TIMES OF ro iM 5 ~ Se ee a SHAPING BUILDINGS AND CITIES IN THE LATE C20TH ALEXANDER TZONIS AND LIANE LEFAIVRE aFirst published 2017 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2017 Alexander Tzonis and Liane Lefaivre ‘The right of Alexander ‘Tzonis and Liane Lefaivre to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN: 9781472476449 (hbk) ISBN: 9781315550916 (ebk) Typeset in Frutiger and Galliard by Florence Production Ltd, Stoodleigh, Devon, UK Cover photograph: Harvard Stadium Stairs, April 1969, photograph by Li Chung PeiContents Illustrations Preface and acknowledgements Intro ‘tion Ti f ved és 1963 1967 1978 1981 1984 Alexander Tzonis, ‘Search for a new urbanity: commentary’ Alexander Tzonis, ‘Structure and randomness in museum Alexander Tzonis, ‘Lobbies. Ambiguous voids in the urban fabric.” Alexander Tzonis, ‘Ideological architecture. The Obsolescence of Egyptian tomb style at the time of technological catacombs’ Alexander Tzonis, ‘Letter from Harvard’ Alexander Tzonis, ‘Transformations of the initial structure’ Alexander Tzonis, ‘The last identity crisis in architecture’ Liane Lefaivre and Alexander Tzonis, ‘The populist movement in architecture’ Liane Lefaivre and Alexander Tzonis, ‘The mechanical vs. divine body. the rise of modern design theory in Europe’ Alexander Tzonis and Liane Lefaivre, ‘Sentimental geometry and the therapeutic landscape’ Alexander Tzonis and Liane Lefaivre, ‘The narcissist phase in architecture’ Alexander Tzonis and Liane Lefaivre, ‘The grid and the pathway’ Alexander Tzonis and Liane Lefaivre, “The question of autonomy in architecture’ Copyrighted material1989 1990 1990 1990 1991 1992 1996 1998 1999 2001 2002 2005 2013 2015 Alexander Tzonis, ‘The bastion as mentality’ Liane Lefaivre, ‘Eros, architecture and the hypnerotomachia poliphili’ Alexander Tzonis, ‘Huts, ships and bottleracks: design by analogy for architects and/or machines’ Liane Lefaivre, ‘Dirty realism. Making the stone stony’ Liane Lefaivre and Alexander Tzonis, ‘Lewis Mumford’s Regionalism’ Alexander Tzonis and Liane Lefaivre, ‘Planning and tomatoes’ Alexander Tzonis and Liane Lefaivre, ‘Skin rigorism’ Liane Lefaivre and Alexander Tzonis, ‘Beyond monuments, beyond Zip-a-tone, into space/time: Shadrach Woods’s Berlin Free University, a humanist architecture’ Alexander Tzonis, ‘Pikionis and transvisibility’ Alexander Tzonis, ‘Is architecture entering Le Collége de France?’ Alexander Tzonis, ‘Community in the mind. A model for personal and collaborative design’ Liane Lefaivre, ‘Puer ludens’ Alexander Tzonis and Liane Lefaivre, ‘Region making’ Liane Lefaivre and Alexander Tzonis, ‘Putting on a pretty face’ Conclusion List of publications whose covers were used for the design of the Frontispiece composition ni Copyrighted materialIllustrations Frontispiece Stream of publications that contain articles by Tzonis and Lefaivre. Design by Marta Rota 1 2 3 NOUL 16-30 31 32-33 34-35 36-37 38-43 44 45 46-47 Paul Rudolph building drawing, 1962 Louis Kahn, Philadelphia Plan, 1953 Tzonis’s project for social housing for refugees from Asia Minor in Dourgouti, Athens. Existing shack, Greek government project, end of 1950s Model of Tzonis’s Dourgouti project, 1963 Tzonis-Chermayeff, page from joint notebook c. 1966 Novum Organum cover, 6 January edition, 1969 Whole-page reproductions of all pages of Tzonis’s article ‘Transformations of the Initial Structure’, Perspecta 12, 1969 Whole-page reproductions of all pages of Tzonis’s article on ‘The Last Identity Crisis of Architecture’ for Connection, 1969 Giancarlo De Carlo, Urbino, plan analysis From ‘The Bastion as mentality’, Francesco di Giorgio Martini drawings of bastions from ‘trattato ottavo’, Codice Magliabechiano, Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale (62v-61v) Leonardo da Vinci’s ‘Visual Pyramid’ and ‘shadow pyramid’ Le Corbusier conceptual diagrams and Tzonis’s analysis From ‘Beyond Monuments’, Split, Toulouse — Le Mirail, Frankfurt, Berlin, Zip-a-tone Drawing of the Path by Dimitrios Pikionis early 1950s Photo of the Path by Dimitrios Pikionis early 1950s Playgrounds designed by Aldo van Eyck d materialPreface and acknowledgements ‘There is an aura of unavoidable ambiguity over the text of this book. It is a book of current architectural history, about events that happened over the past half century but, at the same time, it is the authors’ account of their lives, writing and researching in a rare collaborative partnership, not only as observers and passive reviewers of these years but also as active participants. For this reason, in the book the authors do not appear as ‘T’ or ‘we’ but as Tzonis and Lefaivre, perhaps a weak way of asserting their dual role. This book assembles a selection of their writings published in Europe, North America, South Africa, Israel, Japan and China in major international academic and professional journals, leading art magazines, introductions or contributions to collective publications and conferences. Why this title? Why is ‘creative destruction’ associated with architecture? Of all human products, architecture has been traditionally referred to as the most serene and stable, perhaps even frozen. On the other hand, from the last century onwards, this traditional view has been changing. Architecture has been increasingly allied with creative energy, firing forms of supreme verve and inciting new ways of living. But the same creative architecture has also been associated with destruction. Destruction in this context is not meant in the sense of ‘urban renewal’, which knocks down small or ageing buildings to replace them with new, vigorous (and more profitable) ones, a practice widely known since the times of Haussmann that confirms the dictum that destruction (in its most extreme form war) is the ‘father of all things’. What is meant here by destruction is the universal, irreversible flattening of human and natural worlds, a catastrophe affecting structures and infrastructures, ways of living, social emotions and ties. It ruins the very resources that sustain life. In return, it promises nothing but a desert. This is a highly hypothetical ‘prophecy’. History and criticism have a humbler job. Bringing together these texts and linking them along a reflective path may make visible connections that others do not see.History and criticism may thus enable the grasping of patterns and forces that control and propel the fatalistic ‘creative destruction’ development, whether it is born of design or happenstance. Perhaps history and criticism may bring to light some of the creative ideas of the past which, although they had tremendous potential to improve architecture and stem the destructive forces at work within it, have been left unfinished or suppressed. Conceivably, history and criticism can help find ways to arrest the blind process of ‘creative self-destruction’ carried out by architects, developers and clients by bringing some critical planning into our future times. The book contains a collection of documents written since the 1960s and the historical path that links them. Our special thanks go to colleagues and friends who have helped with this book as well as those who inspired and supported us in our long-term project: Serge Chermayeff, Jacqueline Tyrwhitt, Rickie Washton, Donald Watson, Jerzy Soltan, Shadrach Woods, Giancarlo De Carlo, Bob Maltz, Ed Barnes, Stuart Wrede, Manfred Ibel, Peter Papadimitriou, Mary Otis Stevens, Lucius and Annemarie Burckhardt, Geert Bekaert, Etienne de Cointet, Jean-Pierre Halevy, Jean-Pierre Lesterlin, Jean Zeitoun, Bruno Fortier, André Schimmerling, Jacques Guillerme, Stan Anderson, James Ackerman, Richard Pommer, Gerhard Fehl, Anthony Alofsin, Gerald McCue, Richard Hatch, Eugenio Battisti, Eduard Sekler, Luis Fernandez Galiano, Juan-Antonio Fernandez-Alba, Orestis Doumanis, Marvin Malecha, Toshio Nakamura, Richard Ingersoll, Sebastiano Brandolini, Aldo van Eyck, Leo Oorschot, Anthony Tischhauser, Jean-Francois Drevon, Catherine Cooke, Cesare de Seta, Jacques Le Goff, Rick Diamond, Mohsen Mostafavi, Liangyong Wu, Kongjian Yu, Wang Lu, Wang Shu, Li Xiaodong, Philip Bay, Hoang-Fl Jeng, Heng Chyekiang, Zhang Li, Michael Levin, Wytze Patijn, Valerie Rose, and Joeri Van Ommeren. Many thanks to Li Chung Pei for the permission to use his April 1969 photograph. We are grateful to Sade Lee, our editor, for insightful advice and most effective support. We also thank Marta Rota, who curated the archive of our writings, the source of this selection, and advised on the cover and visual structure of the book.Introduction ‘The years that followed the end of World War LI were among the most creative and dramatic in human history. Extraordinary buildings were born, cities exploded and an unprecedented world of a ‘Third Ecology’ emerged, an ecology forcing together indivisibly the natural and the artificial. Never before had the world experienced such an upsurge of seminal design and innovative mega-constructions, of technological feats and flourishing spatial acrobatics. Yet, for all its exhilarating creativity, this was also an era of unique destruction, unanticipated, intractable and irreversible, that obliterated the quality of the cultural, economic, social and ecological environment. Architectural movements and theories related to such crucial periods are usually thought to take form in books. But periodicals, journals and general public magazines have been just as important. One could argue that the ideas of modern architecture were actually born, incubated and challenged for the first time in periodical publications such as Mercure de France, Mémoires de Trévoux, Gazette de France and Journal des s¢avans in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries in France, which was at the