Up The Stairs And On Your Right

This next chapter discussed is titled "Platforms that Separate / Slopes that Join / Stairs that Climb and Pause". And Lyndon begins it by noticing the hierarchies that are created with the elevations. Those who are higher, and placed where they can interact with lower level, for example the edge of a balcony or patio, may observe with a greater view. It concerns being above eye level. Where everybody is on the same level, all eyes are equal. With the addition of elevation, the separation creates a difference between the two parties that result in a hierarchy.

These hierarchies are omnipresent. The mere feat of creating platform higher than sea level or the level that could be considered "ground level" stems from the conquering of gravity. Nature's very own gravitational pull that exists wherever we go gives value to the creation of raised platforms. It is not surprising that we, as a civilized race which can use the tools at our disposal and build upwards, have challenged Mother Nature and pushed the boundaries of the possibilities of height since we could lay a brick on top of another. Why are the Pyramids at Giza so awesome? We marvel at the feat of the Egyptians (also believing that it is beyond human capabilities) for their defeat of gravity. Not only does height play into equation, but the mass or each massive brick adds to the unbelievable accomplishments of the Egyptians.

In the not so distant past, the production of steel and the boom of industry allowed us to build upward without building outward. The skyscraper. Its very existence stemmed from the lack of space as a result of rapid urbanization with the birth of the high-rise. Citizens need places to stay in the city. What corporations did with this creation continued the Antigravity Race among others and Mother Nature again.

The extremely capitalist world of America during the beginning of the 20th century and the new possibilities in construction became the new Olympic grounds for large companies to compete. Whoever could build a larger building and could fight gravity the longest and hardest was obviously the better company. It was a show of their money and thus the hierarchy was made apparent and clear. Pretty soon we began building beyond our physical capabilities. The stairs that had once gauged the size of the building became almost obsolete, now only required for safety reasons. The invention of the elevator was the fix for the busybody citizens of New York and Chicago. Nobody had any more time to use the stairs. It was too much of an inconvenience anyway.

A Take On Peter Keating - The Fountainhead

The frailty of genius, it needs and audience. 

- Sherlock Holmes (BBC 2010)

Ayn Rand's Peter Keating in The Fountainhead is anything save exceptional. He's won the game of high society, becoming what everybody wants, a public servant. His mother had "pushed him into his career." Years later, after becoming Guy's partner at Francon & Heyer with the murder of Stengel Heyer, Keating asks Dominique Francon whether she thinks that he is a great architect.

This question is not the only instance in which he doubts himself and his abilities. The problem is that he relies on the approval and opinion of others to tell him whether his work is good or even worthy. Becoming accustomed to this constant reality checking, Keating fails to recognize and express himself in his own work. Along with this, he even visits Howard Roark, his sworn enemy, asking him for his opinion and help. What Keating hasn't done is ask himself how he feels about his own designs. Does he value his own opinions at all? What he doesn't have is his own style. Instead, it's amalgamation of what everybody else wants and it is part of the Rand's commentary on a huge majority of our architects. As Roark would have put it, they are not architects, but archaeologists. What would Keating do without his audience? If no one told him whether he was doing a good job, would he still practice architecture?

Is Peter Keating a genius? No, not really, but he is still talented. And after all, he is what you can call successful (I'm only halfway through the book). He can draw. In fact, he had once wanted to become an artist. Had he done so, he could have had complete ownership of his work. The first display of his weakness showed when he submitted to his mother's wishes. She had thrust the profession of architecture upon him and he allowed her to do it. Although it was okay for him to go down this path since he could still do a bit of what artists do, Keating gave up his own identity and wishes, taking on everyone else's, starting with his mother's. 

A Closer Look... The Grid. The Path.

The Cartesian plane, recognized and used by the French mathematician Decartes, allows for the specification of points or objects at the intersection of two perpendicular axes. It's one of the easiest ways to order things. We all know how grids are a part of our lives. The city is a prime example of grid planning. This extension of the axis use is everywhere and dominates historical urban planning. However boring it may become, the ease an convenience of the grid makes it extremely useful. As a pedestrian, I cannot thank Decartes enough for the grid. Order and consistency is sometimes just the thing you need to get from one place to another. The reliability of the grid is overlooked.

I live in the city of San Francisco. Although it may be known for Lombard Street, the craziest and most unpredictable street ever lain, the other majority of the city is rather quite structured. At the first glance, the city looks like it's bisected by a large street that runs diagonally from the northeast to the southwest. This is Market Street, an obvious axis that runs through the city. You'd think that the rest of the streets, falling into a grid model, would follow this axis. However, the rest of the streets seem to be unperturbed by this axis, positioned in a grid whose axes generally run north to south and east to west.  You may find this odd but if you had to find your way through the city, you wouldn't think so any longer. 

If you take a look at Market street and follow it from the northeast at the ferry building (the axis ends at this building in the Embarcadero! Closure!) to the southeast toward twin peaks, you'll see that this street, labeled with an axis, becomes a wandering path. Remember the introduction to the axis? "Paths are where you feet actually trod, so what happens along the way becomes the important thing... [they allow] the feet to wander, explore, make choices, and put things in sequence." Market street hits the hills and the path must conform to the land. Driving south along Market, you will be lead down this winding path and you'll allow yourself to wander. If you're just trying to get through it, you'll still be taken along for the ride which is anything but straightforward. That is the nature of the path. The designer will lead you. In this case, the hills are leading you. The men who laid down the path had no choice to the follow it too.

