The spirit of Jacob Bronowski hovers over the work of Nikos Salingaros.

It was Bronowski who

so eloquently stated that for science to proced we need not be right or complete: the best of our

intellectual giants were wrong and incomplete. Progress depends on being absolutely genuine

and courageous enough to leave the solid ground of safe but uninteresting questions for the

swamp of difficult issues. A Theory of Architecture, by Nikos Salingaros, confronts difficult

issues head on. Salingaros explores ways to clarify and formalize our understanding of aesthetic

forms in the built environment, using mathematics, thermodynamics, Darwinism, complexity

theory and cognitive sciences. An inspiration for Salingaros is The Nature of Order, a four-

volume work by architect Christopher Alexander. He assumes that readers are familiar with

Alexander's work and have reasonable literacy in mathematics and the sciences.

This collection of essays is a work in progress with both gaps and overstatements. (The use of

scientific terms and analogies is freewheeling enough to require patience from specialists, but

rewards the effort.) Essentially a compilation of previously published articles, the material begs

for a complete reconstruction as a single work, and would greatly benefit from more graphics. It

is currently up to the reader to find the main threads and weave them together. Salingaros's

strongest and most insightful ideas revolve around complexity and levels of scale as they affect

the quality of architectural design. This review focuses on those aspects of the book.

Complex systems- those composed of many 'agents that interact somewhat independently- are

characterized by "emergent properties, in which groups of interacting agents self-organize into

patterns at the next larger scale. There are typically many levels of scale relationships. Rules

describing scale are eritical in complex systems, e.g. the self-similarity of the different-scaled

components of a tree (twig, branch and trunk). Similar scale- or proportion-based laws

including power laws) describe spatial distribution, e.g. trees in the forest. Visual elements that
combine and recombine as multi-scaled perceived patterns aptly describe much architecture. A

concrete example: a well-proportioned building generally has windows and doors whose sizes

are multiples of some basic material dimensions (stone building blocks, perhaps). Groups of

windows, perceived as a visual unit, are not only proportional to the individual windows (and

thus to the blocks), but also to the whole façade. Block, window, grouping, and façade are

levels of scale in a "*scaling hierarchy."

Salingaros argues that hierarchical scaling rules are as basic to complex systems, including

architecture, as analytical rules are to physics.

derived from scaling rules in nature govern human appreciation of architecture. In particular, a

great many complex natural objects have components that scale by a factor of approxımately 2.7

(the natural logarithm e). From this, Salingaros derives his most basic principles about

architecture:

He postulates that cross-cultural universals

Because humans comprehend natural pattern by recognizing hierarchical scaling, similar

scaling hierarchies make architecture comfortable and visually pleasing. Architecture that

lacks hierarchical scale can be ex citingly iconoclastic but is ultimately disquieting.

Architecture, to elicit positive responses, should have a full hierarchy of elements whose

Scales relate by a factor of 2.7. In practice, perceptual elements and groupings that relate by

any factor between 2 and 4 produce good results.

'International Style" Modernism (one of Salingaros main targets) eliminates intermediate- and
small-scale elements. The Modernist fascination with huge blank surfaces and prohibition of

ornament leaves only large-scale proportions. This lack of hierarchy is hard for human

perception to comprehend, says Salingaros, and therefore alienating

Salingaros expands these essential ideas in fascinating observations about buildings and

perception, and attempts to produce rules by which scaling can inform both design and

evaluation of architecture. Perhaps because his background is physics, Salingaros tries overly

hard to codify Rules, but each is thought-provoking and goes well beyond the stale dogmas that

burden so much design practice today.

Hierarchy and complexity result in visual interest at varied viewing distances, according to

Salingaros, and an ordinary building (up to about ten stories) should have eight to ten levels of

scale, starting from detail like wood grain or stone texture just visible to the eye (about /16 to

inch). Each level needs to have a scale two to four times larger than the previous, and no scales

should be skipped. (Convenient basic dimensions of a scaling hierarchy for a small building

might be /s", , T"', 4", l'6', 6, 24', 72- or 2mm, 8, 24, 96, 3m, 9, 27, 81 -; note that the

scaling factor varies.) Elements at one scale benefit from being 'framed' in the next-smaller

scale. How contrast and similarity define elements and groupings is also discussed.

Clearly, these are not rules that would be sufficient for a computer to generate a building. Many

other skills (and rules) are involved. Proportioning rules can tweak almost any creative design-

but they have nothing to say about structural mechanies, about building functions, or about

dealing with zoning board and code inspector.

Less explicitly, though often eloquently, Salingaros proposes (and tries to justify scientifically) a
design process in which decisions at every level affect every other one, rather than a dominant

grandiose theme. He clarifies why eye-level perspectives are more relevant than plan-and-

section drawings, and why buildings and developments that look good on paper, in scaled-down

representation, often look horrible when constructed. As an "outsider" observing architecture, he

grasps concepts that many architects miss.

Several fundamental issues need to be resolved before Salingaros' work truly becomes A Theory

The first is that his use of terms is often out of keeping with standard usage in architecture. For

example, "a scale for Salingaros is a class of elements in an architectural design - and an

ambiguous class at that. To trained architects, a scale is a unit of measurement, a relationship of

enlargement or reduction, or a zoom-in/zoom-out view. Architecture 's conventions are ripe for

revolution, but to be influential, new terms must take old ones into account, even those that are

rejected.

Secondly, by accident or intent, Salingaros refuses to distinguish between perceptual elements

and physical parts. A building's proportions are affected by physical construction but bricks

can be plastered, or framing disguised, until perceptual proportions bear little relationship to

structural ones. Salingaros does not deal with tangible or theoretical influences of structure, such

as modular materials, Modernism as an adaptation to technological change in the building

industry, or the differences between form-making in natural growth and in construction.

Finally, the idea that beauty is reducible to comprehensibility, and aesthetics to information

theory, fails to ring true. Seeing something understandable results in a quick, nearly dismissive,

I know what that is. " Seeing something beautiful results in visceral satisfaction and attraction.
As it stands, A Theory of Architecture teaches little about this emotional, possessive, and

inspiring reaction to great architecture, or about natural beauty. Despite these limitations,

Salingaros' remarkable observations suggest that concepts of complexity and scale can someday

provide a full-bodied explanation for both the practice and the appreciation of architecture.