e
same task can usually be solved by several relatively different means, which,
however, ought to have a certain structural similitude (synonyms). 40 Ana-
logously a form can receive different but related contents (homonyms).
This 'vicariousness' (equivocality) is important because it implies that
certain changes in the task may happen without necessitating radical formal
alterations, and that certain formal experiments can be carried out without
destroying the correspondence with the task-structure. The vicariousness,
therefore, is essential for the historical continuity.
We have also seen that the correspondence between form and task
depends upon the scale. If a building task demands enormous dimensions,
we may have to represent it in a way basically different from the repre-
sentation of a ;. similar ' task demanding small dimensions. ~I In other
words, the formal structures arc only J(mantical/y possible within certain
dimensional ranges. When forms become very large. for instance, it is
hardly advisable to carry out a uniform geometrical articulation, and
accordingly we recognize the fact that topological relations have always
been important in city planning. " The normal principles of architectural
form, therefore, arc only valid within a certain 'human' range of di-
mensions. The limits seem to differ for mass-, space, and surface-dements.
The importance of the scale also implies that a style is co-ordinated with
determined dimensions. H It is not possible to treat the problem theoreti-
cally in further detail, as it forms a part of architectural history. But the
theory must put the problem, in order to escape the hypostatization of
an absolute syntax. +!
In general, semantics asks what a certain form means at a certain tim e.
We may say that the forms possess symbolizing capacities, but they become
1]6
39 Thi $ e:r.plain~ why we dn nOl pby a
Viennese wah z at a funera l. T he simple form
of the waltz adapts ihel / to simple lile-
,itu atioM, while the funeral a~ a eentral , it-
cano n requi res a different form al ' frame'. I n
general . the central concre tizatio ns dem and a
', ymphonie' form , which embrace' motives
belongin g to the single everyda y situation' .
A ordi ngl y, we have to distinguish between
perfection and grea/nus. A simple for m may
be perfect, but never great. It is aloo mean-
ingful to talk abou t great , but not entirely
successful (perfect) works . (See L , B. Meyer:
'So me Remar ks on Valu e and Greatne.. .. .
p. 499)
4() The wor k of Michelangelo exhibits sev-
eral for mally diffen:nt interp retations of a
meaningf ul motive eompo~ of conll.icting
rising and falling movements".
~l For instanee. the small church and me
eath<:dtal.
42 While furn irure and 10wn..:a.pes an: often
organiud xeordi ng to topological rdation$.
the intermediate building is ullla.lly gromd-
rial. ThCTe are, of coune. many ....ccptiow.
43 O ne of the reasons for the failure of the
' monumenul ' lay-ouu of the nineteenth cen-
tury is that they did not obey the ",ale n:nural
to the n yle in question.
+! We mou ld repeat that the formal pri n-
ciples described in the pres.ent study are purely
arulyUea.l and not tantamount 10 an ab!.olun:
syntu.

active and real only through a semantical correlation with building tasks.
Particular forms are at particular times given meaning by particular
semantical relations. The forms arc devaluated when the semantical di-
mension is neglected. Devaluation is not a forrnal problem, but has a
seman tical character, and imports that a form is used without the adequate
correspondence to the building task. 45
'I } One of the reaS{)", for the d egeneration
of the da" ica! palace fa"adc in the nin eteenth
century i, tha I il Wa' applied 10 an arehiree
tural organism where it d id not fil, that is,
the apartme nt house and the offi~ huilding,
2
which are both characTerized by an addition of
4 equa t .parial uni ts (room., .to rey.). Th e pal
99 ace. howeYer, wa. a differ"nti.aIM organ ism.

Today we usually demand a full correspondence between the form and

the technical realization, and even let the forms arise as results of technical
experimentation. Semantical investigation, however, tells us that the cor-
respondence between task and form is more important, and that this is
the only means to combat visual chaos. The importance given to the tech-
nical dimension in our time stems from the need for industrializing the
building activity. Industrialization, however, presupposes a repetition of
equal problems, that is, the establishment of a limited number of classes
of building tasks. On this basis technical systems ought to be developed
which possess the necessary properties to satisfy the classes. Under a devel-
oped industrialization the technical systems will be given in advance.
The practising architect only has to choose the system which fits the cask
in question best, that is, to create a semantical correspondence. Industrial-
ized technical systems, therefore, have to be defined in terms of the
structural properties which determine their semantical capacity. This again
stresses the importance of interpreting the technical dimension of the
architectural totality as a collection of systems, rather than as a knowledge
about materials and technical details.

' 77

6. The architectural totality

ARCH ITECTURE .0\5 AN' INTERMEDIARY OBJECT

In the previous chapter we have correlated the different pole-objects I Tho: form represents th" usk , while the
which may enter the architectural totality. The theory is not complete, opposite is not the 01"'.
2 Some of th" polc -objccu, esJ'CC'ially tunc -
however, before we have taken a look at the more characteristic totalities non al ones, can not be d efined independently
which arise when different poles and semantical relations are combined. of cert ain formal properties.
Firstly we want to stress that any work of architecture must comprise
poles from all the main classes. A work of architecture is only created
when a building task is realized technically within a style. An archi-
tectural intention is characterized in this way. The main dimensions arc
ordered in a certain succession. Thus the form has to possess structural
similarity to the building task, and the technical solution to the form. I
Conventional signs may enter the solution, but they should not dominate,
as the creation of architecture obviously cannot consist in an agr~ment
upon a conventional sign for a building task. A solution is only realized
when the structure of the task has found its formal equivalent. We should
also remember, however, that the form directly enters some of the pole-
objects of the task. 2 The technical systems cannot be described without
referring to formal properties, while the formal structure is completely
covered by the syntactical dimension itself. As a totality, the work of
architecture therefore concretizes a coherence-system of poles. It is charac-
terized by uniying poles of d;ff~r~nt kinds, and not by the wish to abstract
pure, univocal objects. That a successful work of architecture is so often
labelled 'organic ', is simply because architecture concretizes like nature
herself. As an intermediary object the work of architecture docs not
'describ~ the world, rather it unifies some of its aspects in a new mean-
ingful whole.

' 79
 When we distinguish between the pragmatic, semantic, formal, and 1 In other words. they h~rdly belong to the
coheteoce_$}"~tem .
It is, in general. expedient
technical components of the architectural totality, this does not imply [0 determi ne the tole of a ro le in lerm, of

that we dissect and 'kill' the work of architecture. It only means that the d iem prod uced when it is removed.
we comparc the individual and unified work with other objects: with 4 The irregular' intervals ' of c1 a,sical Greek
architecture are by-products, and do not need
higher objects, with formal categories, with technical systems and with interpretation.
scmantical relations. The theory of architecture should render an account
of how this in done and should indicate the dimensions of comparison
to be used, while empirical research treats the individual concrete case.
The comparison shows that the work of architecture can be described by
means of certan clearly defined and interrelated pole-objects.
We have seen that certain poles are more important for the totality
than others. The most important (primary) poles arc those which are con-
nected with man}' of the others, that is, changing them would influence
large parts of the totality. Secondary poles, instead, are relatively isolated. 3
Within all the main classes we find primary and secondary poles. An
aspect of the building task, for instance, is secondary if it can be removed
without influencing the realization. A form is secondary if it does not
contribute to the solution of the task. Some secondary poles may have the
character of ' by-products' , that is, properties which were not really
intended, but which are drawn in by the real intentions. A symmetrical
disposition, for instance, can result from purely topological intentions. ~
Architectural history is full of such secondary forms which are due to
accidental circumstances of to purdy formal intentions. If the form gets
too rich ' for the task, the solution is still valid. When the opposite
happens, however, the solution is no longer satisfactory. A too rich solution
may seem interesting, but this effect is dangerous because it destroys the
dear scmantical relations which should secure an ordered environment.
A solution where the form is too poor has a similar negative effect,
because it induces us to lessen our demands for semanrical correspondence.
The final summing-up of a structural analysis should distinguish be-
tween the primary and secondary poles. We have already introduced
the terms primary ' and ' secondary' when discussing the different basic
dimensions. It is not sure. however, that a primary element is essential
for the totality. A primary formal element. for instance, may result from
the imitation of a traditional motive which has no meaningful semantical

180
 ~ It i. not 3lw3YS neu.",r)" to urr,' Ihrough
relation to the other main dimensions. T he summing-up of the analysis,
complete prclimin3ry "n.aly~ .
therefore, extracts the releoant as~cts from the preceding formal, technical,
6 In other word adC<jU3tc semanncal re-
and pragmatic analyses. 5 This does not imply that we have to correct the brion. m3ke the work of architecture become
results of our investigations, only that we characterize certain aspects as alive.

by-products. Relevant aspects arc d~fin ~d as bd llg semantically correlated 7 Th e intention of irrcle"30t forms i. usu -
:lily called ' form3Iism'.
with aspects from the other main dim ensions. ' An architectural totality
g Th e interdependence of the P3rts implies
is determined by its relevant aspects. T he first criterion for' architectural th at lhe work of architecture has to be in-
quality' , therefore, is the relevance of the different aspects. A work un drd ,.. a totality. It cannot eomc into ex-
istence by ' aJd ing ' the conU'ibulions of tech-
dominated by irrelevant aspects, has no inner coherence. It may, however, nical specialim.
sum satisfactory if one of the main dimensions is articulated; we are, 9 For insuncc the fictive orde rs of classical
for instance, easily deceived by a perfect but irrelevant form . 7 Th e demand 3rehi=e. ""lIich Ue maning'e.. wilen
judged lechn ie<llly. bU I highly rcle" ~l wilen
for relevance means that the parts of the totality ought to be inter- understood 3S parte of <In architectural tOl::l1ily.
dependent. This is in accordance with the general need for order which !O Til" sasne Iorms can participate on sev-
governs all human activities and products. We should therefore stress that cral Incl. . StUi gbt lines and right :""gles
an architectural structure not only consists in an addition of articulated may be tech nically determined at lhe same
time ~s they have a fu nctional and symbulic
main dimensions, but also in the co-ordination of these dimensions. The imporlance.
ideal would be a structure where all components are relevant. When
analyzing a successful work of architecture, therefore, the results of the
different preliminary investigations are taken over unaltered by the
concluding definition of the architectural structure. If, instead. large parts
of these investigations fall away when summing up the results, a lack of
correlation between the dimensions is expressed. We should repear that
the relevance is a function of the totality. and not of the single dimensions.
Forms and technical elements which seem intelligible or meaningless 84
when seen in isolation, may find their clear justification within the 90
totality. 9
Architectural quality not only depends upon the relevance of the
components, but also upon their degree of articulation. A totality where
several inter-connected and articulated levels within each dimension are
fully co-ordinated, has a higher quality than a totality where relatively
inarticulate and separate levels are brought together. Just as the task and
the means exhibit a level-structure, the totality as such will consist of
levels possessing a varying degree of inner and mutual co-ordination. 1O
Th e demand for articulation, however. is not absolute, but changes in
character according to the architectural system. We may not, as a matter
of course, compare works belonging to diOeu flt architectural systems 11 Compare III, 3, neee 115.

and indicate their relative quality. Th e quality, in general, can only be 12 We have seen that it is a simplification
to believe that a way of life above all mani
defined within the architectural system. We may, however, compare the fests itself in the concepliofIJ of space and time.
possibilities for concretization (capacity) of the systems, and thus arrive A way of life can JUSt as well be represented
hy m3g~ , poetic, or di fferent scientific ' ima-
at a certain basis for a comparison of works belonging to different systems. g.s ' which also cc ntrib uee to the arcbitec!Unl
We have defined an ' architectural system' as a characteristic way of torality.
organizing architectural totalities. An architectural system is determined
by the structure of the single dimensions, and by their semantical co-
ordination. The architectural system, therefore, has the same relation to
the single work as the style has to the single form. The architectural
system consists in co-ordinated classes of building tasks which arc con-
nected with a style and with a more or less limited technical system by
means of determ ined scmantical rules. It is described when all these
structural properties are indicated, that is, when its possibilities have been
investigated. It is convenient, however, to designate a system by referring
to its more conspicuous relevant aspects. Generally we characterize the
system by means of a relevant form, or also by a technical-formal structure.
Th is is usually possible, because most architectural systems have a limited
number of essential aspects which determine their capacity. II The in-
dividual work is characterized by its relationship to these essential aspects.
An essential aspect of a successful work is to be understood as a complex
of co-ordinated task- and means-structures. It can only be described,
however, by means of a ' dissecting ' analysis which indicates dimensions
and relations. But it can be name d as a whole by introducing the ' quali-
tative ' concepts we have discussed above. A qualitative concept ought to
designate a complex and essential aspect of the architectur al totality.
We should only remember that it has to be defined in terms of the
analytical dimensions. For this reason it cannot be introduced directly,
but only in a final summing-up of the analytical results. Most of the
qualitative concepts used by present-day architectural theorists designate
a complex of spatial poles. This is obviously due to the great interest in
spatial problems in modern architecture, but we understand that quali-
tative concepts may just as well be defined in terms of other formal or
technical aspects." In general. we may say that no particular intentional
pole is necessary (absolute), and that the poles change in space and time.

182
 Th e number of possible poles is infinite, but they remain within determined IJ \Ve often hea r lhat archile<:tUrc dema nd.
"unity", "r bythrn ", and' balance' . Th cu: eon
limits, and can be classified. H Th e architectural system is based upon eept' do not denote intentional poles, but
a selection of poles. npreS5 that we need ord. Sud t na tcmentl
remain mere trui sms as long a, it i, not u-
The appearance of a building is mostly determined by the use of plained how thi, order i, achieved.
borrowed motives and solutions. H The genesis and development of archi- 14 T he Use of borro wed form s , hould nol
tectural forms are therefore of the greatest interest. The question wh y be confused with a cop}"ing of the form. of
certain forms are accepted or rejected at certain rimes acquires central the J'3"t.

importance. I' Forms are usually accepted or rejected because of their IS Sec Bandmann: .\l;ttdalter/,rhe Arrhirek '
IUr Pp- 7 !t
meanings, even if practical considerations also play a certain role. T he 16 We mal', for inltantt. lake oyer a build _
traditional schemata may be analyzed in their original and in their actual ing type bur " aI)' the detail, (c. g. the euly
meaning, and we may also investigate their history' . The schemata Christian. Romano que. Gothic ~J;ra) . Of
....e mat- take over a motive and chang e its
generally go through so man)' transformations that both their form and me.ning (c. g. the dome).
content differ from the original intentions. T raditional schemata are 32 17 ." , the outset of a sl)'listie devetopmem
usually motives which are taken over and recomposed in new ways. 16 33 lr~ itional clem ents (motives) arc u,u . lly
taken over and combined OIdditivd}". Gradu-
Thus the problem arises of transformin g, combining and melting together all) tn..~ arc fused into a continuous whole.
schemata. Often the different intentional poles are ' added' in a rather Thi l proee.. is for inst:IIKe found in the HI;'_
Ii: d eyelopment of Michelang elo . (See :-Jor-
loose way, but the tendency towards the ideal of an integrated intermediary hcrg.$(:hull.: .\f~hdangelo. ..)_ For g<:ncr~
object seems to determ ine the direction of the development. " The exposfdon of rru, problem see A. E. Brind:_
acceptance of traditional schemata implies that experiences are taken over mann : Spti1""~e grouer .\{ri ft . Frank-
fum~1 1925.
and exploited. Just as science aims at an ever greater clarification of its
I.' Sor as dc-fence of the ruliog USle.
concepts, architecture has to take advantage of the experiences of the
predecessors when defining and co-ordinating its tasks and means. Not
only the technical dimension should be the object of such an empirical
development. While science aims at objectivity, the 'experiences' of the
architect are only valid within a determined architectural system. Th at
is, the experiences are connected with a particular cultural situation. We
recognize, however, that many experiences are valid for several systems.
Architecture thus docs not strive for obj(cti!'( results, but its solutions
have a public value. T hey should satisfy com m on tasks with means which
are generally accessible to perception and participation. Especially import-
ant are the aspects which make the solution become a common symbol.
T he demand for public value should not be misinterpreted as a demand
for self-evident , banal solutions. l~ We should not shrink from asking
for solutions which may go against man y individual wishes, if they help
the community. A building may also become a public symbol by being

l _

accidentally connected with an historical occurrence. " We must repeat,
however, that architectural quality depends upon a correspondence between
meaning and form. 20
To conclude, we should repeat that an architectural totality consists
of poles from all the main dimensions. As an intermediary object the
work concretizes the pole-complex. Th e main dimensions have to be
semantically co-ordinated, in other words, forms and constructions acquire
meaning when being connected with a building task. 21 The term ' formal
language' expresses that the forms are given with meanings . If we combine
elements from a formal language (style) in a new way, we only create a
,
19 Such as the Bastille. or the birthplaces of
great personalities.
20 How should we judge. the quality of "-
building like the Pcrzluncola? The chapel
was not made to manifest the personality or
teaching of St. Francis. but became accident-
ally connected with bim . T his docs not mean
that it suddenly acquired architectural quality
when the connection was established. Its
quality is du e to the fact that it was fitted for
its new role, and tha t is also certainly the
reason why St . Francis loved the chapel
(see v. Mall &; Hauser : Francesco d' Assisi.
Padova 1952. pp . 58 If.)

meaningful form if the combination fits an actual building task. Th e 11 An epoch dies when these connection.
are destr oyed,
semantical co-ordination depends upon the articulation of the dimensions, U Both teodencie$ are common today.
in other words, articulation is essential to the architectural totality. The
scheme element-relation-structure is present at all architectural levels.
Semantically co-ordinated aspects are relevant, and determine the archi-
tectural totality. The structural analysis describes the structural properties
and indicates the relevant aspects. Architectural quality depends upon
relevance and articulation. Architectural systems are classes of architectural
totalities characterized by particular types of concretization. Architectural
history renders an account of totalities, systems and developments. H istory
describes analytically and can only use "qualititative" concepts to name
totalities and systems.