forefront in modern times. Ever since, on both sides of the Atlantic, in Japan and, more recently, in China, publications in journals, like stepping stones, marked the trail of new thinking in architecture. To recount and revaluate these contradictory events, a selection of critical texts by Tzonis and Lefaivre, issued in such periodical publications between the early 1960s and today, have been brought together. They are the product of a rare research partnership, published and debated during this period. The selection was made from an original list of over 400 articles that appeared originally in a number of publications, among them: Arts Magazine, Art Voices, Perspecta, Connection, Novum Organum, Deutsche Bauzeitung, Le Carré Bleu, Bauwelt, Progressive Architecture, DMG-DRS Journal, Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, Journal of Architectural Education, Papers by the Faculty of theDepartment of Architecture of Harvard University, Dix-Huitiéme Siécle, Harvard Architectural Review, Bouw, Cultures - UNESCO, Architectural Design, VIA, Arquitectura y Vivienda, Arquitectura Viva, Design Book Review, Archithése, A+ U, Casabella, ARCH+, Spazio e Societa, Le Moniteur Architecture AMC, Harvard Design Magazine, Frontiers of Architectural Research, Journal of the National Academy of Art, China. Concerning the structure of this book, there are no chapters. The articles written over the years are presented in chronological order. Rather than following chapter divisions, the book situates them along the geopolitical, social, economic and cultural path of the creative and destructive times since the early 1960s. This means that the articles become stepping stones, as it were, linked together by an unbroken, sweeping narrative flow, relating a process of creative destruction more than half a century long, from the early 1960s until today. The heading for this part of the book is ‘Times of Creative Destruction. The early 1960s until now’. The period covered here, indeed, stretches from the early 1960s to the present. The opening article, Tzonis’s ‘Commentary’, an aphoristic, critical statement by a graduate student at Yale, was written in 1963. Like several manifestos at that time by the younger generation, it found fault with ‘establishment’ architecture, freewheeling and plan-less in the US, bureaucratic and state-controlled in Europe, both seen as destructive of the environment, ‘place’ and community. This realization came as a surprise following the massive construction and unprecedented reconstruction activity that together with the miraculous economic growth was changing the face of the earth, coming soon after the end of World War IT, when humanity had emerged out of a struggle that had annihilated millions of people and destroyed masses of structures and infrastructure. However, during this creative period, place and community were ruined and there was serious environmental and social damage that led the younger generation to complain bitterly that the much-publicized post-war ‘miracle’ and its vast building work did not contribute to ‘increasing happiness’. What went wrong? What went right? How and why? These questions are bound up with the evolving tension at the core of creative destruction. They will re-emerge during the overall period covered here, when creativity, construction and growth were regularly followed bydestruction and the rolling back of progress —and vice versa. Among the major developments the book dwells on are the reactions to the negative effects of ‘planned’, ‘reconstruction’ and ‘urban renewal’, the vanishing ‘community’ and ‘place’ and the emergence of the issue of ‘alienation’ in the post-war projects. The book discusses the impact of the new concepts of ‘randomness’, ‘open’ design and ‘systems’ in architecture, urbanism and aesthetics, arguing that buildings, built- complexes and any art form should not be seen and treated as isolated fragments but as components of an overall urban tissue. The advent of ‘ground-up’ opposition to elitist design, the ‘populist’ movement, ‘self- help’ and ‘participatory’ and ‘counterculture’ design of the late 1960s are analysed and assessed in a broader socio-economic framework and the impact of the state’s fiscal crisis on architecture and planning. The critical discussion addresses the unexpected turn to elitism, postmodern and anti-modern design, the decline of socially engaged rationalist architecture and planning and engagement with broader technological or moral issues, followed by the regression to professional ‘narcissism’, the rise of the movements of design ‘autonomy’ and ‘dirty realism’. The analysis of the more recent events deals with the effect of globalization and privatization of the human-made environmental phenomena enforcing inequality, far removed from the ideas of ‘planning’, ‘system’ and ‘place’. Finally, the book discusses the massive decline of environmental, social and cultural quality and the reaction to these developments through the movement of ‘critical regionalism’ and the tendency for a return to the idea of planning, place and community.Times of creative destruction The early 1960s until now By the early 1960s, when negative reactions to post-war architecture and urbanism began to rise, one remarkably critical voice, surprisingly, was President Kennedy’s. In our time, the accession to power of world leaders is not generally significant from the point of view of design. This was an exception, however, brought on by the urban crises of the time. Soon after his inauguration, Kennedy delivered a ‘Special Message to the Congress of the United States’ on 9 March 1961, dedicated to ‘Housing and Development’, clearly assuming a radical stance that had been abandoned by government administrations since Roosevelt’s death. Among the surprising policy points he made that day, he attacked the ‘the present patterns of haphazard suburban development’ in the US that he saw as ‘contributing to a tragic waste in the use of vital resource now being consumed at an alarming rate’ and pointed to the ‘encroachment of blight and slums’ due to undue speculation. He argued that what was needed was a ‘comprehensive metropolitan or regional development’ for ‘effective nerve centres’ in order to reshape the ‘eroding central cities’ and to shift approach to urbanism away ‘from slum clearance to slum prevention, to conservation and rehabilitation of existing residential districts’. He announced a national housing policy for achieving ‘a decent home and suitable living environment for every American family’ and juxtaposed the ideal of community with the current condition of ‘blight and decay,’ urging for laying ‘the foundations for liveable, efficient, and attractive communities of the future’. A memorable phrase clinched his speech: ‘Our communities are what we make them. We as a nation have before us the opportunity — and the responsibility.’Remarkably, the speech also pointedly criticized the poor state of knowledge related to these urban issues in universities. “We have lagged badly in mobilizing the intellectual resources needed to understand and improve this important sector of our civilization,’ he wrote. Noting that ‘the problems related to the development and renewal of our cities and their environs have received comparatively little attention in research and teaching,’ he pledged ‘long-term federal commitment’. Many of the views aired in Kennedy’s speech had already been spelled out before the elections by critics, a few professionals and young academics. Harvard scholars, in particular Charles Haar, who had a joint appointment between the Design School and the Law School, were, directly and indirectly, important policy shapers. Kennedy’s talk also echoed a number of writings that had taken a critical stand against ‘establishment’ approaches to the built and natural environment by Jane Jacobs, Michael Harrington, Kevin Lynch, Serge Chermayeff and Rachel Carlson. All were dealing with the social and physical quality of the environment, the ecological crisis and ‘community’. But Kennedy, more than anyone else, succeeded in bringing to the fore the mounting anxieties and disapproval of a growing distressed general public about the condition of the environment, a public that asked for new ideas and action. Years later, in 1993, Alan Temko, in his book No Way to Build a Ballpark, recalled 1962 as the time Americans became aware that ‘suddenly the country was being ruined before our eyes, smashed, raped, poisoned, stunk up and not least disfigured by inhumane and even hideous buildings’. Kennedy had good reasons to complain about ‘the problems related to the development and renewal of our cities and their environs’ having ‘received comparatively little attention’. Most of these burning issues could not have been more at odds with the mainstream nonchalant point of view of the architecture profession. Revealing in this light is a series of three issues of the leading American professional journal Progressive Architecture (March, April and May 1961). Thomas H. Creighton, the editor of the journal, organized an annual Design Award Program and subsequently put together a virtual symposium entitled the ‘Sixties, the State of Architecture’. The participants of the symposium considered projects produced during the second half of the 1950s by leading US architects, such as Manure Yamasaki, Eero Saarinen, Edward DurrellStone, Philip Johnson, Paul Rudolph and Walter Gropius, and came to the conclusion that, since there was no overall direction that characterized them, the situation was ‘chaos’. For several architects, including Philip Johnson, chaos expressed the flight from the ‘prison house’ of the so-called Miesian ‘functionalist box’, typical of a