Through Here You'll See The Axis

I've begun my exploration of architectural composition with Chambers for a Memory Palace, written by Donlyn Lyndon and Charles W. Moore. The book itself is a series of letters that these authors have written to each other concerning different aspects of what creates a space, and what creates a structure. Lyndon begins with the axis, starting the readers off with an introduction to an element of design that seems to unite all and provide a solid visual foundation.

There were two examples that Lyndon put in his first letter. His references actually displayed different ways that the axis is used throughout a complex: the Cranbrook Academy of Art, with it's simple yet effective central axis, is compared to the intricate and deliberate use of the axis in all three dimensions in Agra, India's Taj Mahal. 


Axes appear quite often, within the most common objects to the world's most unique structures. One of these examples may be in front of you this very moment. Your computer or handheld is directly across from you as I communicate my thoughts. Lyndon simply states that "axes are, after all an extension of being face to face; when you want to be certain to give your full attention to someone, or to signal that you are doing so, you position yourself opposite them, your bodies roughly aligned, your eyes attending to theirs." This is precisely what is going on as you read this blog. Apparently, this very same relationship occurs when we interact with other objects, such as spaces or buildings. This is where the axis holds its true meaning.

This begs the question, "What is the point of an axis?" It exists in many different relationships. A sense of unity can be found along it and across it, perhaps even a balance or contrast. They can be found in many non-traditional ways and don't always have to follow one object or be contained to a specific structural feature, like a hallway or a canal. They can even extend beyond the walls of a building and continue infinitely. For example, Charles W. Moore, who replied to Lyndon's letters, explained that the Beverly Hills Civic Center in California needed to have a series of the buildings connected to the larger landscape while still being able to stand on their own. While the complex had halls and rooms set up in the form of a classic two dimensional grid, he united the series of buildings on a diagonal axis, "the longest the site afforded (southwest to northeast)." This axis, which may not be immediately apparent to an occupant of any of the buildings, is noticeable while walking along the axis, as this axis is actually present. 

Lyndon puts it rather simply that the axis "[allows] the mind to do the connecting."When occupying a space, you can notice these qualities. Do you feel isolated in the space? Does you feel connected to other spaces and feel invited you them? The axis, depending on the way that it is used in the design can have any of these effects. 

While I can agree with Lyndon and Moore and their assertions about axes, I can't help but notice that this element, the axis, which essentially is a thing of the mind, can be thrust upon any design that has the tiniest amount of symmetry or linear unity. This, of course, is a result of the tendency to pass over the full meaning and effect of the axis; however, it is very reasonable for anyone that is asked to find axes around them, or to point out numerous examples of obvious symmetry. It's not that they are wrong per se, but the original question would have to follow a context, suggesting composition from a design standpoint. It reminds me of the way that high school students will tear apart a short text and make far-fetched inferences from examples that may have meant nothing to the author. Teachers who to encourage this "close examination" and perhaps even call it "critical thinking" are instilling a bad habit. That's an entirely different topic, though. Not every intersection and symmetry found in a structure means something, beyond the fact that it may just be supporting something else. If you want to approach this structurally though, the properties of the axis can very useful. Balance is key for many building configurations. Practicality exists. The axis as an architectural element can much more than just a cosmetic addition.

Welcome

The independent study and its focus.


This began with a hope to continue my architectural studies at the beginning of my senior year of high school with an eye opening curriculum that would prove applicable in the near future... Architectural Design with Focus in Green Technology and Sustainable Design. However, something occurred this summer that made me realize that I am not ready to even think about such a course. I couldn't even have an intellectual conversation about design. Feeling quite stupid, I knew I had to do something about it. 


I realized that I knew very little about the world of architecture itself. In other words, my architectural vocabulary was lacking. Walking along the streets of San Francisco while looking at all of the different designs of this city, I found myself noticing all of the little structural components (decorative, too!) of these buildings and asking myself "What are these called? Where did such an idea come from? Why are these even necessary?" This gap in my thinking and education would greatly limit me in any conversation with an informed person in this field, rendering me very embarrassed. I cannot even begin to learn the practice of or appreciate architecture if I do not have the words to express myself. Knowing the histories and perhaps theories of the field would begin to allow me to design with much more perspective. And we all want perspective. 


And so, I have changed the focus of my independent study. It now reads, on paper, Architectural Composition and History. Now that I know what I am aiming for, how will I carry this out?


Recommended by friends and approved by my mentoring teacher in this study, Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead, a fictional account of two architects with completely different approaches and attitudes to their field will be my first text. At the same time, I will reading Chambers For A Memory Palace by Donlyn Lyndon (who has an outrageously clever name) and Charles W. Moore in order to learn about the different components of architectural design.


This blog, as apart of my study's assessment, will show what I have learned.


And so it begins.




The texts:

A Lick Wilmerding High School Independent Study. 2011 - 2012