INTENTIONS IN ARCHITECTURE

The preceding remarks should be supplemented with a few words about

the more characteristic types of architectural totalities.
Firstly we should mention some cases of unsatisfactory solutions. If the
physical milieu or the economic conditions comprised in the building task
are one-sidedly emphasized, we may talk about ' vulgar-functionalism ' ,
while solutions determined by the traditional and perhaps obsolete cliches
of the ruling taste could be called "romantic "." Architecture where the
formal dimension is unduly stressed, is ' formalistic ' , a term which
implies that the forms are unsatisfactorily co-ordinated with the building

184
 task; " If only the technical aspect is intended, we should talk about II A. a r~aotion against th~ rationalu.m of
euly funotionalism, th e yeus :after the second
' building ' rather than ' architecture ' . world war h3Y~ k en characterized by a
When considering the totalities which exhibit a satisfactory co-ordina- formalist attitud e.
tion of the dimensions, it is convenient to take the building tasks as the 2~ Ou r c1 anifi cation is not new, but we
hope to have made it more precise by d efining
basis for a classification. T his follows from the fact that the building the oo~pts of phy.ical milieu aoo symbol-
task is the point of departure for the architectural solution. While a milieu.
classification in terms of formal or technical factors would isolate archi- 25 In primitive architecture the two inten-
tions are bardly distinguish~d_
tecture, a classification in terms of tasks unites the architectural totalities
26 Determined :I.IIgla are alw introduced
to the form of life in general. An architecture which is determined by <ria. artifacts such as closets, draw ers, beds,
the need for a physical milieu, may be called ' utilitarian ', while an tables . :I.Dd chain. An:a.logously the form of
architecture determined by the need for a symbol-milieu could be de- buildings ma y influence: the . !TUetUI"e oI the
urban units. 1D. general, the formal le.,.ds ar~
nominated as mon umental", 24 We also know totalities where both ee-ordieated.
intentions are equally important;" The distinction is valid at all levels of Xl When present-day architects search for
planning , from the smallest artifact to the urbanistic whole. illspintion ill primioYe aro:h.i. tectur ~, it often
happens on the basu; of the misunderstanding
In utilitarian architecture the physical control dominates in some cases, tb.u primitin arch itecture is purd y function:a.I.
in connection with relatively diffuse functions which only need a rather
schematic frame. At this lowest level, the task will only determine the
technical realization of the boundaries, and eventually the sizes of the
spaces. When the functions become more differentiated, the form and
topological distribution of the spaces also have to he considered. T he
space-form, instead, is only prescribed by very special functions. Regular,
determined angles, for instance, arc rarely functionally necessary; rather
they are technically determined, or form a part of comprehensive formal
systems (styles) which can satisfy the higher aspects of the task. 26 Primitive
architecture is generally described by means of the topological schemata
which are common to the task-structure and the form. Some iconic or
conventional symbols, however, will usually enter the description, as
primitive architecture is rarely purely functional. Th ese symbolizing
dements may have the character of decoration, or the form al structure
itself may be symbolizing. " In a society where the building tasks are
differentiated, one tends to distinguish between the purely utilitarian
and the symbolizing tasks. In Europe the farm-buildings and the urban 98
dwellings have traditionally a utilitarian character. As the basic way of
life has been relatively invariant throughout history, utilitarian architecture
acquired a rather constant character, only coloured' by varying needs

7

for physical cont rol (regional differences). The stylistic changes, instead,
were expressed on special buildings, and manifested changing formations
of religious, philosophical, and social objects. The dwelling thus only in
part records the changing aspects of society. Today the dwelling has
become a ' leading ' task, as modern individualism has induced man to
want his personal symbol-milieu. The problem is usually solved by a
'romantic ' imitation of motives." The modern dwelling, therefore,
reflects especially well the social and cultural chaos of our time. A fellow-
ship probably has to be expressed by means of a certain uniformalization
,
2, T he imitation of an old farm-h ouse ob-
viously is not det ermined by the original
int entio ns . Instead , the house ha' become the
manifestatio n nf a cultural object. In. other
words, certain forms from the pa' t have lost
their functional and iconic character, and
have become conventional sign' , Th i, process
is eharaeteri' tic of 'romantic' ~rt .
29 T he carly fu nctionalist theory that the
99 house should fit the functions like a ' glove '
is therefore unsatisfactory .
30 See Bandma nn : op. cit. , p. 58.

of the dwellings, while the individual house, ' tailored ' according to the 3l Alberti intuitively und erstood this when
he assigned the ' perfect' forms to tbe 'bigh_
taste of the client, necessarily has a negative influence on the community. e,t ' tasks.
A certain uniformalization of the dwellings to stress their utilitari an
character, only indirectly cxpresses the fellowship. T he symbol-milieu
must find its direct expression in monumental architecture, that is, in
solutions which manifest the cultural values which are basic to the social
milieu. The symbol-milieu, as we have seen, is dependent upon a formal
symbol-system which is capable of representing social and cultur al struc-
tures iconically. We have also seen th at an articulated architectural
symbol-system presuppo ses a certain geometrization, because the pregnancy
and adaptability of the elements are a function of their geometrical
properties. While the functional situations possess a high degree of indivi-
duality and only to a limited extent contr ibute to the formation of types,
the symbol-milieu manifests the objects common to the ind ividual
situations. A higher architectural structur e, therefore, normally represents
a particular symbol-milieu. A physical function can usually be satisfied
by many different means, but the symbol-milieu demands that we make
our choice between these means. 29. Th e symbol-milieu asks for the de-
vcloprnent of parti cular structures and types, which of course should not
be in conflict with the functional demands. 30 If this happens, we would
have to character ize the symbols as inconvenient or obsolete. In this way
the single functional situation is understood as a part of a wider socio-
cultural context. The works of monumental architecture, which concretize
the central poles of the symbol-milieu, have to possess the highest structural 57
pregnancy and art iculation within the architectural system. I I

186
 From this it follows that an architectural system can be understood
as an ordered collection of architectural totalities. Th e totalities may be
classified and the classes described in terms of the dimensions of task and
means. An architectural system is characterized by the number and types
II In the European pa<t the tasks formNl a
hienrdly.
II The fir<! alternative char acterizes the
spontaneous ' sdf-c:rp ression', and the second
academic' arrhitc<:{urc.

of tasks. It also comprises particular relations between the classes, such }o\ ~ III, 3, note n. A work of architecture
thus hu to belong to an architectural system
as an hierarchical order or an 'addition ' of equalities. II We have already to acq uire th e ,t:1tu. of a work of art ,
mentioned that the differentiation of the building tasks was preceded by
a vague, magical totality. T he differentiation, however, is of essential
importance for a developed culture, and we have seen that it is accom-
panied by a certain geometrization of the formal structures. T he archi-
tectural system thus presents itself as a limited collection of architectural
totalities, where some playa ' leading ' role. Often a single task is leading,
and the development of the architectural system may be described by re-
ferring to this type alone. The building types of the architectural system are
not static, fixed totalities. Rather they should be characterized as a system
of probabilities, as a statistical ensemble analogous to the style. Th is implies
that the types possess possibilities for variation, in other words, the primary
poles essential to the type enter ever new phenomenal contexts according to
the situation. Th e architectural system, therefore, warrants order as well
as variation. We have seen that order and variation belong together, as a
' variation ' which does not refer to an order is an arbitrary and mean-
ingless fancy which tends to destroy the existing architectural system.
An order which does not allow for variation, on the other hand, leads
to the mere repetition of known (banal) cliches. n Both the accidental
invention and the static order, therefore, have no information value.
Prolific architectural systems have to be based upon the formation of
correlated and variable building types. T he single type acquires meaning
as a part of the architectural system, and the higher types therefore
enrich ' the lower ones. "

THE PURPOSE OF ARCH IT ECTURE

Th e purpose of architecture has been described extensively in the

chapter on the building task. We have to conclude with a few remarks
on its cultural role in general. We have seen that architecture has a

practical (instrumental) as well as an arusuc purpose. It concretizes a
complex of diverses poles where cultural objects (values) are comprised.
It is also artistic because it concretizes new intermediary objects which
react on society. Architecture, therefore, is both a practical ' tool' and a
35 Our theory is a meta-system', that is,
a langu age 10 talk about the 'architectural
language ' .
36 T he copying of the past usually consists
in the employment of ;rolaua motive..

symbol-system. We have tried to render an account of this state of affairs
by defining the dimensions essential to the architectural totality.35 That
architecture is instrumental and artistic, means that its purpose comprises
cognitive, cathectic, and evaluative components. It is not purely cognitive,
as it does not give us knowledge. and still it contributes to order our
environment. It is not purely cathectic, because it does not give us enter-
tainment. And still it is a source both of delight and discontent. It is not
37 This d oes not mean that the practical
a' pect docs not request articulation.
38 We may rompare the _synthetic:ol char-
acter of architecture with that of biological
forms (sec C. H. Waddington: 'The Ch~r_
acter of Biological Form', in Whyte: Aspu ts
of Porm, London 1951, p. 47). Th is doe. not
mean , however, that the architcctural form.
should r~umhl~ the forms of nature.

evaluating because it does not establish rules for our conduct. And still it
manifests social and cultural norms. Architecture, at all events, is something
' more' than a purely practical tool, and this ' more ' is essential to human
life. Architecture, therefore, forms an important part of our environment.
Architecture is explicitly a synthetic activity which has to adapt itself
to the form of life as a whole. This adaptation does not request that every
work should be related to the total whole. The individual work concretizes
secondary wholes, but because it belongs to an architectural system, it
participates in a complete concretization. New concretizations can neither
imitate the past, nor break completely with tradition. Th ey are dependent
upon the existence of symbol-systems which are capable of development.
This implies that we should conserve the structural principles of tradition
rather than its motives. " T he articulated form enables architecture to
transcend its purely practical aspect.37 In principle 'form ' means an
adaptation to a wider context. Th e formless possesses no adaptability,
because it lacks definable properties. The form becomes more or less
complex according to the task, and a varying number of dimensions of
comparison have to be used for its description. We should repeat that
all the aspects of the task present themselves simultaneously." Even the
economic aspect should never be considered separately, as it so often is.
The economic judgement depends upon the satisfactory definition of the
building task. Only if the solution is a real one may we consider its
economic aspect. Tod ay apparent solutions are often accepted, and used
as a dimension of comparison for more expensive but real ones.

188
 As the architectural solution is determined by poles taken from all 39 It i! related to the myth . The myth ,
however , has later become differentiated into
the basic classes of objects, architecture has remained synthetic throughout Kienee, religion, and art.
history. 19 Only recently has one tried to specialize architecture by reducing
it to a mere practical activity. It is neither easy to understand nor to
practise a synthetic activity in a period of emphasized specialization. But
we have seen that synthetic concretizing activities are essential for inter-
action and cultural development. Th e fact that we want to preserve the
synthetical character of architecture does not mean that we should not
try to get a profound knowledge of its compon ents. This knowledge
can only be acquired on the basis of an integrated theory of architectu re.
When the knowledge has been supplemented with an adequate training
in creating and perceiving architecture. we may hope to reach our goal:
a more satisfactorily ordered environment.

r&)

,
IV. Outlook
In the first part of the present study we put forward several questions
which the theory of architecture as such does not answer. T he theory
renders an account of architecture as an object, but it does not explain
the experience of architecture, the production of works of architecture,
or the problems connected with the education of architects. The theory,
finally, does not treat of the more special problems of architectural
criticism and historical research , These: four fields are not comprised by
the theory, but fonn its most important applications. The theory thus
enables us to control our perceptions, and indicates how the relevant
intentional depth should be defined. It furtherm ore defines the factors
which determine the production of a work of architecture, and it makes
it possible to discover whether a particular solution is satisfactory. The
theory also offers a necessary basis for architectural research in pointing
out the problems and in ordering the results. Research without a theoretical
foundation is a blind activity, which at best leads to fragmentary know-
ledge. The theory, finally, indicates what the would-be architect should
learn, and organizes the individual subjects taught at the school of archi-
tecture into a whole, to the advantage of the student as well as the
professor. We have maintained that all these fields today are characterized
by insecurity. T his situation is probably permanent, because: of the ever-
increasing complexity of our form of life. A corresponding development
of the theoretical insight becomes necessary.
Our attempt at giving the outlines of an integrated theory of archi-
tecture, therefore, stems from practical problems, and we should render
a short account of its more important applications : experience, production,
analysis, and education. We do not pretend to solve the problems, only
to hint at their definition and to show how the theory may help us in
treating them.