great part of post-war architecture. But Johnson went one step further from simply denouncing functionalism. He declared that ‘the only principle that I can conceive of believing in is the Principle of Uncertainty’ — a remark opening the door to a freewheeling architecture, hardly constructive for a country facing urban and environmental crisis. ‘The idea of the ‘chaos’ of the 1950s was a concept that legitimized self- promotion through a belief in architecture for architecture’s sake rather than as a ‘social art’, as many architects believed during and after World War II. It became the driving force behind the formation of the self- proclaimed ‘Procrustes Club’. Its credo was that architects could feel free, like the legendary Procrustes himself, to stretch or chop the client's specifications to fit the iron bed of an architectural idea, independently of the requirements of the project. Openly elitist and outspokenly anti- functionalist, the ‘club’, which in fact was a small informal group of architect friends, one of whom was Philip Johnson, was influenced to a great extent by Sigfried Giedion’s call of 1943 asking for a new ‘monumentality,’ that disregarded functionality and social needs — despite Giedion’s assurances that he supported social architecture — and that rejected the role of architecture not only in maintaining the quality of the physical environment but also in respecting the resources and cultural values of the region. Given the fast-improving conditions of the US, several American architects and schools of architecture in the 1950s became sympathetic to the Procrustean doctrine and most education instututions remained cut out of the new problems that the human-made environment presented. However, most of them remained rather pluralistic. Typical is the case of the Yale Department of Architecture. Paul Rudolph had been part of the Procrustean circle. In 1958 he was appointed chairman of the Yale Department of Architecture as Louis Kahn was leaving the department. Rudolph had pursued a practice characterized by experimentation with new construction technologies and new buildingtypes, mostly single structures responding to the regional challenges of a semi-tropical region in Sarasota, Florida (Paul Rudolph, ‘Regionalism in Architecture’, Perspecta 4, Yale, pp. 12-19, 1957). However, at Yale, Rudolph turned away from novel technical thinking and regionalist concerns. He focused instead on the creation of new types of complex institutional buildings responding to new urban technological and economic realities. Yet he was not completely absorbed by the insular formalist Procrustean approach. One of his goals, against mainstream tendencies, was to tame the ‘chaos’ resulting from the freewheeling use of structural potentials, which other architects had welcomed. He also avoided a regression to the reductive, inhuman, ‘functionalist box’. Towards this goal he tried to develop a finite, rule- based, combinatorial typology of elementary spaces able to generate an infinite repertory of combinations of spaces (recalling similar elementarist efforts by early F. L. Wright and pre-war De Stijl). In the case of the Arts and Architecture Building at Yale, he produced a complex with no fewer than thirty-seven spaces on a multitude of levels and with an equal variety of lighting conditions. Like many buildings of the period in search of a humane architecture, the building was indifferent to human associations. While the complex was 'space-rich, it was ‘place-poor’.SS NAR) Aeon Figure 1 Paul Rudolph typology drawing, 1962. This sketch by Rudolph was done at almost midnight in one of his unscheduled night visits (his home and office being a few minutes away from the studio), that were on the still-unoccupied top floor of Kahn’s gallery. There was no fear about theft and vandalism at that time. Rudolph came to Tzonis’s desk, looked at the scheme and sketched on the yellow drafting role his theory about building types to make Tzonis conscious of what he was trying to do in his scheme. He never corrected anyone drawings directly. He only sketched options on the side There were other efforts to make American architecture responsive to the new needs of the environment and break away from the confines of recent tradition. Many tried to invent new types of buildings fit for the new transportation needs, especially the need for parking in cities that by the beginning of the 1960s was seen as the major destructive force of the urban environment and social quality. Louis Kahn, who between 1947 and 1957 taught at Yale, had developed highly innovative urban design plans for the future midtown Philadelphia. Kahn felt that to model the dynamic character of the modern traffic in towns he had to experiment with new means of graphic notation and poetic prose. In his new plans the city was represented as a complex hierarchy of movements, resembling a score of contemporary music, rather than as a three-dimensional static urban design space composition of solids and voids, with the exception of the gigantic parking facilities inspired by Buckminster Fuller structures. The project was shown in the Museum of Modern Art and was received positively, especially by young people. However, quantitative, analytical tools to grasp the environmental and social quality of the city were absent(Towards a Plan for Midtown Philadelphia, 1951-53, Perspecta II, August 1953). Most architects, on the other hand, turned to more conservative solutions in an attempt to recruit historical precedents. The Yale historian Carroll Meeks suggested early railway stations, in particular Italian monumental ones. In this spirit, Rudolph, commissioned to design a modern mega- parking for the city of New Haven, was inspired by a historical precedent, the Roman aqueduct. The project introduced into the humdrum New Haven urban setting drama and sublimity. Yet the historical precedent did not help him to design a truly functional facility. In addition, the narrow and unreal requirements of his client to bring the automobile in big numbers into the heart of downtown, the programme asking for the parking to cut New Haven from its surrounding vital areas, excluding any typological or urban innovation, led to the intractable conclusion that historical precedents could not be of any help. In most of these cases, history was reduced to narrow formalistic historicism, less a discipline to understand the world, natural and social, than a low-level handmaiden of design fostering bygone tastes. It applied skin-deep nostalgic tools drawn from simplified theories of the picturesque adapted to Victorian conformism and drew from ideas of the ‘City Beautiful’ architecture of ‘good manners’, whereby new buildings obeyed etiquette of ‘sociable behaviour’, to quote Trystan Edwards’s (1924) Good and Bad Manners in Architecture.g 8 + 2 068 6 OE a, )) ein Figure 2 Louis Kahn, Philadelphia Plan, 1953 i eee acetic Thus, the failure of architectural practice of the 1950s and 1960s was, to refer to Kennedy’s speech again, to ‘conserve and rehabilitate existing residential districts’ and fit new buildings into pre-existing historical urban fabrics. In this spirit, Rudolph tried to integrate the Arts and Architecture Building, a Wrightean pinwheel scheme, into the Chapel Street fabric of the other Yale University buildings and Peter Millard designed his New Haven fire station buildings as transitional components ‘responsive’ to town’s urban fabric and vistas (Robert Stern, Perspecta 9-10, 1965).The let-down of this historicist tactic was even more evident in Eero Saarinen’s Styles and Morse Colleges at Yale (1958-1962), where the architect tried to ‘re-urbanize’ architecture adapting the scheme to the surrounding Yale buildings by employing eclectically ‘picturesque’ neo- historicist tools. But the complex failed to capture the identity of the ‘cognitive map’ (to use Kevin Lynch’s term), not to mention ‘lifestyle’ of the New Haven Yale eclectic neo-Gothic colleges, emerging as an alien ‘kitsch’, disruptive element to the city. The colleges raised highly unsympathetic remarks such as those by Reyner Banham in the New Statesman review (‘Morse and Stiles’, New Statesman, 13 July 1962). Rudolph as chair of the Yale Department of Architecture sensed that architectural education had to open up to new ideas coming from many directions and specializations. However, he expressed this into educational policy by inviting criticism, even of his own work, and he did not hesitate to invite dissenting visiting critics, such as James Stirling, at that time. In his 1962 lecture at Yale, Stirling had presented his early regionalist Preston Housing in Lancashire 1957-1961. Rather than designing it with adherence to Procrustean, abstract, global principles, the project was conceived in the context of the ‘region’, the pre-existing slums, and tried to preserve the rich structure of social contact and the humanness of what Stirling had called the ‘horizontal approach’ of nineteenth-century housing, with its many opportunities of meeting. He stressed the social functionality of the slum, which was later to be misinterpreted as ‘nostalgia’. (Mark Crinson, ‘Picturesque and Intransigent’, Architectural History 50, 2007, pp. 267-295.) Similarly, once more in a talk delivered at Yale, in March 1964, concerned about the declining diversity and identity of regions as well as the waning of community in current architecture, Ed Barnes presented as an alternative project: the Haystack Mountain School. It was later published in Yale’s yearbook, Perspecta 9 (New Haven, 1965). ‘Continuity’ was the key concept Barnes used, a concept borrowed from Emesto Rogers, who had used it a few years before, attaching it to the title of the Milano magazine he had directed since 1953, Casabella. For Rogers, ‘continuity’ meant the need for architecture to sustain contact between individuals in order to empower community. It also meantphysically interrelating the ‘space between buildings, their scale and colour and mood’. Finally, it meant connection with the surrounding region, with its identity as it emerged out of natural evolution and history, as opposed to current professional practice, which supported individualism, ‘fragmented, fugitive, and often shallow’ and a practice carried out ‘in a highly competitive, building-by-building way’. Barnes believed that architecture was at a watershed: ‘The day of putting architecture on a pedestal [was] over,’ he affirmed. ‘I am arguing for an architecture which is in harmony with its environment ... When we discuss the need for continuity, we must not overlook the vital need for change and even revolt.’ Barnes was a student of Gropius but these ideas were very American, though not of the Procrustean group or mainstream professionals we mentioned before (on a personal level, however, Barnes was on very good terms with the group). His design thinking drew from the pragmatist and regionalist traditions of the country — as did, in fact, the early work of Paul Rudolph, as much as from the dissenting critical writings of Lewis Mumford on the moral, social and ecological responsibility of architecture. Similar ideas were shared by architects in Europe, among them Peter Smithson, John McHale, Enrico Peressutti, Shadrach Woods and Giancarlo De Carlo, all of them, with the exception of Peressutti, part of the rebellious group of post-World War II young architects, Team X, all of them invited to Yale by Rudolph. Team X became visible as a group when it was entrusted with the preparation of the agenda for the CIAM (Congrés internationaux d’architecture moderne) Tenth Meeting, which was to be held at Henry van de Velde’s Kréller-Miiller Museum in Otterlo in September 1959. Founded in 1928, one of the main goals of the organization was to generate congresses and events promoting the modern movement in architecture. Consistent with the character of international humanitarian organizations of the first part of the twentieth century founded to foster world progress and harmony, its character was bureaucratic, liberal and elite. Furthermore, although it declared architecture to be ‘a social art’ devotedto human emancipation and to urbanism as opposed to individual buildings for the privileged, it did not succeed in enlarging its traditional architectural scope and, apart from inviting artists and engineers, it remained mostly alien to new cultural, social and anthropological thinking concerned with alienating space, place and community. Place, community and alienation became key issues for Team X, which tried to do away with CIAM’s bureaucratic structures, inherited from its pre-World War II past. It eliminated an Executive Council and the projects were now discussed without the intervention of a chairman. Six days of the congress were devoted to the presentation of projects and two days to evaluation and discussions. In Otterlo, the discussions were dominated by Team X members, one of the most vocal ferocious being Aldo van Eyck. The target of van Eyck’s attacks was the post-war projects of reconstruction, housing and public buildings, products of welfare state administrations. In contrast to the US benign neglect attitude, where very little was done in terms of housing and public services, devastated Europe launched major projects of reconstruction — ‘housing for the greatest number’ — soon after the war was over, ironically to a great extent through American aid. Thus, while Kennedy’s message denounced the negligence, inaction or ‘haphazard development’ during the years after World War II, which resulted in ‘blight’, ‘decay’ and ‘waste’ in the environment and the destruction of community, for van Eyck, while ‘the material slum has gone — in Holland’, he asked, ‘what has replaced it? Just mile upon mile of organized nowhere, and nobody feeling he is somebody living somewhere. No microbes left — yet each citizen a disinfected pawn on a chess board, and no dialogue.” The idea of buildings as places for dialogue and as the essential determinant of good life (Maurice Friedman, Martin Buber’s ‘Narrow bridge’ and the Human Sciences, in M. Friedman (ed.), ‘Martin Buber and the Human Sciences’, Albany, SUNY Press, 1996, pp. 3-28) and community that van Eyck referred to had originated to a great extent in the writings of Martin Buber, mainly in his book Ich und Du (1923), with which van Eyck had been familiar since his student years. Buber’s writings were part of a major debate about ‘alienation’, whose roots wentback to the nineteenth century to the writings of Feuerbach and Marx that lead to the critique of modern society and the market as agents of the destruction of the dialogue that holds together human community. It was a reality that those who conceived and constructed the massive post- World War II welfare state projects ignored and suppressed. Van Eyck claimed that the reconstruction programmes produced masses of alienating spaces for the ‘greatest number’ but not ‘places’ for human dialogue (what he defined, borrowing Buber’s term, as the ‘realm of the between’), such as were the playgrounds for Amsterdam that he designed in the late 1940s and early 1950s, realms ‘engaged in the world’, objects whose meaning is ‘in use’, to quote Wittgenstein in his Philosophical Investigations entangled with a lived-in context. To the architecture of post-World War II projects, van Eyck juxtaposed his Children’s Home, commissioned by the City of Amsterdam in 1954, consisting of places for dialogue rather than spaces of alienation. To amplify his point, he presented images of Dogon tribal architecture in Bali, he had visited and documented tribal settlements loaded with symbolic meaning (at least as interpreted by outsiders) characterized by tightly knit built fabric enabling encounters between members of a highly interwoven community (John Voelcker, ‘CIAM 10, Dubrovnik 1956’, Architect’s Year Book 6). He writes that ‘the local communities regrouped themselves’ around the playgrounds very often’ (John Voelcker, ‘Polder and Playground’, Architect’s Year Book 6, 1955, pp. 89-94), In an effort to universalize its message, Team X invited the American architect Louis Kahn to be keynote speaker at the conference. Kahn was not so well known at that time. Born in 1901, he had realized very few buildings. But many young architects were spellbound by his few projects, his drawings and his dense aphoristic writings, which brought into architecture an aura of monumentality, poetry and ethos in contrast to the banality of mainstream practice in the US that Kennedy censured. Few, if any, in the audience of the Otterlo meeting knew that Kahn was more than charismatic and inspired. In fact, during the Depression, the Rooseveltian New Deal 1930s and the war years, Kahn, on his own and in collaboration with George Howe and Oscar Stonorov planned and designed community projects and social architecture, architecture carriedout with the participation of the users, and co-authored pamphlets promoting these ideas. But, by 1959, when the New Deal ideas were successfully suppressed and, like most of his contemporaries, he had abandoned his activism, his talents and vitality were channelled into becoming an architect’s architect, although his commitment to social architecture and community remained unshaken. At the time of his invitation by Team X, he was professor at the University of Pennsylvania, where he had received his architectural education. Kahn’s speech at Otterlo was the speech of an angry young man, anti-conformist and full of creative ideas. He urged young architects to conceive of new kinds of buildings: ‘We’re living in an era of new space demands, new things, which are so fresh and unfamiliar that most minds are unable to identify a single image.’ Yet the ‘wonderful resources’ designers have at their command are going to waste because of the permissiveness of the times, leading to what he called the ‘mess of copying and re-copying’ rather than innovative use. During the conference he presented his plans for the future midtown Philadelphia we mentioned above and the Richard’s Laboratories in the University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, where Kahn expounded his new model of the built environment, consisting of a dual system of ‘served’ (for services) and ‘servant’ (for places for dialogue). He justified the idea through an economic-technological argument: mechanical services that were faster, more voluminous and more complex were taking up more than 50 per cent of the budget of the building they deserved recognition and their own domain. He also advanced a humanistic argument: the division between service and served in buildings was needed to control and contain technology not to disrupt and destroy interaction, the integrity of places, where people met in ‘community’. Kahn’s talk, like van Eyck’s, employed a poetic language of emotional metaphors and expressive diagrams but did not supply any new effective methods to capture the reality of processes contained in space, creative or destructive. This was the case in most schools of architecture in US and Europe. In 1960, Jose Luis Sert founded the Harvard Graduate School of DesignUrban Design Program to face the new technological and social realities of the city. But the programme still employed traditional methods that treated urban projects as buildings, only ona larger scale. Architectural thinking remained imprisoned in the traditional frame of mind that cities and landscapes were