'93
1. Experience

We have ahead}' asserted that an investigation of the archi tectural I It must be r~puli dm thi, demand i,
of crucial import=tt if w~ wanl to :aJTi,,~ at
experience should not be con foun ded with an investigation of architecture a fuller undtnlanding of our fid d.
itself. I Architecture is described in terms of objects employi ng th e di- 2 Thi, ;, in .accordance with th~ fact thai
mensions of com parison indicated above. An account of the experi ence of ' perception' does DOl mr:rn a p,...ive reception
of impr~nion, .
architecture, however, treats the question of how architecture, in the
J For Instance the spatial a' pe([S.
widest sense of the word , is used ' . 1
All siwa rions ' means th~ public' situa
In the chapter on perception we stressed the importa nce: of att aining
tions which make up the physical milieu and
the relevant objects of the situa tion . An insufficient intent ional depth is the symbol-milieu.
just as unfor tunate (dangerous) as the intent ion of a too distant pole.
Most buildi ngs participate in several situations. When we hurry to and
from our place of work, th e buildings we pass by only form a relatively
neutral background. T his does not mean that they are irrelevant, onl y
tha t we content ourselves with the perception of some of their properties.
Ou r attitude becomes completely di fferent when we participate in a situa-
tion into which the building enters actively. Again, as touri sts our attitude
differs from the ever yday one, and the architect and the layma n natur ally
see' the buildings differently. In other words, we orient ourselves
accordi ng to the Aufgabe of the situation . Architectur al experience. there-
fore, is somethi ng changing and m ultifarious. But the term "archi-
tectu ral experience' is hardly used in this sense. Instead one imagi nes
the existence of one particular attitude which determines the ' real '
exper ience of architecture. T his att itu de is mostly defined as the intention
of the fo rmal properties of the work of architecture . J We have already
rejected the ['Art pour fA rt view, and should th erefore ask whether it
makes any sense wha tsoever to talk about the ' real' experience of
architecture.
The building task comprises all the situations in which the build ing
has to partici pate. " T he archi tectu ral totality, therefore, concretizes all

H) 5
the goal-objects of the ditTerent fragmentary experiences hint ed at above. 5 Kant chwscterieed the artistic experience
as 'disinterested ' . We ma y interpret this as
This means "that the experience of the architectural totality does not the intention of an intermediary object. rather
correspond to any of the perceptions connected with the individual situa- than a particular pur e object. T his dOl" not
imply that the artistic experience is det ached
tions in which the work of architecture participates. It is natural to from real life.
define the ' real' architectural experience as the perception of the archi- 6 Th e experiment of :\ta ,low and Mintz.
tectural totality, and we under stand that this experience is not connected however, shows tha t arch itecture inAuenccs
us also when it only serves as a "necc al '
with any single situation, but demands a particular intention where the background.
work of architecture is understood as a total concretization, as a cultural 7 Compare Maslow and Mintz: op. cit.
object. A real architectural attitude , therefore, is not directed towards
the individual instrumental or symbolic aspects of the work , but aims at
grasping it as a whole. Architectural experience, thus, should correspond
to the relevant description of the work in question. When perceiving
architecturally, it is important to intend the relevant totality, and many
misinterpretations stem from the intention of other structures than the one
which makes the work comprehensible. The experience of architecture,
therefore, should not be confused with the experience of single poles, be
they ' higher ' or ' lower ' ; it consists in the experience of a concretization,
and is as such a real artistic experience. 5 For the importance of this kind
of experience we refer to the section on ' Aesthetics' . But we should not
forget that daily life also demands more' practical ' attitudes to the archi-
tectural environment. 6
When we use the term ' intentional depth' in connection with archi-
tecture, we consider the relevant structure to be the goal of perception .
Evidently, a correct intention (attitude) does not come by itself. It implies
that we are able to structure the situation formall y, and that we perceive
the forms semantically connected with contents. Put in psychological
terms, we have to possess schemata which correspond to the structure of
the work. Most human beings possess several schemata related to archi-
tecture, such as the general topological and geometrical schemata described
by Piaget. But experience shows that this is not enough , or rather , hardly
anybody is able to apply these schemata when perceiving architecture.
Although most persons react negatively to disorder, " their experience
of architecture is based upon special schemata which consist in looking
for the forms they are used to see. This is in accordance with the fact
that we only perceive what we expect to see. As most human beings grow

196
up surrounded by works of architecture, we can infer that they generally I As we b ,k psy,holog;ul experiments OR
architect ura l paeepcion, w e can ner discuss
possess such schemata, We may characterize these schemata as prejudices, tbest prob lems in further <'!et:a il.
because they refer to known motives rather than general principles or 9 Ter ms like ' ugl y' :and 'prctty' designate
structures. a A particular type of prejudice consists in applying such d iffuse exper iences.

fragmentary schemata to the architecture of other times and places. The 10 Compm: }okra', exposition of m usical

naive assumption that our fragmentary schemata mediate an adequate ~ceptio R (EmoJio" ""J Mt "" j"l .. . p. 43).
II Th e geneul principles upon which the
perception of any work of architecture is normal. Most persons are ready concept of order is basM m:ay also be: ,t udifi:l
to characterize any building as 'ugly' or ' preny' . Such criticisms reflect iDdependendy of a particular form al bngu:age
(' 1)st ern theorr ').
a very superficial perception, " Also, if we assimilate to a certain extent
12 It m:ay !.C'Cm pretentious [0 suggest such
the style dominating our daily environment, our perception of other styles a new subject. 'Archilcetu r:al :apprtciation'.
will be unsatisfactory.lo In general, therefore, the experience of archi- of course, should form :a p"rt of a more
~ ncral artist ic educ.:ltion whtre t heory , his-
tecture has to be based upon training. As there is no basic difference 1OI'y, and exercises arc comb ined . Rather t han
between the spontaneous acquisition of schemata when growing up, and being pretentious, this d emand is of e1scntial
a more direct education as adults, this demand has nothing unnatural importance 10 the developme nt of more ' com-
plcre' person. (See H . Read: 01'. cir.).
to it, ' T o learn to see' , therefore, aims at understanding a formal
13 T his i, certainly the reason for the Ira
language, Th e basic point is the fact that we can only perceive order, dirionally good 13Ste of th e Italian"
and that the schemata which make this possible are not given a priori
but have to be acquired. We must learn to organ ize a situation formally,
and we must learn the meanings of the forms. These two aspects, however,
can to a certain extent be kept apart. T his is also the case when we learn
a language, and give separate attention to the problem of grammar ' and
' vocabulary' . II Th e education may be based upon direct information, as
well as upon training in 'using ' architecture. To escape the formation of
prejudices, it is important that the architectural education accompanies
the general education. As architecture forms an essential part of our envi-
ronment it seems reasonable to request that 'architectural appreciation '
should be taught in the primary school. Il The existing surrounding help
the development of articulated perceptual schemata, and it is therefore also
very important to grow up in an architecturally ordered environment. B
A particular problem in connection with the experience of architecture
is the changing behaviour demanded from the beholder. We have men-
tioned that an architectural structure demands particular View-points to
become intelligible, A symmetrically organized succession of spaces is only
perceived adequately if we move along its axis, while the centr alized space 62
of the Renaissance should be experienced by placing ourselves in its centre. 68

'97
In general, the view-points are a function of the constancy phenomena.
They give an adequate perception as long as the Gestalt constancy is
maintained. The symmetrical succession and the centralized space, there-
fore, admit certain deviations from the ' ideal ' view-points and movements,
whereas other deviations would lead to an unsatisfactory (wrong) per-
cepd on. " A complex architectural organi sm can only be experienced
throug h a movement where the succession of perceptions becomes organized
mentally into a total experience. 15 In this case the perception does not only
consist in the visual impression at any single moment, but is determined
by our kno wledge of the presence of certain forms. 16
\ve have already asked whether a complex mathematical order may
be perceived, and have asserted that perception rather grasps the architec-
tural Cestalten than the' invisible' num erical relations. When perceiving
a repetition of similarities in depth, we perceive the foreshortenings as
such, because we assume that the repetition is uniform (' pro jection con-
stalKY . This illustrates the fact that an irregular structure escapes a satis-
factory perception, and it also explains why a physically constructed fore-
shortening has such a strong visual effect. Ii The fundamental role of the
constancy phenomena in perception means that we should not attach too
much importance to the so-called ' optical refinements '. Much has been
written on the less evident optical illusions, such as slightly curved lines
looking straight and vice versa, and the curved lines of Greek temples
have been explained as an attempt to counteract such illusions. l S As the
principle of form-constancy makes us disposed in any case to overlook
the deformations of the general form through illumination, proportional
context, colour, ctc., the theories of ' optical refinements ' have to be
considered rather far-fetched. 19 We also experience a building as the same
regard less of the weather, although a particular illumination may em-
phasize its structur e. 20
Summing up, we should stress that the architectural experience aims
at grasping the architectural totality as an intermediary object. But the
experience often has to be built up through a succession of perceptions,
helped by our knowledge. The perception of architecture is usually defec-
tive, because most persons onl y possess unsatisfactorily developed perceptual
schemata. " The effect intended by the architect therefore generally fails
198
U Formal structur cs including optical iJlu-
s;ons ~r~ particularly dependent upon pr~
scribed view-poin ts.
15 Th i, should not be confounded with
Frey', di,tinc tion betwe~ n ' simultaneous' and
"successive.' structures. A complet~ simulta-
neous ,lructure may r~'l u ire thaI the hehold er
move" while a ,imple succession can be ~X _
perienced from one position. This, again,
shows thaI il is nec~"a ry to dislinguish be-
tween Obje<;l and ~ xper i~nce.
16 W~ d o nol experience a building or a
s'Juan as an isolated phenom~non , but as a
part of a comprehem ive urban organi, m . T his
organism 'colour, ' th~ perception of the parts.
Ii For im lance the stage in Palladia' , Tea-
tto Olimpico, or th~ colonnade by Borromini
in Palazzo Spada.
J8 Se~ Cornell: op. cir., p. 3t and note 3,
eh. 5 with bibliography. AIS<) P . A. Micheli"
- Ret mements in Architecture ", fAAC, Vol.
XV L , xc. 1, S~pt . t955.
t9 Th~idea ,tem, from lhe I ' Art pour /"A rt
allitud~ of the nineteenth ~~nlury . The archi-
tectum ; structu re usually requires that we
leave ou t many n u ane~'.
20 That the structure is empha' izcd doc,
nor imply that it changes. For a di"msion
of ,tyle and illumination sec C. Norberg-
Schulz : ' Arkitektu r gjennom kameraiiyet ',
Byggek unst, 1959.
21 Th~ layman, therefore, rarely sees the
difference between lru~ an im!ation and a
,u p~rficia! d ecoration with borrowed motives.
to appear. This, of course, does not imply that we should give up genuine
architecture. The building tasks, as we have seen, are determined by
factors which transcend the individual's wishes, and they have to be solved
even if the solutions are misunderstood and misjudged. If not, serious
social and cultural problems result. Our investigation shows that we do
not solve these problems when following the ruling taste. and that the
building tasks instead have to be defined on an objective basis and solved
with relevant means. To enable the architects to do this, the public should
givc up its naive belief in the ruling taste. Thi s presupposes a training in
looking at architecture. " Some architectural totalities are easily perceived,
while others request a close study and thorough training. 2J It is especially
difficult to und erstand ' complex work s from other cultures. Naive real-
ism assumes that we can experience spontaneously works of art from
any epoch, but a controlling analysis would show that the experience'
generally consists in a reading of our own intentional poles into totalities
where they do ncr belong. " We should therefore be more cautious when
judging works of architecture from other periods. Architectural history,
accordingly, only rarely has the courage to regard its results as secure. 1'5
Finall y we should stress that an intention of the relevant structure implies
that we must leave out perceptually man y secondary intermediate objects,
such as optical illusions. We have reason to assert that the optical corrections
should rather be understood as deviations from the stylistic norm . u;
The psychology of perception tells us that things have to possess a clear
order to be active, and that the architect should form his buildings in
such a way that the perception does not become too difficult.
199
II To learn to sec means to acquire the
und erstanding of a slyle and its uses.
B The same holds true for pera:i ving
music. A full understanding presupposes thai
~i mple and complex forms arc cxpc:rienrnd
relative to each other. that ii , th at we know
the common style Ihey belong to.
24 Foreign polC'l enter the coherena: -systan.
2S This, however, d ocs nO! mean that it is
impouib/e 10 arrive at valid analyses and
perceptio ns. It is :I miscon<rplio n 10 belie ve
that the i nterp reta tion of the past has to be
changing.....ny product h:ll owe tletem,iwl!tl
releva nt structure which in principle can be
d escribed. Our preference., however, ma y of
course change. Gcnaally ....e prder the works
which have an affinity with our own prob-
lems.
:6 Th is ir ucrpreta oc n integrates the irregu-
bri tiC'l' in the relevant structure,
2. Production

When solving concrete building tasks the architect employs methods which I 10 the lUi chapter we will Ilium how
lhit ean be done.
necessarily have a theoretical foun dation. Any method is based upon as- 2 The dOlan was coined when lhe Bauhaut
sumptions about the character of the field where it is applied. T he architect ideas were inlrodU<X<l in the United Slain
has to solve tasks through form al and technical means, and he ought to (See L. Moholy-Nagy: Visu", j " Malion .
Chieago 1 9~7)'
possess the theoretical insight which enables him to define the tasks pre-
cisely and to find the corresponding means. The main reason for the
architectural chaos of our time, therefore, is the architects' and clients'
lack of theoretical understan ding. The client should know enough not to
insist upon meaningless demands, while the architect as a specialist has
to know the whole range: of the problems. We should immediately stress,
however, that the production of architecture cannot happen as a logical
combination of the components indicated by the theoretical analysis of
the task and the means. As a concretization the prod uction of architecture
is dependent upon a unifying creative process where the single components
are usually transformed by the total context. We have rendered an account
of this creative process above. T he procedure cannot be learned logically,
but has to be acquired through exercises. I This , however, does not imply
that analytic methods arc unnecessary. The creative procedure obviously
needs a material, and It is essential that this consists of analytically defined
factors, rather than favourite motives or vague ideas about the character
of the task.
Produ ction aims at creating an ordered physical milieu and a mean-
ingful symbol-milieu. We usually sum up these aspects in the expression
visual order ' . By this term, therefore, we do not only intend a purely
forma l order, but rather the use of m caningjul forms. T he slogan ' design
for life' covers the same intent ion. 2 T he demand for order contrasts with
the present-day contempt for form . This tendency is explicit everywhere.

2 01

\Ve walk, stand, and sit "informally", we dress in a ' sporty' way, we
do not greet each other any longer, and we eat standing at a snack-bar,
Our language has to be popular and easily understood rather than stringent
and articulated. Our entertainment should be absorbed without effort,
,
J It i, rharactcristic that juvenik aimin~ls
complain "bout a "'rk of clear ..alue1 and
roles put forward by parents and society.
4 As early ~s 1391 jean Mignot said : Ars
sine scicnti.. nihil nt.

and it therefore uses the most banal cliches. Art has become a spontaneous
self-expression', and religion a diffuse personal experience. Th e education
of children is also made ' free ' , and the schools abandon tests and examina-
tions. The present study shows the fundamental misunderstanding behind
these tendencies. Human values can only be preserved and mediated by
means of symbolic forms, and the basic factors of a civilization require the
most articulated symbols. Reactions against the present formless freedom"
start to appear; J not least is the lack of visual order subject to frequent
criticism.
To create visual order we need a suitable method for production, which
has to be based upon an integrated theory of architecture. The theory
helps us to define and classify the central tasks of the period, to classify
the means, and to indicate the correspondences between the two. The
method, therefore, should integrate theory and practice by co-ordinating
the different factors, instead of developing forms which cannot be built,
or technical structures which serve no purpose. The method shuns forms
which are added 'afterwards ' to give the solution the status of "archi-
tecture', and does not recognize any preconceived ideas about how the
result should be. It only admits a definition of the problem on an objective
basis, and a following' translation' in terms of corresponding means. Th e
method presupposes an understanding of the architectural totality." The
theory shows that the totality can be split into dimensions which to a
certain extent are investigated independently. The dimensions are not
arbitrarily chosen, and they must be correlated. It would carry us too far
to treat the production methods in further detail. We should only consider
some special aspects of the problem and also give a brief account of the
actual situation from which the present study stems.
When producing, the architect encounters two secondary problems.
Firstly he needs auxiliary 'tools' to present his ideas, and secondly he has
to some to an understanding with the other persons who are interested

202
in the solution of the building task in question. We here think of the
client as well as the team' of specialists which makes the realization of
the project possible.
The architects' auxiliary tools are much better today than in the past.
Not only is it possible to carry out drawings and models in a technically
better way; but his new tools also allow for a new formal freedom.' At the
same time statistical and analytical methods enable him to investigate the
aspects of a building task in an exact way, and mathematical calculation
warrants the correctness of the technical execution and the satisfaction of
the desired physical control. It is important to mention these trivial matters,
because so many architects still work in a purely intuitive \..-ay in the fear
of not being suffi ciently artistic '. The complexity of the architectural
totality requires exact methods, but we should again remember that certain
decisive steps in the production process are impossible without the faculty
of intuitive concretization. T he exact methods define the single aspects of
the totality. As a concreti zation the totality is only present in the finished
work, but it can be represented in different ways. Such representations
are never very satisfactory, as most people lack the ability to < read ' draw-
ings and models.(; T he problem has a certain analogy with the reading
of printed language, musical scores, or diagrams. " In all cases we try to
represent a structure in another medium. I A superficial attitude is there-
fore manifested when the layman wants to give a spontaneous judgement
of architectural drawings, models, or photographs. T raining is necessary,
and we encounter again the need for a general education in the appre-
ciation of architecture.
The architect has always played the role of co-ordinator ' for the
persons interested in the solution of a building task. He should not only
co-ordinate the specialists involved in the planning and realization of the
building task, but should also adapt the needs of the client to the existing
architectural system. and thereby integrate the task in a wider context.
Architectural theory shows that the architects would fail if they became
victims of a one-sided specialization. T he real task of the architect consists
in the unification of several factors taken from different fiel ds. Today these
fields are so complex that he cannot master them all, but has to mak e
use of information from and collaboration with different specialists. Th is
23
5 In th~ palt ..~r}" compliCJted bu ilding.
"'~r~ n~led with"uI "'ris:letory dra.... ings.
This was p"',ib[~ because "f the repetitio n of
a module and the employment of moo rules
of proport ion. The><:: pracric:>.1 tool, in Aum crd
the formal structure and acquired the n.:llu,
of a",lh~li<: rule'!. II i< all analogous phen<>-
menon when w~ toda y assign the te.::hniea\
sj'stems an aesthetic function . For the archi.
teetural praeliee of the past sec A. Grote:
Da "olkomm rll Architecluf, :\f unehen 1959.
(; Kot only because drawings and model.
arc abn ran ion' . but because the layman is
onl}' ablc tc perceive the finished building
un",tisfxtoril y.
7 Bruno Zevi diKUSSCS the problem in S<lprr
"rdrre l'ardiUllurll (PI'. 3511.). He is corrro:
in asserting tha t writing better represents a
literary work. the coloured reprodu ction a
painting , and the KOr~ a musical composition,
than plans and sections represent a build ing .
We find . however , that h~ exaggerates the
problem , al the ability to "read ' architectural
c1r.l wings ma y become high ly devclopM . We
should also remember iliat it is still harder
to learn to read a musical KOtC.
I Thc perspective dr awing " 'as taken into
71
usc duri ng the Renoi""'lItt, while the Gothic
build= ...ed Ihe ortho gonal projettion (See
W . Lot:< : ' D~, Raumbild in der Jtalicni5Chen
Architecktur:<ekhnung der Rena i"~nce '. in
Mitlei!,m g~" drl kUll fthiflorilch~" lnniuat
in Florcnz , July 1956). Th~ reason certainly
is lhat th ~ Renaissance artins conceived spa<e
a' organ iud relat ive to determined view.
points. T he pell pcetive drawing , Iherd ore,
represented a particul ar form:!.1 Intention.
Later it has become ru,vaIuat! and is used
10 blu ff the public by reprne ntations of
xcidentaI pi<:Nr C>q uc mocivn. II issymp-
lomooc that most programm n of arehitcetu raI
compcritionl still a sk for free ' perspective
dra wing, of the project.


collaboration presupposes a convenient theoretical subdivision of the archi-
tectural totality, to allow for the isolation and co-ordination of dearly
defined factors. The modern demand for ' team-work ' . therefore, pre-
supposes the existence of an integrated theory of architecture. T he different
specialists are only concerned with fragments of the building task or the
means to their solution. T he creation of architectural totalities thus tran -
scends the competence of the engineer and the technical specialist. The
architectural concretization comprises, as we have seen, all the aspects of
the' building, and has to be carried out by an architect trained in synthetic
production. 9
In principle it is impossible for the architect to satisfy the wishes of
the client directly. He always has to make use of means which are beyond
the understand ing of the client, and he also has to integrate the building
task in a function al-social context which only in part concern s the client.
9 We may in this context menrion the
mean ingless profession of the interior deco-
rator . The imeriot- evidently if a primny
asp t of me archile.ctural totality. It theeefcee
acceuaril,. beJollgs directlj- 10 the task of the
architect. Th e possibilty for team-work does
nor exist, "" team_work has to be ba=i upon
a me~gful d iviJion of the archirecrur;L! tc-
lalily. Th" d ivision in exterior and interior
is nor m~a ni ngfu1 in th is context. What w:
need arc 'd esign ers' who create artifacts wh ich
the ardl ilCCl may cboose between. (See C .
Norberg -Schulz: G~ppgang' . in 8c"'111
' 957)-
10 If me dian had been capable of doi ng
Ihis. he would have been an archuect.
II Th e sam" holds true: Eor the work ing
out of programm es for architectural compe-
titions.

It is therefore a misconception to say that the task of the architect is to

satisfy ~h ~ client. We should instead define his task as th~ integration of
the prob/~";' in a /tlrg~r iohole. This implies that he has to give a more
broad and precise definition of the task and the mean s than the client
himself is capable of. III This is only possible on the basis of an integrated
theory of architecture;" The confidence needed from the public must be
developed through training in architectural appreciation ' . Both parti es
have to base their attitude on a theoretical understanding of the common
goals. The public and the architects share the responsibility for the present
visual chaos. The public usually defines the building tasks on the basis of
narrow and short-term interests, and discovers too late that the wishes of 99
one person kill those of the other. T he architects, for their part , show a 2
lack of respect for their own field and indulge in an arbitrary play with 4
forms without the necessary understanding of the building task, of the
means, and the planning hierarchies. The visual chaos proves sufficiently
well that the architects must basically reorgan ize their field, and that they
must demand more from themselves. The architect must understand that
his responsibility transcends the satisfaction of the individual client. The
functional and symbolic order he should create does not allow the tasks
to be seen in isolation.

20 4
 We have several times hinted at the confused present situation of archi- 12 Gitdion : B~utn in Fr~n krt;dl. Leipzig!
Berlin 1928.
tecture. In the following we will give a brief account of the more charac-
13 Norberg-Schulz: "Husbyggiog mtd ItJ I-
teristic problems and tendencies. skjelett '
T he new technical possibilities have been of essential importance to the 14 FOC' insta nce Mia " an der Roh~ 's hooM:
development of a new attitude to architecture. Materials like cast iron, for the Berlin exbibiricn in ' 911.
steel, reinforced concrete and glass, led to the development of the skeleton
construction, which forms the great innovation of the nineteenth century.
T he skeleton construction made the plan ' free ' and allowed for the realiza-
tion of enormous continuous spaces, as well as very tall buildings. The
facades were transformed into a transparent, weightless skin. '! T he Crystal
Palace in London (ISsI) realized these possibilities and also showed the 100
advantages of prefabrication and montage. At the same time a new formal
coherence came to replace the classical ideal of balancing the parts in such
a way that ' nothing could be added or taken away without destroying
the harmony. ' In the Crystal Palace, instead, it was possible to imagine
a formal addition or substraction because of the coherence created by means
of repeating the same pregnant technical system throughout. A new open,
flexible, or ' incomplete' (but satisfactory) form was created. IJ In this way
the new technical possibilities set architecture free to frame new functions
and forms of life.
In the nineteen-twenties the interest shifted from the technical to the 3
functional and formal dimensions. Cubism had introduced a new type of
aesthetics. [ ts juxtapositions of interpenetrating, coloured planes had a very
inspiring effect on the architects. This formal attitude was a strength as
well as a weakness. The danger of a degeneration into formalistic play
often became reality. But it was of essential importance that the architects
became aware of the formal functions of coloured and textured surfaces,
and that the interest in free space compositions was awakened. In this
way formal elements were developed, capable of adaptation to varying
functions and psychological needs. T he formal experiments led to a new
conception of the building. It lost its traditional character of a closed mass,
and became instead an ordered juxtaposition of functionally determined 70
surfaces (slabs) in a continuous space. 14
After 1945 the situation has become more confused. The modern move-
ment no longer has the unified character of the ' twenties. Its unsolved

25
problems led to a dissatisfaction which produced a certain reaction in the 15 We here have in mind the work of
the followcrs, rat her tha n of the pioneers
years immediately after the second world war. But the reaction led no- of ' organic' architecture. Compare m, 3,
where. Most of its attempts were accidental improvisations without con- note t02.

nection with the actual problems, and only satisfied short-dated sentimental 16 We have already proved tha t propor-
tional systems, such as Le Corbusier's Mo-
needs. Both the Scandinavian empiricism ' and the Swiss -Heimatstil ' d ulor. do not satisfy thi, deman d.
were episodes withou t possibilities for development and growth. The archi- 17 See Ill . 3 , no te 122.
tects regardin g themselves as belonging to the modern movement, however,
also express fundamental differences of opinion. Two basic creeds dominate
the situation: the 'organic ' , represented by architects as different as Wright
and Aalto, and the ' technological' , represented by Mies van der Rohe.
The latter continue the tecnical tradition of the nineteenth century, while 101
the former find this approach ' sterile ' and inhuman. The ' technological'
architects, for their part , only see chaos and subjectivism in the' organ ic'
prod ucts. 15,
Most of modern architecture suffers from an inner contrad iction as it
is still' composed' according to obsolete ideas like prop ortion and balance.
The free plan, however, requ ires flexibility. In other words, it does not
admit an y fixed 'balancing' of the parts. We have seen that this problem
was solved in the Cr ystal Palace. The insight offered by such examples 100
leads to the programmatic abolishment of all absolute forms. At the same
time we understand that a new kind of coherence is possible, a coherence
which is not founded on ' etern al ' rules of harmony . Instead, a basic for-
mative principle is repeated throughout the structure . Paradoxically we
realize that only a clear structure offers freedom . The goal is a multitude of
possibilities formed by means of a determined principle. 16 T he problem,
thus, is to unify the ' organic ' and the 'technological' tendencies. The
freedom of the 'organic ' form s, their richness of expression and adapt-
ability to different situations only become real through a combination with
the clear construction of technological architecture. In this way modern 102
architecture may fulfil its own prom ises, the tradition of the last 15 0 years.
The modern movement is the only true tradition of the present because
it under stands that historical continuity does not mean borrowed motives
and ideals, but human values which have to be conquered in always new
ways. 17

20 6
 It is not enough, however, to ask for an integration of the ' organic '
and ' technological ' tendencies. An architecture where free plans are or-
dered by a clear construction does not necessarily warrant the desired
visual order. It is just as important that every building (x prus(s its char-
acter, In t1H= present situation we can hardly distinguish between a church
and a garage. Evidently this is not mainly due to defective single building s,
but above all to the lack of distinct building typn II The different building
tasks can be classified according to common properties (such as their degree
of flexibility). The classes have to be correlated with building types capab/(
of variation, where technical systems play a formative role. 19 Only in this
way can the demand for standardization and industrialization be satisfied,
at the same time as we acquire a diDu ( ntiat( d visual order; " The devalu-
ation of the modern forms which has taken place after the war is also
counteracted. The modern forms have developed through experimentation
and the fight against borrowed motives. But they have never been ordered ,
they have never become a real formal languag( . T his is the basic problem
tha t the present generation of modem architects has to face; " and it can
only be solved through the formation of types. The types must be in-
terrclated in such a way that they form a hierarch y corresponding to
the task-structure.
20 7
l _
n .-\rchitectura l histor)' ,hows that the de-
velopment of types is essential to the archi -
tectur al system.
19 The t;dtn icaJ. system must above all take
the varying dem ands for flexibility into COD
. ideration .
:!O Staooardil-2tion i . not a new demand .
It has, however. Irc:orne problematic because
of the anarchic subjec tivism of the nineteenth
century.
21 T oday the pioneers are old. T hey o~ned
10 2
up fundamental new possibilities and have
managed to keep up with the development .
Th e following geDeratiOIl did not give a simi
lar contr ibution. It i. a well-known bet tha t
what i. new needs rime to penetra te, or
rat her, the ideas of the piODI"S are tested,
d~ed , and led into many blind aJleys be-
fore a third ' generation acquires the general
understa nding w hich is needed to carry on
the bask trends of the DeW tradi tion.
3. Analysis

T he concept ' architectural analysis' comprises several investigations which I We do not imply that th~ individual Pfa~'
rising architect has to pos~s this insight. only
do not belong to the architectural theory proper. We may study particular that he should have analytic>l tools at his
building tasks, as well as means and ready solutions. The investigation di spot.al which hav~ ~n d~vdoped on an
historical basis.
of tasks and means serves the production of work s of architectur e, while
2 Archit CClural criticism thus form s a pari
the study of already existing solutions is an historical discipline. All types of architectural hi,to ry.
of investigation presuppo se a comprehensive archite ctur al theory. We h ave
shown that any analysis is impossible without theoretically determined
dimensions of comparison. At the same time, however, we have requested
that the dimensions should have the character of empirical generalizations.
Thi s means that the analysis uses the theory, while the theory, in turn, is
developed through analytical insight. Theory and analysis, therefore, recip-
rocally correct each other, applying the method of 'successive apprcxi-
marion ". The type of analysis which contributes to the theoretical forma-
tion is mainly the study of existing works of architecture. Architectural
theory thus abstracts from architectural history. An integrated theory needs
an historical basis. As the analysis of tasks and means p re su ppo~ s a theory,
we can infer that historical insight is essential to the solution of actual
building taks. I The investigations which directly serve the solution of
concrete tasks may be called research, while the analysis of existing solutions
is designated as architectural history. In addition, we will introduce archi-
tectural criticism as a separate discipline. Rather than explain an historical
development, the criticism has to decide whether an actual solution solves
the task in question. 2 All three disciplines employ the theory to analyse
tasks, means and their relations. Research is naturally mainly concerned
with the tasks and the means as such, but also introdu ces experiment s to
discover whether supposedly correct solutions are really satisfactory. History
indicates the intentional poles behind the existing solution, while criticism 3 It ,eem, that Ihi, i, done on the basi. of
the a" umpt ion that the technical problem,
investigates whether the task has been defined adequately, and if it has can be isolated, and that it is possible to g;ye
found a semantically valid realization. architecture an objectiye technical foundat ion.
1 We start , however, to grasp the general
RESEARCH character of the problem .
5 Such a, the cX perimClIl, of Maslow and
Architectural research may, according to the theory, be divided into task- Mintz and the ecological research reprc, ellled
research, form-research, and technical research. We have already shown in Scandinavia hy Gregor Paulsson.
that the three branches are interdependent. Th e problems within one
branch influence the others, and they ought to be studied with the aid of
frequent cross-references. Such integrated architectural research is so far
hardly existing, both because of the lack of a theoretical foundation, and
because existing research specializes on technical problems," We will there-
fore indicate some of the problems which seem basic within each branch.
The task-research should render an account of the components of con-
crete building tasks, and should integrate these as outlined in the section
on ' the building task as a whole ' . The goal of task-research is to arrive
at a basis for the definition of building programmes. In te past the building
tasks were given as relatively fixed parts of the cultural tradition. Archi-
tectural history shows that the tasks were not defined in terms of physical
control or physical fun ctions alone, but had the character of tota l problems.
Th is ' qualitative ' or synthetic interpretation of the tasks has been destroyed
by the pseudo-analytical attitude which has come to dominate today. Th e
physical objects are more easily accessible to scientific analysis, while the
information we need to approach the symbol-milieu is still only in part
available. 4 Today, however, we may again start to aim at the definition
of total synthetic tasks. Instead of grasping them intuitively, theoretically
aided analysis offers an objective basis. This is needed, as the tasks have
become ever more complex and varied. In the present situation it is of
the greatest importance to restore the symbol-milieu, and task research
therefore has to concentrate upon the psychological, social, and cultural
problems connected with the organization of our environment. We have
already mentioned several studies which give interesting contributions. 5
The investigation of the symbol-milieu should be correlated with the study
of architectural form. It is very important, for instance, to render an
account of the capacity of particular formal structures. The form-research,

210
therefore, should describe the ' effects' which result from the variation of 6 We could ~l w im ~gine 'p"ei.ol in.titute.
for ' m i l ieu -rese~rch ' .
space-form, materials, dimensions, illumination, etc. Such investigations
'7 Jorgensen , Indl~dnitlg_ .. , p. 'ft.
are preferably carried out at a school of architecture, which has at its
disposal architects, as well as psychologists, sociologists, and technical
specialists who can plan the research and co-ordinate the results," T he
first practical ' tool' needed is a very large room where full-scale models
of ' abstract ' architecture can be built. Such models should be made of
standardized elements which allow for flexibility and change. The study
of the symbol-milieu may also take advantage of the insight into the
relations between task and form offered by architectural history. To plan
the experiments and interpret the historical material, information from
auxiliary sciences such as psychology and sociology is needed.
An independent investigation of formal problems consists in the study
of the combination of elements to form Gestalten with defined properties.
Furthermore one has to describe the probability-structure and possibilities
for variation of styles. Th ese investigations may also employ full-scale
models, but visual experiments as known from experimental psychology,
graphical representations and small-scale models are more useful. When
investigating forms and their milieu-function, it is convenient to vary one
aspect at a time, while holding the others constant. In this way a full
understanding of the role of the single factors becomes possible. T o define
primary and secondary parts, it is practical to indicate what can be taken
away without destroying the whole. 7 The form-research also has to utilize
the infinitely rich material offered by architectural history, not only to
supplement the ' laboratory' experiments, but also to help in planning
the latter ones more conveniently.
It would carry us too far to treat the technical research in further
detail. We only want to stress that the system- aspect ought to be given
more attention that has been the case so far.