just three-dimensional objects alike buildings. It failed to look at the environment as a ‘process’, a ‘system’ and a ‘place’ containing people and machines in need of being tamed: not just through a static scheme but to a dynamic ‘plan’. No wonder Kennedy made the provocative remark that ‘the problems related to the development and renewal of our cities and their environs have received comparatively little attention in research and teaching’. Instances of pioneering research programmes were rare. They had begun to emerge during the war years, when many of the country’s architects began to research problems related to the country’s post-war urban, social and environmental needs. Related to that was the American Society of Planners and Architects (ASPA) that Joseph Hudnut, together with Oscar Stonorov, Serge Chermayeff, Jose Luis Sert and others, founded in 1943 to offer an alternative institution, one that was more creative and relevant to the problems and potentials of the period after the war. More organized efforts took place after the war, as early as the early 1950s, such as the University of Michigan College of Architecture, which had established the Architectural Research Laboratory in the 1940s, and North Carolina State under Henry L. Kamphoefner, where Lewis Mumford, Buckminster Fuller and Serge Chermayeff lectured. However, a rising tide of research centres in architecture started at the end of the 1950s at the Joint Centre for Urban Studies at Harvard/MIT, at its equivalent at the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School and its Land Use and Built Form Studies, and at the Institute of Urban and Regional Development of Environmental Design at Berkeley. They tried to bring together many different disciplines, to conceive of new design tools and methods to understand and ‘plan’ the new artificial environment and cope with the intricacy and complexity of its ‘qualitative’ social, psychological and ecological aspects. It is within this context of historical development that Rudolph invited Serge Chermayeff to Yale, first as a visiting critic and subsequently as professor (after Chermayeff resigned from his Harvard professorship) to head a research-oriented graduate programme in 1962.Serge Chermayeff (Sergei Ivanovitch Issakovitch) was born in 1900 near Grozny, the capital of Chechnya. He was sent to England, where he attended Harrow and distinguished himself with an honours admission to Trinity College, Cambridge. But the collapse of his family’s finances in the wake of the Russian Revolution and World War | put an end to any plans for further education. He followed an early career in theatre, interior and furniture design while the same time becoming involved in the major debates of that period in Britain about modern art, pacifism, engineering, science, economics, socialism, the welfare state and planning. His circle included Henry Moore, Ben Nicholson, Barbara Hepworth, Naum Gabo, Eric Gill, Raymond McGrath, Berthold Lubetkin, Leslie Martin, Owen Williams, Ove Arup, Bertrand Russell, Desmond Bernal, I. B. S. Haldane and Julian Huxley. During the 1930s Chermayeff participated in establishing the English chapter of CIAM, MARS (Modern Architecture Research Society), and was one of the architects invited to represent England at an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art in New York (1937). Among Chermayeff’s European acquaintances were the Dutch architect T. Wijdeveld, the German musician Paul Hindemith, the French painter A. Ozenfant and the German-bom architect Erich Mendelsohn, a group with which he planned to start an experimental Académie Européenne de la Méditerranée for the arts near Cannes, in southern France, in 1931, a plan that did not materialize. In March 1933, Erich Mendelsohn, having fled Nazi Germany, joined Chermayeff’s architectural practice. Despite the economic crisis at that time, the new partnership was successful from the start. In 1934 it won the competition for the De La Warr Pavilion at Bexhill-on-Sea near Brighton, the setting for part of Graham Greene's Brighton Rock. Articles and letters appeared in the press with titles such as ‘Alien Architects Invade Britain’, their content jingoistic as well as anti-Semitic. By 1937 Mendelsohn left to work in Eretz-Israel and the partnership was dissolved. In the US, Chermayeff focused immediately on education and research, proposing for the University of California at Berkeley a detailed programme for ‘environmental design’, a pioneering concept at that time. Interdisciplinary research had to play a most important role in design education as it already did in medicine, agronomy and chemical engineering. The programme emphasized the changing priorities in design education, shifting from being fixated with forms of isolatedimage not availableimage not availableimage not availablecriticized the top-down ‘elementarist’ analytical approaches of philosophers), it supported many of Chermayeff’s ideas but also took a critical stance towards what he thought was a worn out, ‘establishment architectural thinking (Serge Chermayeff (ed.), Search for a New Urbanity, Yale University, Department of Architecture, 1962; ‘Commentary’ on the study by Alexander Tzonis). Tzonis agreed with Community and Privacy in arguing for the need to introduce ‘elementary’, ‘primary’ concepts to the fields of design and planning in order to replace the freewheeling, plan-less building of the times with a more rational approach. What he disagreed with was the exclusive faith the book placed on an abstract analytical approach, ignoring social everyday reality. He suggested instead that, in order to satisfy the objective of community and the de-alienation of the built environment, designers, without relinquishing abstract analytical elements, should rely on the ‘reality (of) already existing’ ‘institutions’, the concrete social ‘human associations’. Contrary to Community and Privacy, which secluded people and ultimately promoted alienation by applying a reductive methodology based on abstract principles of architecture, he suggested approaching problems as embedded in real ‘circumstances’, ‘lived-in conditions’, ‘experienced cases’ and ‘immediate contexts’. The ideas were not new, but they were recent arrivals in the world of architects who, as we showed above, had different priorities. Jean-Paul Sartre had suggested becoming ‘engaged in the world’, in its particular, unique ‘situations’ (Jean-Paul Sartre, L’Etre et le néant, Paris, 1943).image not availableimage not availableimage not availableThe entelechy of the event is the place. Whenever we have an event we ask for its place; whenever we have a place we ask for the event that should exist there. SECOND DEFINITION: POLARISATION SECOND PRINCIPLE: It is the discontinuity of the events that makes places necessary. The principles of continuity and discontinuity are of the same importance in the study of organization of architecture, as in structure, and in space. The nature of the events within the continuity of the Existence is discontinuous and dialectical. Each event is distinct from the other, and for this reason it requires a distinct place. In the beginning of the Modern Movement we have the acceptance of continuity in function ‘La nouvelle architecture est ouverte’. (Van Doesburg). The close empirical study of the nature of the events proves that they stay discontinuous and that each event corresponds dialectically to a diametrically opposite one. Whenever action occurs, forces operate between poles. Polarisation of the events is the characteristic in forming opposing dualities. There is a corresponding bifocality of the places. Discontinuity of the Events is applied to both time and space. Events being simultaneous in time must be distinct in space. Events coexisting in space must be distinct in time. In the overall reality of the city, events rotate in time and in space, bringing shadows and highlights. THIRD DEFINITION: ELECTIVE AFFINITIESimage not availableimage not availableimage not availableby Ricky Washton, a Yale graduate student of history of art and contributor to the magazines. The three texts by Tzonis published in the New York art magazines, although addressing architecture and urban issues, tackled the new problems of the human-made environment cutting across disciplines. The publications, The Arts Yearbook 9 and the Arts Magazine, were established in 1926 by The Art Digest. Among the contributors to the Arts Yearbook 9, edited by Lawrence Alloway (who introduced the term ‘pop art’ to refer to a cultural, not exclusively visual, phenomenon), dedicated to The Museum World were Dore Ashton, Allan Kaprow, Claes Oldenburg and Andrew Sarris, discussing the evolving nature of the museum as a social forum and as a place. Equally multifaceted was the composition of authors of the February 1967 issue of the Arts Magazine, which included Nicolas Calas, Dan Graham Andy Warhol, Lawrence Alloway, Alan Kaprow and Robert Smithson. For the May 1967 (volume 41, issue 7) issue of the same magazine, the contributors included Dore Ashton, John Lucas, Carl Andre, Lucas Samaras, Herbert Marcuse and Gregory Battcock. In his texts, Tzonis argued for an ‘open’ architecture, ‘open’ in the sense of permitting multiple interpretations by the people, ‘desirable unpredictability’ and ‘desirable randomness’, a meaning which Umberto Eco had used in his Opera Aperta in 1962. Consequently, institutional buildings, private or public, urban places, museums, offices, lobbies, corners of structures, and art objects should not be treated as isolated fragments but as components of an overall urban tissue, as parts of an environmental ‘open’ ‘system’, in its epistemological, moral and political connotations in all fields of culture. * * * 1967 Alexander Tzonis ‘Structure and randomness in museum architecture’image not availableimage not availableimage not availableSpatial highlights, lighting climaxes, juxtapositions and rhythmical repetitions reduce its very essence from a garden for cultural breeding into a garden of spectacles for consumption in leisure time. It is very interesting to note that when the architectural envelope creates the illusions of pseudo ‘freedom’ form, in a fallacious way, which is the universal space, the way of exhibiting the works of art becomes even more ‘over-structured’ and aggressive. As a result [ am afraid the information which can be derived from the museum is low. The certainty which arises is not a desirable one because it constricts the freedom through which our cultural organization can increase. The notion of desired uncertainty of choice, openness of structure, is neither a sign of human inability nor of necessary mystic, but a dynamic stage into the process of human cultural evolution. It is a fact which has to be accepted rationally and included constructively in our theory of design as an element of certainty of design. It is the essence of growth. What should be ordered should be constructed; what cannot be ordered should stay random. But the quantitative translation of it is beyond the limits of this article. 