HISTORY

When developing our theory of architecture we mainly considered the

individual work of architecture. The individual work, however, has to
be seen in an historical context to be full y understood. Th e historical
context, on the other hand, results from kn owledge about single works .
Generalizations made when analyzing a limited number of works are
applied to other cases and may in this way be revised and refined. We
therefore have to do with three interdependent constructs; the description
of the single work , the historical development, and the architectural theory.
A developed theory enables us to penetrate into the individua l work as
well as the historical context. The analysis of the single work consists in
the indication of its intenti onal poles and architectural quality, and in
determining its historical position. The intentional poles arc not only
formal, but also pragrnatical and semantical.
g We have mentioned that several -l eading
art historians have seen their main task as
th e d evelopment of ' basic' stylistic concepu.
Th is has often led to a neglect of the indi-
vidual work of an. Reacting against this ten-
dency, Zevi defines architectural history as a
series of individual an alyses and monogr aphs
on archit ects. This, however, is to go too hr
in the opposite direct ion. as the ind ividual
analyse, presuppose the historical constructs.
(See Zevi; ' il,rchirett ura ' , in Encidopdia
Unioersale dd/'Arl() . For a , urvey of "the
methods used in art history sce G. Pauls'on :
Ko,mhistoriu u For(m M, Upp, ala ' 943.

The analysis has to be aided by several special investigations. Firstly, 9 Th is only happens if the architect in
q ue' tion playcd a leading role 1lI his timc.
it is often necessary to know how the work was carried out from the
10 Roman architectul e offers a f"'nicula r
moment the commission was given, through the planning of the architect, clue to the d ating of the monum ent', the
to the finished realization. Secondly, it is important to possess a chronology brick ,tam p', Kahler (Hadrian und seine
Villa) to a large extent bases his chronology
of related monu ments, where the work in question can be put in its proper on these.
place. Such a chronology should be something more than a mere series
of dates. So far the dates have been supplemented with the history of styles
and the history of technics. T heoretical insight enables us to develop these
histories in a more precise way, at the same time as it indicates the need
for a history of building tasks, a history of semantical relations, and a
history of architectural systems. Architectural history, however, is not the
history of the architects. " The monographical treatmen t of an architect
only functions as a convenient sum ming-up of certa in historical pheno-
mena. Rarely, however, does it grasp the essential historical conditions. 9
The history of the realization of the individual work has to be recon-
structed on the basis of documents , preserved drawi ngs, and archaeological
investigation. Among the aims of the last-mentioned is to find out if one part
was made before or after another one. It presupposes technical and formal
insight. 10 T he history of the single work may be controlled and revised
by means of an analysis of its structural properties. A reconstruction of
the origin al or intended state is done on the same basis . In general it is
necessary to reconstruct the intended solution in order to be able to carry
through a meaningful analysis.
A chronology of monuments should not only consist of a collection
of dated works, but should also compr ise surveys and other reproductions

2 12
(photographs ctc.). T he chronology is a necessary aid to historical research, II An architectural hi,tory. therefore, can.
not carry through a strier chronologieal pre_
but it does not offer any secure picture of the historical process, as related senullion.
phenomena may appear at diDert nt times in different places. 11 12 In times of tran sition what was self.
Th e history of styles has to render an account of the development and eYideDt becom es p roblematic. and therdore
subject to d iscussion and study.
succession of formal structures. It docs not only order the styles chronolo-
lJ A short survey is gi~n in H . Straub :
gically, but tries to show how they arise: and become ' worn out' . Periods Gudlidf/e de,- Baui"g~i~k"'UI, 1951 .
of transition will be of special interest. 12 The history of styles presupposes 14 See Sedlmajr : X..,," .."i W"Arhtit .
an exhaustive understanding of architectural form. It may to a certain p.usi", .
extent make use: of technical terms (such as 'beam' , "column" , etc.),
and the history of technics, on the other hand, has to take the formal
characteristics of the technical systems into consideration. Th e history of
technics has to render an account of the materials employed, the methods
of working the materials, the methods used when erecting the buildings,
and the co-operation of these factors within the technical systems. B
The history of building tasks forms a necessary part of a complete
architectural history, and should also play an important role in cultural
history. We have seen that the social and cultural conditions arc reflected
in the building tasks, and because of the participation of architecture in
almost all human activities, the history of building tasks may contribute
substantially to the solution of general historical problems. T he building
tasks are described by means of the dimensions outlined above) and hier-
archies of leading and secondary tasks should be indicated.
T he history of semantical relations treats the more special problem
of the changing forms of representation (symbolization). Th e problem,
however, is of central importance to the understanding of an epoch, and
an architectural history omitting the semantical dimension would fall
to pieces.
It is fully possible to limit oneself to one of the historical disciplines
outlined above. Because of the vast material, such a limitation is usually
necessary. Th e special, limited investigations, however, will remain frag-
ments if they are not unified in a history of architectural systems. Th is
history has the architectural totalities as its subject-matter and causes archi-
tectural history to become a branch of the history of art. 14
We understand that all the historical disciplines are interdependent,
and have to be regarded as abstractions from a complete, synthetic history

21 3
 l ~ The Smlt wo,d s are often u~ . but witb
of architecture. So far the individual disciplines are only in part worked
different and iII-defi ncd meanings.
out, and we cannot expect to approach completeness soon, even if a large
number of scholars should pool their results. The integrated theory of
architecture, however, helps us to overcome this difficulty. Also, if the
theory is based upon a limited amount of empirical material, we are
allowed to believe that its main characteristics will remain valid when
the empirical material increases. Because it interprets the problems which
concern us as a logically coherent whole, it is capable of organizing the
results of the single historical disciplines. T he theory, so to speak, acts
as a co-ordinate system where the results are assigned their proper place.
Slowly the puzzle becomes complete, and it is possible that this process
will demand a certain revision of the co-ordinate system itself. Thanks
to the theory we may therefore carry out meaningful architectural analyses
and organize the results into an historical construct. As already mentioned,
this is possible because the theory offers a common taminology where
the terms have defined relations to each other. The terminology used
today is incoherent, contradictory, and subjective. As an example we
have referred to the misuse of the word space'. T he co-ordination of
the individual investigations is only possible by means of a developed
terminology, and the solutions of the concrete problems outlined in this
study is only possible with the aid of a common terminology. Th e
establishment of a convenient terminology, therefore, is what is above
all needed in the present confused situation.

C R.ITICISM

Fruitful architectural criticism also presupposes a common terminology.

Today criticism generally limits itself to the judgement ' of more or less
arbitrarily chosen properties of the work in question. It is not easy to
~mpare different criticisms of the same work, because of the dissimilar
terms employed. l~ What the theory tells us about the architectural quality
is of basic importance to criticism. T he semantical correspondence between
task and means, for instance . is essential. A work of architecture is above 2
all judged by investigating if the form ' fits' the task, or if the solution 99
rather has to be characterized as formalistic ' . If a satisfactory semantical

2 I4
correspondence is lacking, the criticism may be considered complete if 16 It may vary where it is convenient 10
start the analysis. It is essential that all the
it poinFs out this state of affairs. But if the correspondence exists, one semiotical dim~n.ion hould be considered.
has to go on investigating whether the task has been defined properly 11 One should for instance talk about opti.
and the form articulated adequately. If the task is only in part defined, mal light intensity in connection with d iffer-
~nt building ta. ks. nther than minimum
that is, if only some of the necessary poles arc intended, we have to reject window meaSUreS. Cily planning in p.articular
the solution, even if it is cleverly done. This is often overlooked in present- ha. been unfortunalely hampered by Ihi. type
of regulation.
day criticism, which considers the finished work from the point of view
of l' An pour l'A rt, Th e criticism, in other words, should ask whether
the solution is a real solution to the task in question, or if it is only more
or less pleasant, but irrelevant. It is possible to consider the form separately
if one knows the style it belongs to. When doing this, the solution can
be characterized as contradictory, meaningless, or original. If contradictory
dements arc present, the solution cannot at once be rejected. To judge
it, we have to find out if this state of affairs is intended, in other words,
if the formal contradictions manifest a conflict-structure inherent in the 52
building task. 16
Pertinent criticism is essential to sound architectural development,
and the critic therefore has the greatest responsibility. He should be
without preconceived ideas and possess a complete theoretical insight.
The theory not only offers the terminology, but also the analytical
methods needed.
To conclude we may say that the purpose of architectural analysis
is to investigate actual tasks and means, to furnish the historical insight
we need to 'explain ' the architecture of other periods, and to solve our
own concrete problems. It should also be mentioned that the analysis
offers the basis for a judicious building-code. Th e building-code ought to
facilitate the creation of satisfactory architectural totalities, rather than
amputate the solutions through fragmentary regulations. 17 Th e legislation
should not consist of fixed norms, but rather have the character of direc-
tives where the higher poles arc considered. In principle the regulations
must be variable and interdependent, in accordance with the structure
of the actual architectural system.

2 15
4. Education

It is natural to conclude our discussion of the applications of the theory
of architectur e with a few words on the problem of architectural
education.
Architectural education comprises all the single problems we have
outli ned. because it is obvious that the architect as a professional man
has to possess a complete under standing of his field . T his does not mean
that he has to know all the facts furnished by historical and actual research.
Toda y this knowledge has become so vast that it is hardly possible for an
I T his is obviously the WIle of afbirs Vi
truviu. had in mind when he requested th n
the archi l't should posoeu me moot diverse
quaii&atiom (I , I ). He oughl to be a erafts-
man, a ~I<ilful draughts:m~n. a m:on of 1m .,...,
a malhenutician. b miliar wim historical
siooies. a diligent stude nt of ph~phy , ae
quaiorcd with music, DDt ignora nt of roMi-
c ee, learned in the responses of juriJ.consU lti .
and familia r with astronomy and artrono mica.l
c.akulationi ' ,

individual to master the whole field. Neither can we expect that the
architect is automatically capable of solving every building task, or of
judging every finished solution. But he has to possess the methodical
insight which makes this theoretically 'possible for him. In other words,
he has to have a full comprehension of the organization of his field, its
types of tasks and means. In this way he can understand his own rela-
tively specialized knowledge as a part of a more extensive context. The
architect should know the general principles determining the activities
of experiencing, producing, and analyzing architecture, which implies
tha t he also has to know the integrated theory of architecture. T he
architect is hardly able fully to solve any task without the general insight
furni shed by the theory, both because architecture is a synthetical activity,
and because the ind ividual building task forms a part of a hierarchy of
tasks. l Only when seeing his field in this comprehensive way does he
become a real professional. The architect cannot expect to be respected
as long as he neglects his responsibility by permitti ng open conflicts
between the different solutions.
One of the most important insights offered by architectural theory
is that a building task cannot be solved through intuitive improvisation.

21 7
The architect has to learn his ' craft ', which is something much more
than ability in draw ing. In the past his education consisted of a long
and thorough training in the studio of an acknow ledged master, where
the architect-to-be was taugh t to use a formal language and the practical
methods serving its realizations. " The unity of theory and practice was
a matter of course, a unity which has only been destroyed in our time by
the architect's fear of not being spon taneously ' artistic'. 3 The first step
towards a restoration of this unity is the development of an integrated
theory of architecture. In the past the tasks were rather invariant, and
2 That the architect WJ, initiated to a
meaningful architectural system is illustrJ ted
by the importance the Med;J eval ma ,om at-
tJchcd to the preservation of the ir professionJl
secret' . Their practical.th eoretical insight WJS
regard ed as someth ing ' sacred ' , Jnd was thus
protectcd agJinst misunderstandings and de
VJluation. ( S~ P . Fran kl : Th e Secret of th c
Mediaeval Masons", in Art Bullnin XXVII.
1945)
3 T his fCJr stcm, from the denluJtion of
Jrchitcctuul theory in th e nineteenth century.

the theory could have the character of relatively fixed and limited rules.
Today the adaptation to frequent changes has become imperative, and
the theory, therefore, should be an ' empty' but logically coherent and
compre hensive system whi-ch is capable of covering all architectural
problems. Modern theory, in other words, should be valid for all archi-
tectural systems, while the theories of the past were tied to single systems.
The education is not complete with the acquisition of a satisfactory
theoreticaf insight. We have seen that the creative faculty proper, the
ability of solving complex tasks through concretization, is only developed
by means of exercises. The intentions compri sed by the task, however,
are not learned through these exercises, but have to be taught more
directly. The un ity of theory and practice, thus, is basic from the outset.
We could also say that the education consists of a theoretical and a
practical part which are interrelated. In addition we need training in
architectural perception to make the theoretical kn owledge become alive,
and to give the production an adequate intentional depth. Train ing in
architectural analysis is also necessary to make the teaching become
somethi ng more than a mere transmission of information . Through analy-
tical exercises the theory should, so to speak, be developed anew by the
students. Analogously the students have to learn to define the tasks
adequately through training in task-analysis, instead of receiving complete
programmes from the teacher. Only in this way can the student compre-
hend that building means the solution of social and cultur al problems,
rather than the erection of houses of a certain number of square metres.
T he education, therefore, must develop the faculties of integration (con-
cretization), analysis, and experience, and must also furnish the general

218

cultural background necessary to give the intentions an adequate depth.
Before we take a closer look at the organization of this type of training,
we should say a few words about the situation of architectural education
today. 4
When saying that the architectural situation is confused, this necessarily
implies that the training of the architects is unsatisfactory. Th e schools
have shown themselves incapable of bringing forth architects able to
~ It i, impm,ible and unncccssary to give
a survey of all the d idactical met hods used
at prclen!. We will only take a look at lome
of tbe more radical att empts at a 5UIution of
the educ ational problem.
5 For an expo.irion of the un, ati,factory situ.
ation of architect ural ed ucation ,ee Gicd ion :
.ArchiI4 tm ,,,,J
Gemei"sc".1/t , pp. 50 If.
6 x" tbe ficst }I,mball$ manifesto, in Bllu-

solve the actual tasks. " Th ese difficulties are not of a too recent date. "<Jus 19t<j-:18, Sew Yor k 1938, p. 6.
7 So: A. Dorner: The Background of the
In the nineteenth cemury Ruskin. Morris and others pointed to the
Rauhau. , in B" .. ""us 191'}-28 , p. 9.
insufficie ncy of architectural education. and the same was done by van 8 Gropi... : Idee .. "d A .. fbau ...
de Velde around the turn of the century. Th e first real attempt at an
9 ' True CTCali"e work ean J,., d one on ly by
improvement is represented by the foundation of the Bauhaus in 191 9. the man who><: kno wlalge a.nd mnlety of
T he first programme of Walter Gropius, who led the school, can be the physic.al law , of .unc>, d ytu.min , optics,
and WlUstics equip h im 10 give life and shaf'C'
understood as a continuation of the ideas of Morris. Gropius wanted to 10 hii inner ,i. ion . (Gropius : Tran, lation of
counteract the architects' lack of contact with reality through a thorough lJu und Au/btl.... .. ill Bauhaus 19/9" JS ,
P. 12).
training in the crafts, " The academies, on the other hand, supported
the rArt pour rArt attitude, and regarded the assimilation of absolute
ideals of beauty as the purpose of education. To reach this goal one
copied' perfect ' models from the past. The Mediaeval craftsman, however,
was antagonistic to this attitude, and the first Bauhaus manifesto, therefore,
showed Fcininger' s woodcut of a Gothic cathedral on its cover. T oday
it may seem surprising that the radical Bauhaus found its point of depar-
ture in the romantic movements of the nineteenth centur y, but its pro-
gramme was anyway regarded as a challenge to the dignity of the
academies. Th e school started its activity under public pretests." Th e
programme, however, was considerably changed during the first years
and found its final form in 1923. 8 The importance of the crafts was still
emphasized, but at the same time a new demand for adaptation to the
industrial means of production was made. T he school also replaced the
original expressionist tendencies with an 'objective' aesthetics, shunning
history and seeking a foundation in scientific knowledge. 9 These new
goals were manifested in an educational programme which left out all con-
ventions. In principle the training was divided into two parts, Werkle!lrt'
and Formlehre, Th e first comprised materials, tools, and methods of
production, while the second was concerned with a training of the eye

2 19
(perception) and creative acnvmes (composition, representation). The 10 Gropius : op. cn., p. 2~.

elementary aspects of both parts were unified in an introductory course II Gropiul: op. cir., pp- 22-23.

called Vorlchrc, which aimed at freeing the student from his pre~ 12 Gropius : op. cu., P' 26.

conceptions and at the same time releasing his creative faculties. 10
Werkldzrc and Porm lehrc were co-ordinated through common tasks, and
the goal was 'the collective work of art . in which no barriers exist
between the structural and the decorative arts'. 11 Th e need for co-
operation, therefore, was emphasized, and the individual was taught to
understand his problems as parts of a wider context. 12 T he demand for
industrial adaptation led to ideas like standardization and mass-production,
ideas which are still just as valid. 13 We have to stress the wide-ranging
influence exercised by the Bauhaus and point to the vast practical results
attained du ring its relatively short life. With justification it can be said
that the school laid the foundation for a new ' international style ' . 14
When the school was closed by the Nazi authorities, several of its leading
members emigrated to the United States, where they went on working
for the same goals. I' After the second world war the Bauhaus ideas were
introduced in several countries. 16 At the same time, however, critical
voices began to be heard.
We may leave out the sentimental reactions which have always been
present since the first days of the Bauhaus in Weimar, and rather take
a look at the criticisms brought forth by certain of the members of the
new H ochschule fiir Gcstalrung in Ulm. This school was founded after
the last war as a ' New Bauhaus' , but it soon became evident that the
Bauhaus methods no longer led to the desired results. 11 Th e spokesman
of the school, Tomas Maldonado, points to the contradiction that the
products of the Bauhaus have become museum pieces, while we still
believe in the didactical principles from which they stem. I! Maldonado
especially attacks the idea of ' freeing ' the individual's faculty of spon-
taneous self-expression through a Vorku r!. 19 H e emphasizes that the
Vor kur! is the backbone of the Bauhaus tradition. But the Vor kur! has
generally shown itself unable to adapt the individual to the real object
world of our society, and may rather lead to a new formalism. Instead
Maldonado suggests an education founded on the principles of scientific
operationalism. H e proposes a replacement of the intuitive attitude by
1J As the g OJ I Oeepius ICes 'me greate. t
p<>'Sible stand ardization with the grea test PO"
.ihle var iatio n of form ' , and the city should
censlst of 'form elements of typical shape
repeated in .eries' (op. cit. , pp . 18.19)'
H Gropius, howevcr, rejects the word
, . tyle ' and talks instead about Ei"hdl in
der Vie//olil . It i. here merely a que. tion of
the choice of terms. (see S. Gicdion : ' Da.
Bauhaus und seine Zeit ' , in Bauk.mil und
WukJorm, No. a , 1 2).
t' M Oil importa nt i. the foundation of the
Chicago Institute of Design under Moholy-
Nagy in 1937.
16 T he Bauhaus pril'lCiplcs were inU"od uced
to the teachcn of the Scandi navian arts and
craflS schools during II SU mmer COurK in
i n>trueto~
0 .10 in 1952. with four visiting
from the Institute of Design .
.7 Sec C. Norbcrg.Schu!1: 'Ehperiln"nl i
Ulm ', in Bygg"k" "st NO3, 1959.
lA T . ~aldonlldo : ' Neue F.ntwicllungcn in
'; er lndusc-ie und die Ausbildung deo Pm-
duklgestahcn', in UUI a, p. 38.
19 tobldon.ado: op . eh., p. 39.

2 20
an exact analysis of the problems and the means to their solution. He thus 2tI Maldcnado : op. cit. , p. 39.

wants to give the dements entering the analysis concrete operational !l $c,e G. Lindahl : 'Von der ZukunfukJ.
lhcdn le bit zur Wohnm a5Chine,. in ld~a
definitions. ~ Th e didactical philosophy of Ulm, therefore, is d ear enough : a1lJ Forni, Figun-Xew &ria I . Stockholm
it is against art and architecture when understood as taste and arbitrary 1')5 9. pp. :!60 ff.

invention. It advocates instead a planning based on knowledge of man 12 .J,. corn:spondinR dCRcocn tion i5 found
in the later pcnooal woek of Gropiu5 and
and society. urecer. T he lark of u p-to-date infonn ation
Th ere can be no doubt that the criticism of Maldonado has some bcromc:s evident in Gropius' obsolete tI"Cat-
ment of perceptual and formal problems
justification. At the same time, however, we need the experiences of the un,it r the head ing ' Gibt es cine Wisseascbaft
Bauhaus to develop a satisfactory architectural training. The programm e ,ler Gcstaltung ", in Arch ;t~kwr , pp. 26 IT.
of the Bauhaus surely contained a basic contradiction, in wanting simul-
taneously to free the' self-expression ' and to create a new common formal
language. T he wish for self-expression' must be understood as a re-
miniscence of the first expressionistic phase of the school, while the later
ideas in part stem from the influence of the Dutch Stijl movement, 2.
We may also question the continuation of the training in the crafts after
the realization of the importance of the industrial methods of production.
But the contradictions arc overemphasized and partly misunderstood by
Maldonado. Th e idea of freeing the individual can also be interpreted as
a freeing of his faculty as a co-ordinator, that is, the ability to synt hesize
and concretize the components entering the architectural totality. Gropius
has over and over again stressed the architect's role as a co-ordinator and
suggested that it is connected with his artistic faculties. T he integrated
theory of architecture proves the correctness of the intuition of Gropius.
But it is another question whether the concretizing faculty of the architect
can be developed by means of the VOTI~h Tc of the Bauhaus, The VO TI~h T~
was determined only by the characteristics of the materials and the tools,
Th U!J it easily degenerated into a ITt( play wi th forms. Th is was not
due to basically wrong didactical principles, but followed from a lack of
auxiliary_information from the sciences." Th e W ~TI~hT( and FOTm l~h T~
of the Bauhaus may therefore be considered as positive attempts at an
improvement of the education. (On the basis of an integrated theory of
architecture we should reinterpret the Wak1ehre and the Formlehre as
technical research ' and ' form-research' including practical exercises).
T he Bauhaus showed an intuit ive understanding of the architectural
totality and of the role of the architect. The time, however, was not yet

22 1
ripe for the development of lasting didactical methods. " In any case, the
Bauhaus cleared the way for an adequate education by abandoning obsolete
23 ObY iou,l y the method s ha ve to be flex-
ible ~nd ada pted to ch anging practical and
social problems. This, however, doo nnt
r
principles and by indicating basic new problems. The reason why the prevent them from always bdng based upon
the lame general theory of architectu re. T he
methods have hardly proceeded beyond the Bauhaus since, is obviously theory also warran ts that the didactical meth -
the lack of a theoretical foundation which can bring order into the ods are not changed in 3D arbitrary way.
whole field. 24 For instance the 'V isuelle Mcthodik'
described by A. Frolhaug in UL M t , p. ~ .
This is also the reason behind the lacking success of the Hochschu1e
2~ See GNflldld lO'C in UL V I, p. ~.
fur Gestaltung. The more 'exact ' attitude propagated by the latter school
is not based upon an integrated theory and becomes just as arbitrary as
the free play with forms at the school following the Bauhaus tradition. H
T he school in Ulm , in spite of the criticism mentioned above, has also
taken over certain didactical schemes from the Bauhaus. The education
thus starts with a Gru ndlchre." and the workshops have also been inherited.
T rue, the tasks are defined differently, but it is a question if the didactical
changes are radical enough. Without losing the valuable insight gained
by the Bauhaus, it seems necessary to get rid of the prejudice that the
training has to be based upon an introductory course which aims at
freeing the individual (Bauhaus), or perhaps at giving him a general back-
ground for his study (VIm). Just as unsatisfactory, of course, are the more
conventional methods practised at most architectural schools, where the
diffe rent subjects are taught in splendid isolation. Statics, technics,
planning, illumination, form, etc. are still commonly taught independently,
and without connection with concrete building tasks. Th e building tasks,
furthermore, arc presented as conventional building types, without raising
the question whether the types are satisfactorily defined. The general
principles for the definition of tasks and for the articulation of forms
are not studied.
T he point of departure for an adequate architectural education nat-
urally has to be the student's wish to become an architect. Th e student
has to be trained in the creation and understanding of architect ural
totalities, and nothing else. We have seen that such totalities are very
complex and that they are characterized by the interdependence of their
parts. Experience shows that it is impossible to grasp such totalities ' from
below ", by learning something about their ingredients, and afterwards
trying to combine these. (Today the student is even asked to create

222
 totalities whose ingredients he has not yet heard about!) Th e first demand 26 Th is [~s k h ~s I,.,m prop"'Nl by H . Ry_
varden , a Torndb eim archite<;[.
is therefore that the problems the students have to face shall be complete.
27 In'lcad of .t~rting with ' completc frag
From the very beginning the problems presented have to comprise all ments', lhc education has to take its point
the aspects which characterize a typical architectural totality: building of departu~ in an "pproximatc ioea of the
whole.
task, form, technics, and semantical relations between these factors. When
solving the problem, the factors have to be considered simultaneously.
The building task should be defined in terms of its physical and symbolic
dimensions, and form and construction must be developed in accordance
with this definition. Such a synthetic problem may seem insurmountable
for a beginner, but well-suited possibilities really exist. As the first problem,
for instance, we may take a cam p, where a group of persons shall exercise
simple functions within an adequate ' architectural' frame. T he functions
concern the individual as well as the group. T he elements making up
the camp (tents, huts), should be solved within certain given technical
limits (such as the materials available on the spot), and the elements
have to be formed and grouped to fit their purpose. 26 Th e next step taken
during the education should consist in the presentation of a second, more
complex synthetical problem, until we reach the city and the region as
the most comprehensive totalities. Thi s does not imply that the education
should end with city-planning. We understand, on the contrary, that the
urbanistic dimension is already included in the first problem. As the
urbanistic dimension can be characterized as a unifying factor which
orders the hierarchy of building tasks, it is essential that it participates
from the beginning. Th e synt hetical problems also help to develop the
student's ability to co-operate and to realize that the single task forms
a part of a larger context. "
What has been said above does not imply that the training only
consists in the solution of a few synthetical problems. We have seen
that the single dimensions of the architectural totality have a certain
independence. It is possible to present certain technical and formal
problems which are solved in isolation. But it is important that these
also are related to synthetic problems, to make the student understand
that they mean a continuation of problems connected with a concrete archi-
tectural totality. Th eoretical insight which is transmitted verbally also
becomes alive when related to an architectural totality which the student

t
 :!8 The outlines art given in Flcre tanker
knows from his own concretizing activity. Analogously the teachin g of
omkrin& :u-l.itekruld ""nd5l:n by H . RyY.trdcll
architectural history should illustrate the concept architectural totality' and c" z..;orba-g-&hulz. A ~kitl!~/rlylt 196: .
through the analysis and criticism of examples. T his implies that archi-
tectural history should be presented as illu strations to the main syn thetical
problems, rather th an chronologically. In general we have to remember
tha t the student wants to become an architect, and that he is onl y open
to absorb satisfactorily knowledge which is clearly related to architectur e.
It would carry us too far to give the outl ines of a complete curriculum
based on these general principles. " W e should only emp hasize th at the
programme has to follow the organ ization of the architectural th eory,
to warrant an insigh t corresponding to the relevant goal-objects. The
theory describes architecture as an object, and it is of no interest to th e
architect as such to learn anything which does not belong to this object.
The education, therefore , should fam iliariz e the arc hitect-to-be with the
theory of architecture and its appl ications, a problem which ha s to be
solved through sim ultaneous training in anal ysis and concretization. It is
obvious that the contents of subjects like task, form, techn ics, and sema n-
tics will change with time and place, bu t the dimension s as such remain
the same and secure the historical contin uity of architectural education.
On ly on thi s basis are im provements easily carried through. To warrant
the unity of the school, the different subjects not only have to be co-
ordinated by means of synt hetical prob lems, but also at an 'institute for
general architectural research', which ha s the theory of architecture as
its particular subject-matter.
T he principles outlined above should not be confounded with a con-
ventional education which immediately asks the student to draw buildings .
Instead of tying ourselves to arleady existing types, we have to define
th e tasks anew. T he formation of types eventually becomes a part of
the solution .
It seems natural to take architecture as the point of departu re for
architectural education. But as far as we know, th is has never really been
done. Instead, one has taught abstract formal ideals or fragmentary
aspects of plann ing and technics. The reason, without doubt, has been
th e lack of an integrated theory of architecture wh ich defines and
co-ordinates the problem s.
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23 0
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23 2
 Index

t:
Aalto, A. : 13, 206, F ig. 101
Abstraction : 36, 49> 61, 171
Addition: 93. CJ7. 1'11 . 147. Fig. 20
A djustment: 37
Acsthdics : 14, 17. 18, 6] fl .
Alhtrti. L. B. : 88, 89. 91, 93, II 4, 122, 124. 152, 153, 175, 186, Fig. 17
Ambigui ty : 34. I,p . 150, Fig. 6
Ammannati, B. : F ig. 52
Analysis: 24. 30,5 1, 100, 102. 113. 2CJ9ff.
And rae, W . : 58, 110, I II , Fig. 24
Anth ropomorphism : 48, 89, 90
Architect : 13, 16, 20, 1M. 167, 201, 203, 204, 217. 222
Architccnlf al experience : 8s iI., 96, '17. 195 fl.
Architectural fra me : 14, III, 172
Architectural intention. : ICfJ, 179
Archnecnual system : 104, 182, 186
Architectural totality: I02ff., 169, 179ft, I ~, 186, 195, 222
Amhcim, R. : .p, 46, 71, 74, ]6, n. IJS. 145, Fig. 7. 10
Ar t : 20, 29, 62, 66, 6] ff., lOS, 122, 187
Arneulation : 58, 139, 151, 160, 166, 175, 18t , 184, 186
Arti fact : 116
r A Tt pour rArt : 19> 6] , 68, 71, 133. 195. 11)8, :ns, 219
Asplund , G.: 18
Atom ism : lOS
Att itude : 30 fl., 34, 62. 6s: fl., 81, 86, 19S, 196
Axiality: 143, 145, 150, 159. Fig. 62

Baldachine : 96, 99, 124. 139

Banality : 58, 50, 156, 157, 187
Ban dm ann, G. : 88,1 00, 110, 111, 123, 159, 183, 186
Baroque art (architecture) : 87, 92, 95, 97, ror, 120. 126, 135, 140, 141, 143, 146, 148,
154, 169, Fig. 13, 21, 22, 42, 43. 46, 50, 55, 96
Basilica : 106, 124, 183, F ig. 3-2
Bauhau s : 13, 18, Ig, 201, 21g, 220, 221, 222
Bergson, H. : 63

'33

t
Bernini, L. : 144
Borromin i, F. : 92, 99, 100. 1]8, I,p, 150, 198, Fig. I] . ar, 22, 42> 46, 50, 55
Boundar y : 96,99. I] ]. 137
Boundin g surface: 1O~), 134, 139> 1490 150, Fig. 41
Braman te, D . : 102. 145. 152, Fig. 68. 79
Braunfels, W .: 88. 118. 172
Brinckrnann, A. E. : 86. 98, 183
Brunelleschi, F.: 7, 93, 95, 104. 123, 143, 148. 151. 158. Fig. 16. 18, 59, 84
Brunswik., E.: 14. 27, 28, 29. 31, 32. 33, 34, 35. 36, 41, 4l> 47. 51, 53, 54, 62. 63. 68
Buhler. K. : 29, 35
Building task : 16, 18,21.2-3.88.102. 104. lOS. Iogfl. 12] fl. 160, 16]. 173. 175. 1']6.
In, 1790 ISs. 186, 195. 210
Building type: : 106. 153> 157. I&), 173. 18], 20]
By-produa : 10']. 180

Capacity : 106, ISS. 160. 175. In , 182

Caenap, R. : 29, 56. 57. 58, 59. 82
Cathexis: 65. 66. 68, 188
Cave: 12.5
Ceiling : 137
Centralization : 1] 6, 142, 145. Fig. 59
Change: 74, 82. 160
Cher. c.: 41.56. 60. 61. 151. 156. 158
ClAM : 13. 17
City plan ning : 103> 113. II4. 121. 129. 152, 153. 223
Civitas : 118, 172
C lassical architecture : 146, 149
Classical orders: 17, 91. 92. 98. 145
Classification : ]1. 53, 66. 132
Climate:: 113. n8, 154
Closure : 136, 40
Cluster : 116. 140. I'll, 147. Fig. 53
Coherence-system: ]4. 64. 10']
Cognition: 65. 66, 188
Clear construction : 149, 164. 166, 206, 20]
Colour: 135, 142
Column: u8, 149, 171
Comunication : 38. 60 e.. 117. 129
Concretization: 64. 66. 68, 71. n . 10']. 157. 188
Constanc y phenomena : 33. 43> 45, 198
Construaion: 161fl.
Content : 58, 63, 71, lOS. 1ft]
Continuity : 43,44. 1]4, 136, 14 1 151
Contradiction : 58
Convention : 56, 72, 145. 159. 16g