1967 Alexander Tzonis ‘Lobbies. Ambiguous voids in the urban fabric’ Arts Magazine 7. May, entitled Post Pop Art The lobbies are the ambiguous voids of our buildings. No matter if they are lobbies of offices, hotels, schools or apartments, their role seems undefined, a mysterious cast of a forgotten event. We tend to associate them with an uneasy feeling of boredom, of the too well known, or of anxiety of the unknown more than any other part of a building.image not availableimage not availableimage not availableIt is a fact that by the time the Seagram building was designed in New York there were more and more buildings proportionately appearing with better designed corners. Despite that sign of good behavior in the manners of ‘terminating’ a building, there are several voices that protest in anger against the random slogans endangering the sovereignty of ‘eternally’ true rules. They claim that those theories about ‘mobility and growth,’ ‘openness and change’ that create this uneasiness of change can be proven wrong after going again through the definitions of time and space by Kant or Schopenhauer. This philosophic associative technique is very close to the aesthetic associative rational practiced by many too many of us designing architecture. What I criticize is not the attempts to have works of architecture carry philosophical notions as images, although I believe that the slogan ‘form follows function’ is one of the wisest phrases ever to attempt a definition of design, I think it only makes sense if we combine it with the appendix that function also includes form; one of the obligations of function is form. Thus there is nothing incorrect in having an ideological message carried by an architectural structure. The trouble starts when we begin expressing ideological concepts that have already had their day, and are of no more interest as ideologies. The principle of expressing the termination of a building is derived from the basic concept of containment of space. As a principle it has its roots deep in the past of human history, having made its appearance at a certain stage in man’s development. It is very logical then to think that it may as well disappear if there is no need for it anymore: It was an image reflecting a complex set of powerful ideological structures and social institutions continuously alive and developed until the turn of the century: the classical concepts of property, the territorially defined, man-made environment versus the natural environment, and the relation of Life versus Death. It was the image of a defined entity in space within the natural environment, a world within the world, manifesting the continuity of existence through the survival of the spirit before and after Death.image not availableimage not availableimage not availableconceptualize in a rigorous manner. At Harvard, finding collaborators among the staff, such as the economist and regional scientist Walter Isard, the engineer Ovadia Salama and the new dean of the school, Maurice Kilbridge, was much easier than at Yale. The arrival of Tzonis at Harvard coincided with discussions between Jerzy Soltan, department chairman (appointed in 1967), and Jose Luis Sert, the dean, about the need for an exhibition programme for the Graduate School of Design (GSD). They decided to offer the directorship of the programme to Tzonis, who chose ‘place’ and ‘alienation’ as themes. ‘The first show prepared by Tzonis and his student team was De Carlo’s study of Urbino, as a ‘place’, and its plan of encounters for the community. It was followed by The Comedy of Alienation, the Work of Saul Steinberg (7-25 March, 1968), with original drawings by Saul Steinberg, and City and Alienation, photographs from the film archive of Michelangelo Antonioni, both compiled with the collaboration of the artists. Antonioni’s show was accompanied by short citations of texts by young Karl Marx on ‘alienation’. In contrast to the writers and artists who commented on the material poverty and absence of shelter of post- World War II cities, such as Vittorio De Sica’s Bicycle Thieves (1948) or Jules Dassin’s Naked City (1948), gave attention to alienation and absence of places for social contact. Also included in the programme was an exhibition on architecture and planning by Artur Glikson, a German- born Israeli architect who had died in 1966. Glikson did pioneering work between 1948 and 1958 with focus on the plan as generator of places for human dialogue and interaction. Rather than obeying economic objectives only, Glikson tried to inscribe his projects within the social and ecological framework of their region. Glikson identified with the goals of Team X and, in particular, Aldo van Eyck. The person who influenced most his regionalist approach was Lewis Mumford with whom he maintained a long correspondence. By coincidence, when Tzonis planned the exhibition Mumford was a resident in one of the Harvard Colleges. Tzonis invited him to open the exhibition (Artur Glikson, The Ecological Basis of Planning, edited and introduced by Lewis Mumford, 1971). Mumford’s talk underlined the humanistic, regionalist methodology of the work and credited the influence of Patrick Geddes on Glikson’s ecological thinking. Then he moved to a current theme about the need for protest and defiance andimage not availableimage not availableimage not availableneeetcl? Ov: Figure 6 N, ovum} RGANUM = eD Novum Organum cover, 6 January edition, 1969 1969 Alexander Tzonis ‘Letter from Harvard’image not availableimage not availableimage not availablewhile texts written by architecture students and young faculty resembled in their style and content texts by anti-authoritarian radical activist academics or intellectuals. 1969 Alexander Tzonis ‘Transformations of the initial structure’ Perspecta, Yale Universityimage not availableimage not availableimage not availableoy tes hem mata na pie one ot Iretacocy ete toto nia [rye ree tia grey seman futemain a coerwon= The seem ot eat ramen nto oa te (Wetsio on At wach exceed vn orm Sete niga menage ‘ec tn aroma cab (Bice nconig a covey poi he {Stocco bn tenancy ag anigner Ievecrepmsenaton ining wre cron oe “eee gate es et Copyrighted terialimage not availableimage not availableimage not availableetoang th hata menses aay ‘he eractonst grown sergenscvto me ermevare a eneytoo a ae {Prat ehcio cowed at parser! Seton conan reaate eee ‘The etre ator mevemart comnts sree, utc owned arabe naw 8 ‘Spang evev Soamesen Bepanng ages seetateetanten cnce ncompnes Severy 300 ater by 2 Cran tovevarh and acrot masa 2. Gata 1 tor pooeatans. sary o60n er {ottotaa eimatcmy corencteg havo ‘ope unt part toveaee and | Onesway weenie ireaear tan crave ot aneramne tive waons oe brenseres eden Slop se hs The opposvon wal an Se See ha cana bent nrogh ne woe esta epnnern sey wr Siesta rene nove paces owning 9 ninlabe everyanercnina nce ‘Satnav over consct on ve grsre Se nan rena gn Te “Smostets Spepoates wots cone ‘anaytu rears wan ops we (ier stg wim compan meee eteees esimage not availableimage not availableimage not availableThe Last Identity Crisis ot Architecture Alex Tzonis A. The Corrot of Cézanne 10 was only 0 few yoors age thet ane ot me mou prominent exchitectoral ond confrontations ‘ond tne univenities, The “upside down pyranid implies neither @ paradox in the phenamence of learning nor @ tymbal of power (or claw) struggle within The ruler of the flow of knowledge fram the move wise 10 the fess wise body ore still rue, Bul os in the cove of the poradox of the Maxwell denon, @ reversed flow (en inverted pyramid) con be crected if an appropriate contralling deviee is applied. Changing hhemon gosls, energing priorities in cultsce, end thus redefinitien of the ion (in it ole and in ts content), con be devices tnt generate from thet traditionally prof ‘direction in the learning process oppasi excepted. (Metophor ore olwoys isles aenerel rule but rather thot the reversal of several phenomena in our culture #osld be taken na! os ymptoms of @ pathology leading to disaster but rather os « demonstration of noxmel ‘evolutionary change. _lthat we ore cueing inthe tid of he ade mre thon "They otk for a new kind of knowledge tobe eltered to hom by the schocls of rcitectue.