'34
Co nventional ~ign : 169, 170, 171. 172, 179
Cornell, E. : 86. 96. 105, 148 198
Co-ordinate syste m : 5'h 142 144. 145
Creative activit y: 74, 77. 78 79. 201
Cr iticism : 14. 15, 20, n . 209, 214 ff.
Cu ltural symbolization : I I I ff.
Cultural the me: 127
Cultu re: 48, 58. 79fl., 82. I:t3

Decorarion: 104. 150. ISS

della Porta. G. : 155
Depth : ' 7, 94
De script ion : 23, 51, 53 fT., 57, 61, 6.3, 69, go. 102. 132. 182. 195
Designed uncertainty : 157
Devaluatio n: 17, 126, 177, Fig. 2
Deviation : 78, 157. 158
Dicntzenhofcr, G.: 172, Fig. 96
Dicnrzenbofcr, J.: Fig. 42
D ifferentiation : I S, 38, I ll , 187
Dim ensicn : 54, 55, 102, 103, 127, 209
Div ision: 97, I'll, 147, Fig. 20
Dolmen : 125, 171, Fig. 34
Dome : 17. 149
Dorner, A. : 17, 20,36,2 19
Dyggve, E. : 1.24

Economy : 14. 162, 173, 188

Edu cation : 13, 18, 19, 19'J , 217 fT.
Eg),peian an (architectu re): 74. 110, 134. 137. 145, 147. Fig. So
Ehren fels, C. v.: 34. 43
Eh re nzweig, A. : 33, 150, 157
Einstein. A. : 55. 6c}
Elem ent : 61. 10). IF . 133 ff., 138, 148. 149, -50. 160, 16) . 16g
Empath y : 8g
Empiricism : 82
Enclosure : 43. 1I0
Environ me nt : 14. 17. 19, 21, 22, 32. 37. 103, l OS. 109. IIO. 112. 120, Hl 1
Eq uivocality: 35. 176
Euclid: 44. 46, 47, 48 54. 55, 74, 96, 101. lOS, 135. 140, 144. 172
Evaluation : 6), 66, 188
Exercise : 201. 218
Existence : 28
Ex pectatlcn : 37, 38. 39, 50, 6u if., 71, 158
Experience: 19, 22, 30. 32, 37, 38, 42, 71
Expressio n : 48, 49, 68, 73, 122

235
Fancy; 18, 156
Fashion ; 159
Feedback : 61, III, II ]
Feeling : 49, 68
Fehn, S. ; Fig. lO2
Fictive order; lO2, 164, 166, 1] 3, I8I, Fig. 90, 91
Fig ure ; 134, 136, 142, 144, 163
Figure-ground ; 136
Filter; II3, 1I8, 169, 1]4, Fig. 26
Flexibility: 114, lIS, II 6, 152, 16s, 205, 206, 20]
Floor : 13], 138
Form; 18, 19, 23, 45, 58, 61, 88, 89, 90, 94, 100, W I , 102, lO4, 10';' lO6, 131 fl., I48,
ISS, IftJ, 1] 0, 1]3, 1]4, 1]6, 177, 1]9> 188, 2OS, 2II
Fcnaalism : 181, 184, 185
Form al level : ]0, 99, 106, 150, 151, IS]
Forma l system: 149, 156, 1]3
Frame : 138, 153, Fig. 50
Francesco di Giorgio: 151, Fig. II, ]I
Frankl, P.: 8],97. ga, 141, 142, 154, 218, Fig. 20
Free plan; 145, 148, 149, 152, 2rYj
Frey, D.: ga,99, lO2, I05, II ] , 120, 146, 154, 198
Fuller, B.: I6s
Functi on : 14, 16, 19, 103, 114, 116, 166
Fu nctionalism : 16, I], 119, 128, 173, 185, 186
Functional frame : III, 112, II4 fl .
Functional level : 116, 128
Functional theme : II6, II]
Fusion : 97, I41, Fig. 56, 60, ] 0

Geisuswisunschaften: 66
Generalization: 30, 36, 38
Geometry: 55, 89, 135
Geometrical relations; 92, 144, I45, 147, 148, Fig. 58
Gesamtkunstwerk; ]4, I04, 126
Gestalt: 34,44,45, 46, 48,93,94,97,99, 100, WI, l OS, 133. 135, 139, 140, 142, 148, 166, 198
Gestalt law ; 45, Fig. 6
Gestalt quali ty : 34, 45, 134, 135
Gibson, J. J.: 45
Giedion, S.: 13, 14, 15, 16, I], 18, 20, 81, II9, 129, 205, 219, 220
Goa l-cbject : t4
Gothic architecture: 99, 102, 124, 135, 136, 1}8, 139, 160, 164, 168, 1] 4, Fig. 33, 50, 5]
Gratification : 39, 6s, 66
Greek art (architecture); 91, 96, II ] , 120, 121, 125, 126, 142, 143, 146, 148, 149, 151,
180, 198, Fig. 29, 61
Gropius, W. ; 13,19. 159,219, 'V.). 221

23
Ground : 136, 163
Grou p : 97, 106, 116, 140, 146. 147, 154
Gru ndb~griU~ : 69, 95
Guiding elements: 143, Fig. 60, 6s:
H abit : 59, 120
H ierarchy : 106, 120, 151
H istor icism : 17, 18, 23, Fig. 2, 77
H istory of architecture : 18. 19, 23, 184, 199, 2Ol), 211 if., 224
H ochschule fur G(:su ltung : W I, 2 20, 221, 222
H orizontal-vert ical i 44, 144
H uman body : 91
H ume, D. : 92
H yporhesis: 35, 54, 55
Icon : 71, 72, 1]0. 171
Iconography. Jconology : 69, 105
Ideology : 66, 173
Illumination : 96, 103. 135, 154. 19B
Illusion : 34. 64, 77. 19'3, 199, Fig. 5
Imitation : 390 40
Industr ialization : 15. 16, In
Infomution : 6ofl. , 70, 158
Institution : 40, 119
Intention : 31, 36, 41, 73, 78, 218
Int entional depth. 31, 35, 42, 195, 196
Intentional pole: 34. 50, 6';. 1]9, 180, 183
Interaction ; 38, 390 II I , 119, 123
Interior decoration: 204
Intermediary object : 33, 36, 50, 68. 72, 102, 184
Interpenetratic n r CJ7. 141, F ig. 55
Invar ianc(:: 54

Joint : 165
J&genst:n, J.: 28, 30, 36, 46, 55, 6], 78, 211

Kahler, H . : 100, 133, 212

Kandinsky, V. : 71
Kant, I. : 196
Kaschnitz-Weinberg, G. v. : 88. 100, 125, 171
Kees, W . : 63, 119, 130
Know[(:dg(:: 40, 64, 82
Koffka, K. : 34, 48
Kohler, W . : 34
Krau tbeimer, R. : 88, 142
Kulpc, 0.: 31

'37
Lan dscape : 103, 142, 143, 168
Langer, S.: 63, 80
Language: 57
Laugier, Abbe : 92
Layman (client) : 14, 22, 90, 198, 203, 204
Law: 54, 55, 56
Le Corbusier : 13, 17, 19, 92, 104, II4' n 6, 126, 152, 206, Fig . IS, 23. 37, 43, 81
Lenz en, V.F. : 54, 55. 82
Level : 29, 35, 181
Logic: 58, 82
L'Orange, H. P.: 88, 123, 124, 149
Lundberg, E. ; B9, 110

Magic : 48, 80, 110, I II

Maldonado, T .: 220, 221
Manifestation : 43, 50, 188
Manneri sm: 140, 143, 150, Fig. 52
Maslow, A. H . ; 120, I , 210
Mass: 86, rfi, 97, 98, lOS, 133. 134 ft , 147, 163, 20'), Fig. 38, 39. 4-2
Material : 102, 106, 161, 174
Math ematics : 55, 58
Matter : 82
Mea ning ; 38, .p , 43. 50, 6'], 69, 71, 88, 155. 168
Megalith ic architecture : 125, 137, 147, 17 1 F ig. 34, 35, J6, 73
Menhir : 125
Meyer , L. B. ; 70, 71. 156, 157, 176, 197
Michelangelo : 50, 90. 95, '}6, 104, J24, 138, 139> 145. 153, ISS. 172 r]6. 183, Fig. 19,
49, 51. 69
Mie$ van der Rohe, L. : 18, 94, 10], II4 , 116, 135. 141, 143, 144. 145, 152, 154, 164,
166, 16], 173, 174, 175, 205, 206, Fig. 44, 56, 60, 70, 82, 94
Milieu: 119, 120
Minimum measure : 17, 114
Mintz, N . L. : 120, 196, 210
Modern archit ecture: 20, 21, t48. 149, 159, 205 fl. F ig. 23. 37, 44. 56, 60, 65. 66, 70,
]6, 81, 82. 93> 94, 101. 102
Module ; 91, 144, 203
Moholy-N agy, L . : 201. 220
Monumenta l architecture: 17. 119, 176. 185, 186
Morris, c.. 59, 61, 63, 68. 71, 73. 82, 101, 129. 133
Mcrive: 139> 152, 157. 183, 11:16, 188
Movement : 87, 95, 1r:!lo 198 .
Mu sic : 33, 43,]0,71,8;,99, 138 139, 145. 150, 153, 157. 159, 199
Mu sic21 harmony: go. 91
Myth : 50, 159

238
 Naive realism : 31, 50, 199
Name : 32, 56
Naturalism : 69
. Nervi, P, L. : 102, 162, 163, 164, 166, Fig. 93
Neufert, E. : 17, 114, 115
Norm : f>5, ]O
Numbe r : 55. 90, 91, 198

Object (physical, social, cultural): 28, 29 e., 35, 36. 38, 40, 49> 51, 53 tf., 56, 61, 74,
82, 109, 171, 188, Fig. 9
Objectivity: 55
Operation : .p. 44. 46, 55
Operationalism : 57
Oprical refinement : 198
Order: 53,60., 73, 79> 81, 93, 145, 161, 166, 183, 18], 1m
Organism : 37, 1fT]
Organk architecture : 155. 161, 206, Fig. 101
Orientation : 40, 6s Ii., Fig. 9
Originality: ]0, 156, 157

Palladio, A. : S9. 91, 98, J9S, Fig. 11, 44

Panofsky. E. : 69
Parsons, T . : 21, 37, 38, 39, 58, 59> 60, 63, 65, 66, 68, ]9, So, 120, In
Part : 34, 44, 99
Paulsson, G.: 13, 88. 105, 118, 121, raa, 110, 112
Paxton, J.: Fig. 100
Perception : 12, 17 Ii., 30 fl., 41, 50, 61., 117. 195 fl.
Perrault, c. . 91
Perspective : 44,rr- 144, 103
Phenomenon : 17 s, 36, 40, 53
Ph ilosophy: 80, 81
Physical control: II I , luff., 185
Physical milieu : 88, III, 118, 173, 101
Physiognomic perception : 48
Physiology : 31, 111
Piaget, J.: 41,42.43,44,45.46,47,53,54,55,56,74,75,76,94,106, 140, 14 1, 196
Plato : 63
Pragmatics: 59, 69
Prandtauer, J. : Fig. 43
Prediction : 55
Pregnancy : 45, 135
Prejudice: 39. 19]
Primiti ve man (architecture): 11, 48, 49. 8o, II 4, 118, 145, 185, Fig. 98
Probability : 50, 55, 60, 70, roo, 156
Production : 101 ff.

'39
Propert y: 28, 30, 33, 45, 58
Proportion: 44, 45, 91, 92, 93, 94. 100, 203, F ig. J4' 15
Proxim ity: 43, 44, 75, 140
Psychoanalysis: 33, 64
Pythagore ans: 90, 91

Qualitative concept : 89, 90, 107, J82

Quality: 108, 156, 181, 182, 184

Rader, M .: 68
Raphael: 148, Fig. 75
Ratio : 94
Reaction : 38
Reality: 64
Redundanc y: 151
Reichenbach. H . : 55, 82
Relation : 44,59, 105, II 7, 132, 140 ff., 148, 160
Relativity: 22. 34, 35, 176
Relevance: 181, 184, J96
Religion : 66, ft]
Renaissance art (architecture) : 69, ']0, 87, 9J, 92, 95, 97, 101. 102, 114, 12}. J2.4, 135,
136, 138 146, 148, 154, 158. 172. 173. 197, Fig. II, 12, 16, 17, J8, 19> 44, 49, 5 1,
59, 68, 69, 7 1 , 75, J9, 50, 84. Ss
Representation: 42, 51, ]6, n, Ss, 203
Reprodu ction : 74 iI., Fig. 10
Research : 2CJ9, 210 Il,
Retinal pan crn : 32, 45, 46
Rhythm: J53, 183
Riegl, A. : 9'1, 95
Rietveld, G. : Fig. 3
Role : 22, 40, u 8, 171
Roman architecrure : II], J2O, 123. 12.4, 126, 136, lop. 143. 145, 146, 148, 149> 151,
163, 164, 212, Fig. 30, 31, 38, 6';, 88, 59. 9", 97
Romanesque architecture : 104, 139
Romantic art : 17, 184. 186
Row: g], 106, u6, 141, 146, 147, 1; 4
Ruesch, J.: 63, 119, J30
Rufer, J.: 139, 156, 159
Rule : 59, 13J, 149
Ruling taste : 16, 159> 183, 184, 199

Sangallo, A. da: 152, Fig. 80 .,

Sangallo, G. da : Fig. 44
Scale: 103, 104, 152, 176
Schema: 41 iI., 48 s., 51. 74, n. 78, 183. 1

24
Schinkel, K. F. : 17
Schlick, M.: 80
Schmarsow, A.: 95
Scholfield. P. H. : 91, 92, 93
Schonberg , A. : 159
Science : 43. 46, 51, 54, 61, 62, 64, 66, 81, 82, 170
Sedlmayr, H . : 17, 20, 69, 70, 85, 88, 99> 100, 102, 107, 1Ig, 124. 126, 127. 128. 139,
150, 158, 169, 171, 172, 213
Self-expression : 20, 68. 187. 221
Semantics : 59, 71. 88. 104, 107, 16] If., 176
Semant ical relation : 107. 168 fl.
Semiotic : 24. 56 If. 101
Semper. G.: 102. F ig. 27
Siegel. C.: 161. 165
Sign : ,38. 53. 56, 59. 60. 63
Similarity : 43. 142
Simultaneity: ga. 154
Situation: 21. 32. 35 .p. 43, 48, 50
Size : 93, 103. 104
Skeleton : 135, 162, 163, 164 ff. 205, Fig. 92-0 93. 94, 100
Smith, E. B. : 88. no, 124
Socializ.ation : 37 fl.
Social milieu : 11 2, 114. 118 fl. 123
Society: 15, 16. 17. 37, 490 III , 1290 186
Space : 19, 46 fl.. 55. 69. 86, go. 95, 96. 97, ga. 100, 101, 103, 104. lOS. It4 ' 133. 136 fl.
1-44. 147. 182, 2OS, Fig. 45. 47, 48
Spirit : 82
Stan dard : 39. 2fYJ
Status : 118, 1]2
Str nad, 0.: 117, Fig. 27
Str ucture : 53, 50, 70. 73. 99, 100. 146 fl ., 154. 199
Stru ctural anal ysia: 69, 99. 100, 102. 10'" 180
Structural similarity: 57. 71, 168. 169, 170, 173
Structural skeleton: 46, 139, 145, Fig. 7
Style: 17,65,7.71. 102, 104, 106, 145. 149> 156 f1., 175
Stylistic development : 158, 159> 183
Successicn : 44, 96, 98, 141, 145
Sullivan, L. H. : 88, 155
Sumer: 58. 110
Surface : 95. I02. 133, 134, 137 fl., 147, Fig. 44
Symbol ; 56 fl. 202
Symbolization : 57, 77, s
Symbol-milieu : 88, IU, 114' 112, 16<), ,173, 186, 201, 2IO
Symbol-system (descriptive, non-descriptive}. 38, 53, 57. 58. 59. 50, 63, 64 fl. 70, 79,
81. 149, 159. 171, 188
Symmetry: 134, 143, 159, 171, Fig. 40
Synaesthes ia : 49
Syntactics: 58
System: 54, 197

T aste : 31. 66, 159

Teamwork: ISS, 203, 204, 221
Techni cs: 19, 10.2, 104, 106, 161 fl., 174, 177, 179, 185
Technical dement : 102, 161, 162, 165
T echnical system : 102, 107, 161 , 16.2, 166, 175, 177, JOS
Tech nology : .206
T emen os : 110
Terminology : 19, 23, 106, 147. :214
Texture: 102, 135. 14:2
Theme : 71, 93, 153
Theory : :23, 24, 86, 87, 101 fl., 188, 193, 201, 209> 214, 218. 224
Tbcugbe: 62
T opology: 44. 45
Topological relation : 115, 134. 135. 139> 145. 147, 148, 1]0, ISs, Fig. 61
Tradition : :23, 159, 160, 188, :206
Truth :6f
Ut ilitarian architectu re : ISs
Utzon, J.: F ig. 102

Value : 14, 39, 49> 64, 68, 73, I l l, 188,20:2

Var iation: 46, 153, 187, :207
Visual order; 13. 24, :20:2. 207
Visual traini ng : :23, 4:2, 197. 199
Virruvius : 88, 91, 92, IQJ. 14, :217
Vcgr-Gokn il, U. : 69, g6, 104

Wachsmann, K.: 165

Wall : 137, Fig. 43
Werner, H. : 48, 49, 80, 153, 159, 170
Wertheimer, M.: 34, 45
Whitehead, A. N. ; 82
W hole : 34, ii. 99
Wie~r, N. : 160
w lugenseei n, L: 29> 34, .p , 50, 51, 57, 6}. 105, ' 75
Wiukower, R. : &), 87, 88, 89, 91, 92. 93, 100
Wolffl.in, H . ; 23, &), 95, 133
Wright, F.L. : 144. ISS, :206, Fig. 66

Zc"i. B.: 19> 86. 95, 96, 97, 203. :21J

Zimmerm ann, D. : Fig. 43
?~\-(: ~ k'\
"
~,- . ~.
-A .....
- . 0'
'"Zr"
, ,~. 2.i2>'r"
',-<
,-{, '"~ ..~ rr-
,-.... .
J
.:.:----
" 0
'1-~R.E"-~ .:
Illustrations
1. VISual chaos.
Times square in New Yo rk.