- The opponiog concepts of "edvcational relevance” vers "academic impotiolity, “wudent porticipotion” versus “academic freedom,” reveal the social framework within which the younger generation demands @ change in the identity of architectureimage not availableimage not availableimage not available8.1, After Team 10 What? In Europe, the criticism came trom Inside tne strongol of functionalism, the C.1.A.M.. la. 1947, 0 young group of architects ecided that they srcula join mele ettots around the pousbility of @ fnew kind of architecture, Thet was the beginning ot TEAM 10. The reaction of TEAM 10, olthough sporadically conservative ond Tecking towards tre post witn nostalgia, wat bosicelly conainetive ‘ond optimistic. The architects in the group were not concerned with the production of a grendieve theary. On the certeory, they ‘stressed of @ methodological principle tre importance of dealing with the porticulors of @ “situation” rether tran @ universal clesification iyatem, The work of architecture was to them on aggregation ot “places,” ports ot spoce where “events” happen. Thut, “events” neceuitated 0 finer grain than the abstract universal of functions 0 describe the pecullorities and the variations of human behavior within te envitoement. Their approach toward: vinal form was rother peculior. Although they recognized mat event” ena "place," rathern thon "form," were the prierities in the design of on eavircament, they Felt thet the qulty ond success of place depended on its viswal menifestetion, ‘whet Mey callea, “sense ot place,” The visvol determinants of the “cemprelversion* of e space; it wos on them tat 0 ploce’s success of foilure relied, 11 i obvious thot when Bokeme spake of "ihe speticl expression ot ‘me wnole population” or Peter Smithson of the "sociorplostics,” oF ‘even when Ihe group discussed "style," thelr attitude towards viswol cedar wos very different from the primary colour and baste mopes ot the Bouhous. ‘TEAM 10 searched for 0 sptia! longvoge, which they recognized 082 constont need oF ony culture with e pouibly variable expression This could elucidate "the pattern o! hunan auoctation,* "man’s lirk with soclety. Several members of the group were involved in o kind ot port time ‘ton anolysis. The indion pueblot, the Dogon, downtown St. Louis, ce well as Spalato, were examined on trot basis. The results were extremely touching commentaries en the ute of space tor @ posite rmetagnor, but hod very little to do with the perticulor forces thot determined the environment. The preoccupation with built fom ond the visuel ferm of the designed environments ogein limited ie oenitects from going farther ‘ond understonding the underlying, invisible, but reol potterns tot ‘exgonized benovior in the buildings they were observing or creating, Thus, “places” could nave been empty, despite oll the efforts to leuert “sense” In them, while “events” could be happening somewnere ‘elie ana in on unpredictable manner. Architects ogain missed the eppostunity to credit an identity tor meir prcteulon. Alter mony yeors of vocillotion, Peter Smithson complained that "erenitects nove eill rot found a builtomode. . . ,whereit con ell heppen” while Solton coccepted nat "ine wnole concept of opplemerotion Is today in theimage not availableimage not availableimage not availabletific pority by detaching themselver from @ lenge port of the eolity of meir problems, the 1ociel reality, Thus, they ttied to formulote tne lows of ine boticelly social procenes thot take ploce in the apece of the man-made environment, teking society Tn its present condition ax a self evident f Discusions about its tonsience, tne desial of its existonce ond its Senigeation were wepared to be “ideological” questions, debates of preference ond not of science. Hier ion Op. Malvin Webber, in his key eney ot me by going beyend the "locational behovise of various types. enooliinments, . «and the “phytical plon, . «os on end in inelf,” the leftovers of the “orenitecrual nevitoye" of planning. On the other hand, his refusal to comait hinselt to a memodatogy Stpensing on te three=dimeritonel expects of the environment did not vorartee bis wecess. His invention #9 isolate problems thot were connected with ideological questions implied tne accepronce, lently, of the ideology of the present stotus quo et on idealoay. Aatca wettes Op € Thus, the intellectual becomes very much the ideal savent, of described by Conte, who *would explain os well os guide Thos developments by seeing then whale, understending ond i tem, Out rot quettining their inevitability ony longer. al_ sow themlves indeed on raity,initeod 9° is traaitlenal As | wid befece, those developents should be con Ine Feameweck ofimage not availableimage not availableimage not availableInne protean b noe ceoay 10 poctice such an architecture, what cone vehoal 49? Protenoe Oenvel Bell, summarizing on embitious ‘oabents ef the brotionl,” One woraers bs tot cove who! toch « loge group of speciation in seiol studies com Eeiniening about the Yeor 2000 ond wramer Donie Bell's excuse thet the scholon functioned "depending on ena’ temperment [on copropriate oon. {Dhot Veblen decribed ence) which suggests het the vide dowry Preemid ofthe stents not bod ideo. ti other preposterous In ihiststance to make the cxgunant of ecedante lrewdon.image not availableimage not availableimage not availableand challenging. The exhibition was to inform the visitors but also to incite them to engage in action. The students reacted accordingly, creatively and destructively. Thus, on 30 May 1968, the day of the opening of the exhibition, De Carlo was confronted by radical protestors who demanded to shut the exhibition because they disagreed with its content but also, more importantly, because this exhibition, dedicated to participation, never asked them to be part of it. Their demand was met and the opening was cancelled (Paola Nicolin, Log 13/14, ‘Beyond the Failure: Notes on the XI1Vth Triennale’, Fall 2008). Figure 31 Giancarlo De Carlo, Urbino, plan analysis The contradictory event recalled Prova d’ Orchestra, a film by Federico Fellini, where the antagonism between the conductor, trying to impose order, and the members of the orchestra, struggling to express their individual creativity, threatened to destroy not only the Prova but alsoimage not availableimage not availableimage not availablestructure, what De Carlo characteristically called ‘the Pyramid Upside- down’. The Tzonis—Lefaivre response went beyond debating De Carlo’s positions on participation, attacking or defending the power of the architectural profession and accepting or doubting the existence of professional architectural expertise. It looked into the topic of participatory architecture from a higher level and identified a wider movement of the times, which it named ‘populist’. Under populism, the paper included the art and architecture tendency expressed by architects such as Robert Venturi and Denise Scott Brown, incorporating advertising signs and commercial iconography and refusing to recognize the distinction between high and low culture. It included the approach that opened the design process to behavioural scientists to introduce attributes of users’ lifestyle, which were unknown to the professional architect, into the product. It recognized under populism administrative planning approaches (such as those proposed by John Habraken) that invited users into the design process, giving them the freedom to modify or build for themselves (at least in part) the environment they lived in. It also included a ground-up ‘self-help’ way of doing things, where almost all decisions are taken ‘by the people’ The paper doubted the claimed liberation potential of these approaches, arguing that they gave the illusion of freedom exercised on the consumer level while in reality the production of the human environment remained subject to the overriding power of the production economy. In contrast to the manifesto tone of the previous texts, the character of the article on ‘populism’ was analytical and critical, which the authors felt was what was needed at that moment. The text was first published by the German magazine Bauwelt, before the Forum. Like Deutsche Bauzeitung, Bauwelt, founded in 1910, was a major professional magazine. Its director since July 1957, Urlich Conrads, was also director of Bauwelt Fundamente, a series of books on architectural theory that had already translated into ‘German the Non- Oppressive Environment. (Verbaute Leben, 1973). Both book and article were recommended to Conrads of the Deutsche Bauzeitung by the Swiss economist and sociologist Lucius Burckhardt, who, with his wife Annemarie, edited the Swiss magazine Werk. Burckhardt taught at ETH, sharing what he called a ‘Lehreanapé’ (a teaching sofa) with Rainer Senn (an ironic and institutional comment on the concept of the universityimage not availableimage not availableimage not availablepopular yet wonderfully abstract.’ Haskel thought he was beholding the triumph of the ‘democratic wilderness.’ Indeed, the impetus of the ‘popular movement’ was irresistable for a time. Even Tom Wolfe, the American journalist soon joined in enthusiastically. In his article ‘Learning from Las Vegas’ he compared Las Vegas to Versailles as ‘the only two architecturally uniform cities in history.’ Very soon, Reyner Banham, acknowledging the popular disrespect of the architectural norms complained that ‘motels, super markets, bowling alleys, filling stations, hamburger stands, even private houses,’ which have been conceived through what he called ‘emotional engineering,’ had been missing from the exhibition under way at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City entitled Modern Architecture, USA.' This ‘unexplored territory accounts for perhaps 95% of all buildings put up in the United States . . . We can no longer refer to such a fact as an exception to the rule.’ The products of ‘frank and pleasurable emotional engineering . . . do not answer a purely stylistic definition of “quality” but “the quality involved is too big to be ignored.” Banham asked who the creators of the new architecture would be. ‘Who knows what they look like, or if they exist? Even those who seem to think they understand it, still admit how little they know.’ This question however was of great professional interest, for if a new need for the so called emotional engineering products was arising, and then surely someone would be needed to fill that need. Concern began to stir in the hearts of many. It was finally Robert Venturi and Denise Scott Brown who put these ideas into practice. They proposed as a design project to their students in the School of Architecture at Yale University a study of Las Vegas and an educational trip to the city was organized.” They documented and analyzed Las Vegas in search of possibilities for future design products. Their efforts both shocked and intrigued. Their lectures and articles of the sixties were unique for the wit and for the acuity with which they exposed the abuses and contradictions ofimage not availableimage not availableimage not availableusers.”’ It ‘puts up barriers to their way of life.’ Examples from all over the world were cited in the article of slum tenants who preferred their old and poorer dwellings to technologically superior housing conditions. Having pointed out these and other disservices of architecture Brolin and Zeisel proposed an alternative to the design decision process. They proposed to limit the power of the architects and to integrate the user in the conception of every plan. This was feasible as long as the operation involved the help of an applied sociologist they insisted however. His duty would be to intervene as arbitrator between user and designer, supplying information on the living pattern and ‘latent social structure’ of the future inhabitant. The sociologist would obtain his information ‘by repeated observation and the use of other techniques surveying attitudes, informal interviewing, counting how often people do things.’ According to Brolin and Zeisel user needs could neither be understood through intuition nor satisfied through the blind application of arbitrary and standardized formulae. Therefore the intervention of a specialist taking the role of detached and impartial observer was indispensable in the design decision making process. But, how could the sociologist remain detached and impartial if he was responsible to the sponsor of the plan, even in the case where the sponsor happened not to be the user of the product, as in the case of mass housing? Some other young architects and students proposed a solution. They were inspired by the advocacy movement in planning which required the planner to be an ‘advocate’ of the community where he worked instead of an outsider. The advocate planner was responsible to his client and sought only to express the user’s views. The advocate architect produced his plans with the community. The people would become incorporated in this fashion into the design process to prevent infiltration of alien values. Part of the advocate designer’s job was to present and explain his plans regularly to the users to insure that the desire of the users had been correctly met and properly implemented. Furthermore, he would present those plans to the sponsors or potential sponsors of the project and defend them as legal cases. Whether the sponsor was an entrepreneur or a government official, the main concern of the advocate designer was to defend the freedom of the user to decide on the final product of the design process. At approximately the same time, a more extreme position was taken by a British architect, John Turner, who had been studying the barriadas ofaa You have either reached a page that is unavailable for viewing or reached your viewing limit for this book.aa You have either reached a page that is unavailable for viewing or reached your viewing limit for this book.aa You have either reached a page that is unavailable for viewing or reached your viewing limit for this book.aa You have either reached a page that is unavailable for viewing or reached your viewing limit for this book.aa You have either reached a page that is unavailable for viewing or reached your viewing limit for this book.aa You have either reached a page that is unavailable for viewing or reached your viewing limit for this book.aa You have either reached a page that is unavailable for viewing or reached your viewing limit for this book.aa You have either reached a page that is unavailable for viewing or reached your 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viewing limit for this book.aa You have either reached a page that is unavailable for viewing or reached your viewing limit for this book.Index Abrams, Charles 19 Académie de la Grande Chaumiére 133 Académie Européenne de la Méditerranée 17 Académie Royale d’ Architecture 94n3, 95, 95n4. Action Architecture 26, 127 Albers, Joseph 26 Alberti, Leon Battista 110, 133, 134-138, 141, 147, 148, 151, 153, 155, 158, 197n2 Alexander, Christopher 18, 19, 95n3, 164, 165 Alloway, Lawrence 27, 28 Alofsin, Anthony 122 American Institute of Architects 18, 83n10 American Institute of Planners 83, 84n4, 84n13, 87 Amsterdam 177, 215, 252, 254-257, 258, 259, 14, 15, 54 Analogy 146-170, 216, 236 Andre, Carl 27 Antonioni, Michelangelo 37, 38 Appel, Karel 257 Aragon, Louis 21, 22 Art Brut 258n26 Arup, Ove 17 Ashton, Dore 27 Athens 19, 127, 222, 224, 227, 228, 241, 255n10 Autonomy 160, 161, 180, 195, 231, 269, 279, 282 Bakema, Jacob 212, 213, 218 Banham, Reyner 12, 26, 78, 78n1, 81, 186, 196 Barnes, Edward Larrabee 12, 13 Bastion 95, 143, 144, 146-152 Battcock, Gregory 27 Battisti, Eugenio 103n8, 103n9, 146 Bauhaus 26, 85, 96, 121, 141, 271 Bay Region Style 183, 184n3 Bay, Philip Joo Hwa 239Bell, Daniel 119n14, 128 Benjamin, Thompson 54 Bergson, Henri 225, 226 Berkeley, Institute of Urban and Regional Environmental Design 191, 17 Berlin 175, 178, 179, 204, 227, 228 Berlin Free University 208-220, 260 Bernal, Desmond 17 Bernstein, Basil 90n28, 93 Berwick, Robert 93, 94n1, 168, 170, 172, 236 Bilbao effect 211, 268, 270, 273, 274 Black Mountain College 26 Blake, Peter 19 Boudon, Philippe 80n3, 231 Boullée, Etienne-Louis 98n11, 168 Bourdieu, Pierre 186, 233 Bourgeois, Victor 255 Bridgehead, conceptual 246, 248 Brolin, John 81, 82 Brunelleschi, Filippo 134, 241 Buber, Martin 14, 20, 192, 222, 254 Buckminster Fuller, Richard 8, 16, 26, 186, 200 Buonarotti, Michelangelo 134, 138, 139, 140, 211 Burckhardt, Lucius and Annemarie 75, 121, 122, 196 Cage, John 26 Calas, Nicolas 27 Calatrava, Santiago 161, 198, 199n8, 201, 209n3 Caldwell, James 40 Camus, Albert ‘homme révolté,’ 256n14 Candilis, Georges 23, 71, 208, 212 Canguilhem, Georges 93 capitalism 115, 266, 267 Caramuel de Lobkowitz, Giovanni 140-142 Carlson, Rachel 6 Cassini, Jean-Dominique 99 Cataneo, Pietro 150 Chang, Gary 278 Chermayeff, Serge 6, 16-20, 22, 26, 27, 40, 44, 74, 92, 127, 164, 165, 170, 183, 192, 196 Chicago Institute of Design 18 Chicago World’s Columbian Exhibition 181Choisy, Auguste 225-227 Chombart de Lauwe, Paul-Henry 22, 226, 230 Chomsky, Noam 109 CIAM, Congrés Internationaux d’ Achitecture Moderne 13-5, 17, 19, 22, 255, 257-260 City Beautiful movement 9, 110, 181 Cobra Group 252, 257-259 collaborative design 239-250 Collége de France 230-239 Colonna, Francesco 134, 155, 158, 159 Community and Privacy 18-20, 164 Computer Aided Design 37, 164-166, 240 Condorcet, Nicolas de 88n25, 101 Conrads, Ulrich 75, 257, 258, 260 Constant 217, 218 Coombs, Bob 40 Coop Himme!b()au 172 Crane, David 19 Creighton, Thomas H. 6 Critical Regionalism 3, 122, 123, 175, 126, 128, 172, 181, 195, 210, 261, 277 Cunningham, Merce 26 Da Vinci, Leonardo 145, 148, 149, 161, 167 Dallas 273 Davos Forum 271 De Carlo, Giancarlo 13, 37, 70, 71-75, 192, 215, 216 De Cointet, Etienne 94 de Seta, Cesare 146 De Stijl 7, 184, 260 Debord, Guy 44 Design Knowledge Systems (DKS) 143, 160, 167, 170, 194, 235, 239, 245 design, analytical paradigm 8, 20, 37, 165, 166, 216 design, archaic 19, 93, 94-97, 100, 111, 116, 131, 132, 137, 225, 264, 266, 275 design, collaborative 239-250 design, computers and 44, 164, 166, 235, 237, 241, 244 design, multi-agent 245 determinism, economic 115, 130 determinism, environmental 101, 219 Deutsch, Karl 18, 19, 70, 192, 218, 218di Giorgio, Francesco 110n5, 144, 147n4, 148, 151 Dirty Realism 3, 173-181 Dogon, Mali 15, 19, 74, 253 Douglas, Mary 90n28, 93 Doxiadis, Konstantinos 227-228 Drevon, Jean-Francois 232 Drexler, Arthur 278 Dubuffet, Jean 258 Durkheim, Emil 117, 140 Eames, Charles and Ray 174, 179, 226 EAT, Art and Technology 54 Eco, Umberto 27 Ecole des Beaux-Arts 86, 99, 223, 227, 230, 232, 278 Ecole Polytechnique 230 Ecole royale des ponts et chaussées 99 Eduardo, Paolozzi 26 Einstein, Albert 26, 209 Eisenman, Peter 74, 109n1, 172, 179 Electric Circus 54 Espoo, Town in Finland 53 ETH, Zurich 76, 231 Faure, Elie 225 Foerster, Heinz von 18, 192 Ford Fund 19 Fortier, Bruno 101, 120n15 fortifications 99, 111, 146-152 Foucault, Michel 44, 94n1, 101, 120n15, 232 Freeman, Michael, 33, 94n1, 108 Freud, Sigmund 114n10, 193 Friedman, Yona 216, 218, 259 Fuksas, Massimiliano 279 fundamentals, architectural 276, 280 Gabo, Naum 17, 257 Galbraith, J. K. 89, 192 Galison, Peter 247 Gans, Herbert 83, 86, 88 Garland Architectural Archives 161, 236 Geddes, Patrick 38, 180, 185, 187, 188, 228, 229 Gehry, Frank 177, 201, 220, 268, 270, 271image not availableimage not availableimage not availableimage not availableimage not availableimage not availableaa You have either reached a page that is unavailable for viewing or reached your viewing limit for this book.