2. Devaluation of hist ori cal fo rms .

I nsane Asylum in Utica (NY).
(After H .-R. H itchcock: .Artbi-
tecture of tbe Nineteenth and
Twentieth Cen I u r i es, Harrnonds-
wor th 1958).
3. Towards a new formal "vocabulary",
House in tr echt by G. Rietveld
(1924). (After Joedicke).

4. Devaluation of modem forms.

Apartment house in Ro me (1962).
 5. Th e illusi ons of K un dr and Mu llcr-L ycr .

o 0 0 0 o
o o
o

Proximi ty. Similarity.

r -,

LL:
0=.
L -l
Inr erpenerraring figures Inrerprered
'correctly' and ....r on gly.

Con tin uity.

Figure-ground.

6. Ges talt laws. 7. The ' structural skel eton' of a sq uar e. (Afrer Arnhc:im).
 Orientations

Cogn itiv e Cathe ctic Evaluative

Physical

Soc ial

Cult ural

8. T w o cu bes. (Aft er Koffka). 9. O b jects and orientations.

10. The rel ati vity of repro ductio n. (After Arnhcim),

11. Drawing by Francesc o di Gio rgio.

j 12. PalJadio's Villa Rotonda.

 13. The geom etri cal scheme
of Bo rromini's Sanr'Ivo.
(Aft er Benevolo).

..,
:

II
1.1.3 9 7

1 _ ~- 7
~ L-:' ~1
,
. ,----~

'0

I -
L '

14. Pr oportional analysis after Thiersch. 15. 'Le Modulor'. (Mtcr Lc Co rbusic r).
16. ddi tion of geometrical units. . Lo renzo
in Flo ren ce by Brunellcschi.

// ~ r: ~ ~ ~ ~
t-- t-- l- I- - t - - - ,......-

17. The ' wall-theme' of A lberti's Sane' Andrea

with variations, (After Norberg-Sch ulz).
 18. Brunelleschi: Sagresria vecchia
in S. Lorenzo.

19. l\lichc1angelo : Cappe lla Medici.

 Addition, Division, Interpenetration

.\ddiLive row , open . Addi tiTe group. open. Addirive mlUp. closed.

20. rrucrural relations according to Frankl.

N'

N'

21. Borromini: S. Carlo aile quartro

fomane. Interpretation of the
plan according to Sedlrnayr. 22. Interior of S. Carlo alla quattro fonrane.
 ~ -,-----

23. Le orbus ier: The civic centre of Chand igarh,

24. Iesop otamian huts.
(After Andra e).

25. T rova n.
(Mt~r aumann).
 Connec to r.

---- Filter.

Ba rn er .

--t- Switch ,

-t - Switch,

Switch, FunaionaI zones with

coonecting filters.
'Filter' symbols.

The functiorul zones of a sim ple

dwellin . : Living, Kirchen, Sleep -
ing. H ygiene,

Planning level s.

26. Analysis of physical

control and functions .
 ... . -"-----~_
- ...
. ;:II,

Orange.

Pro ject hy Oscar trand.

Ephesos,

.-

---,
Dresden (Semper).

27. Theatres. (After Fre y).

28. E nclosure. The houses built
recently outside the city-wall
have a disturbing effect. Giglo
Castello, Toscana.

29. Priene .
30. PeriJ/.)'IIIn; of D ioclctian's palace
in Split. (After Ka hler) .

31. The Roman Panth eon.

 32. T he Palcochristian basilica.
s. Crisogono in Rome .

33. The cathedral in Amiens .

 tI

34. The dO/film of Man e- Kerio ned ,

Carnac, (Aftrr Eneidopedia Uni-
uersale del!' .Arte} ,

35. Etruscan do med tomb with central

pillar. T omba di Casale Maritti mn,
Musco Archelogico Flo rence.
36. Towards arti culation. T he
Tomb ofHal SaAieni, Malta ,
(After Cescbi).

37. Le Corbusier : Notre D ame

du Haut in Ronchamp.
 38. The pyramid of Caius Ccstius
in Rome.

O ~
L-) t~)}

~
I

39. Mass elements. 40. Symmetry.

 .. ...I . ,
..

. ,",

.' . -.
0 ..

41. The cube as a funcrion o f its

bounding surfaces .

B o rr o m i n i : Pabz:zo di
ProfUJ,= <b Fide in Rome.

J. D icn rzcn hofcr :

The Casrlc of Pornmcr sfcldcn.
Self-contradictory corner
treatm ent in a modcrn
aparnncm house in Rome.
42. D efini tion of (he mass through
varying treatm em of the comer .
 43. arying relationships between
wall and openings.

Massive wall wirh holes.

Le Corbusier : Notre D ame du Hau r, Ronchamp,

kelcron. J. Prandraucr t St. Florian, staircase,

kin. D. Zim mermann: In dcr Wics.

 44. D efinit ion of the su rface through
subdivision and texture.

': , -.' J - .
-.:". ~ ~ .~

Mies van det Rolle: B ,cellona Pavilion. ( flC' Johnson ).

1....-

: PUu:zo TbiaIc in \

G. Ssnga11o:
P1hz:zo Gondi. FIo'ence.
45. Space cells. Closure, guiding walls
and openings .

C!J

46. Continuous wall treatment. Bor ro rnin i :

Co rtilc of S. Carlo aile quattro fonranc.
 47. The space cell as a function of [he openings.

I'
-, ,
, , ~o-
.....
/
I \ I I I1'"", \
\ , ..... J \ I I /
- ./ '...J
r--7
\
1,... /

....... _.
./

48. Space as a function of the bounding surfaces.

49. Michclangelo : The Capit oline Square ill Rome.
 meruu}" fo r ,he boa' of Amon, Ka rnak ,

Bo rro nUn.i : Cecvenr of . Carlo alle qu arrro foncanc,

Ulm cathed ral.

50. Plastic and perforating clement. Fra ming.

51. Michelangelo: Cappella forza
in S. Maria Maggiore, Ro me.

52. Ammannati: Courtyard of

Palazzo Pitti in Florence.
53. Clust er. Stone Age settlement.
(M eer Hilberseimcr).

54. Plan of Nordl ingen,

(After Brin ckrnann ).
55. Interpenetration. The stairs of
San t'Agnese in Piazza 1 Tavona
according to a dra wing by
Bor romini. (Aft er Hempel).

PIAZZA NAVONA
56. Mies van der Rohe : Pro ject for
a brick house. (After johnson).
...

5 . Dominance. Ulm w it h cathedral and med iaeval houses .

58. Geometrical relations.
I II
IIII

59. Centralization. Bru nelleschi :

S. Spirito in Florence.

.
+-- t
I
. ""'--

f--

60. Mies van der Rohe : Pro ject fo r a house with three courts as planned (left),
and redesigned without guiding walls etc . (right).
 0
I
}O
I I
loo.nT.U
I
61. Topological order.
0 .10 The agora of Athens.
I "'I" t- - 1
JDO,Ut
I (Aft er Lawrence).

N
\ .
~

62. Addition of axial uni~ .

,..,.... 10 Fori Imperiali III
I :'
_7 Ro:e. (After Lugli).
 63. Boghazkeuy, temple I.
(After Wachtsmu th).

..
_-~-_-~IIIC:J C_------~111111111
I
64. Mcdin et H abu.
1 (After H od cher).
II
 65. Guiding wall. Mies van der Rohe: :
The Barcellona Pavilion.

..
...... \
",
.
--
J~..
I
..
....
.'= .... -. .
' ~ ...
' .

66. Organization on the basis of a hexa-

gonal grid. Frank Lloyd Wright:
Hanna house. (After Moser).
 $

67. Plan of the Ro man Pantheon.

68. Braman te : Proj ect for St. Pete r's in Rom e. 69. fiehelangelo : Project for St. Peter's in Rome.
 70. Mies van dcr Roh e : H ou se on the
Be r lin b u ildin g exhibition 1931.
I (~
!'-T12.
~~
.,- ..'l: I l r
-
;.; ~ - vf I I I
c
I J I

rf~ 0 0 1'- 1 1

rn aU
0
- 181
- co0 0

.------.
-
I I -
0

7. ~ ,"o:! ~ o <} y - 0g

....~
!lr------. .
of Pl ~
l..Ll

71. Francesco di Gi orgio : Ideal City. Palazzo Ducale, Urbina.

72. Ge ometrical structures.

73. Plan of temple I in Tarscien, ~WU.

,,-
H ouse in Babylon.
-_.- - ~

(After Ccschi). (After Lundberg).

75. Raphael: Villa Madama. (After Lundberg).

6. C. ' orberg - chulz : Ita liesin,
Po n o Ercole. (1962).
77. Confusion of styles. House in Rome
showing gothic and rornanesque details
within a classical frame.

78. Spoliun, architectu re. S. Gio vanni in

Porta Latina, Ro me.
 79. Bramante: Tempietto il
S. Pietro in Montorio,
Rome. (After Letarouilly) ,

80. A. da Sangallo: Project

for St. Peter's in Rome.
(After Letarouilly).

h
81. Le Corbusier: Domino. Project
fro m 1914. (After Giedion).

82. Mi es van der Rohe :

Pro ject for a square house.
83. Protorenaissance. S. Miniato al Mont e
in Florence.

84. Brunellcschi: S. pirito in Florence. 85. Imitation of th style of Brunelleschi, Badia, Fiesole,
86. D o med mud huts in Syria.
(A fter La Casa ne! Mondo) .

87. Pol ygo na l mas onr y from Cosa . 88 . Opus retiatlainm fro m Ostia.
89. Roman bri ck-mason ry fro m a tomb
on the Via Latina.

90 . Roman use offictive' orders. Model

o f [be Marcellus thea tre in Rome.
91. Fictive skeleton, Etruscan tomb in Ccrveteri. 92. Real skeleton . Half-tim bered house in Warwick.

93. Nervi : Palazzo del Lavoro, T urin .

94. Articulated skeletons by Mies
van der Rohe . Projects for
Crown Hall and Administration
building, 1. 1. T., Chicago .
95. Zikkllrat. (Aft er D irrme r),

96. G. Di en tzenhofer : Kappel , Waldsassen.

(After H empel).
97. Porta San Sebastiano , Rome.
 98. Trulli from Alberobello, Puglia.

99. Parvenue archit ecture from Oslo.

100. Paxton: The Crystal Palace
in London (1851).

101. 'O rganic' planning. Aalto :

Civic Centre in Saynatsalo.
(After Neuenschwander).
102. Organic planning through
the variati on of a technical-
functi on al theme.

J. LtzOO: Project for a residcnria1 quuter in Birk j (1960)

S, Fehn: Pro ject for a rc- urant in l)rammcn (1% 1).

ARCH ITECT URE
... the book' s erudition and th orough- place and purpose-e-n n.... 'T
extraneously lor " shr flt\J I - c.
~~(
ness are co nsistent wit h the sch ol arship I
Intenllons In Architecture
by Christi an Norberg-Schulz
01his Swiss forebears-G iedion , Woelt -
ffin , and Burk hardt. Since i t is foun ded on
orative effect. And a ~
materia l had to be je
U l -oa \
modern science and the doctrine of plan with in lormal b N0t(..
symbo lic form . it buifds a pl ac e for produce a theory wit
architecture in the modern phitosopaicet app lications: one tha\ l
landscape. Its sc ope is thus even wider of the aesthetic s of arc,
than that of Gledion's work. equally well of its socia l, l-
- Nathan Silver, Progressive Archit ecture and cultural effect s. .~
No rb erg-Schul z is a pr act ic ing architect The chief foc us of the book is on the
- his bu ildings st and In several coun tr ies symbolic and li ngui stic. The purpose is
- and he elucidates the nature of archi- to develop an integ rated theo ry of arc hi-
tectural reality with a pr acticed eye and tect ural des c rip tio n and arc hitectural in-
from a pract ic al viewpoint. Alt ho ugh th e tention: desc rip tio n. insofar as architec -
methods and theory that his book de- ture is a sci ence ; intention (and th is
. velops are uncompromisingly rigorous inc lud es the intention of the user as well
~ and tightly form ed, they are everyWhere as tha t of the des ig ner). insofar as archi-
related to actual bu ilding, thr ough tecture is an a rt.
spec ific exa mples and through he use The MIT Press
01 over 100 pho tog raphs. Camb ridg e, Massachusetts 0214 2
Coli n St. J ohn Wilson wr ites in RIBA www-m itpress.mit.edu
Journal th at
This book is th e first seri ous attempt to
outline a systematic and comp l ete frame-
work for the descr ip ti on of architectu re.
In 1911 Let haby wr ote that " Modern
builders need a classification of arch i-
tactur al factors irres pective of time and
by essenti al variation. Some day we shalf
gat a morph ol ogy 01tne art by some
Li nnaeus or Darwin who shaff start fr om
the simp lest ce ll and rela te it to the mos t
comp lex struc tures ." I cla im that this
book is that "tru e cl assifi cati on." Its
mode, br ed in th e school 01analytical
philosop hy. is uniqu e for its precisi on 01
language and " struc tural" meth od in a
field lon g since aband oned to rh etori c
and reci pe. . ..
I hav e caffed the metho d of this book
"structural" to c onvey the manner in
whic h the argument is built up by similar
kinds of " joint" throughout tb whole
framework. This is the mark of its author-
it y. But what is remarkable is the extra -
ord inary br eadth of interest over which
this authori ty is mai ntained.
The str uc ture that Norberg-Schu lZ has
fash ioned is surely on e 01the most im-
pressive intell ec tual edifices that any
arch itect has ever pro duced. The mate-
rials that are orga nicall y wor ed into it 9000 0
incl ude Gestalt psyc hology, the me-
chanics 01percep tion . info rmation theory,
mode rn analyt ic ph ilosophy, and in
particular li ngui stic ana lys is, and the
ge neral theory 01signs and symbols. Th e
result. however , is not an ec lectic hodge- 9 780262 640022
podge-all these materia ls have th eir
NOR IP