New Video Channel: ARCHITECTURE MINUTE

Launched this month is my new YouTube channel, Architecture Minute. Like this blog, the channel explores all facets of architecture, including architectural history, philosophy, and new ideas. Iconic buildings and important architects are also part of the mix. The great thing about a video format is, of course, the expanded ability to present the visual aspect of architectural appreciation. 

There are many vlogs about architecture, including some with similar titles. (There are only so many pithy words you can combine with architecture!) It would be a great help to my efforts if, once you find my videos, you LIKE (the thumb-up icon) and SUBSCRIBE to the channel. If you're like me, it's kind of an annoyance to be asked to commit to yet another electronic "like". But that is the only way my YouTube channel will be searchable through the inscrutable algorithems of Google and YouTube. Please LIKE and SUBSCRIBE. It costs nothing. Sincere thanks!

The first season of Architecture Minute is ten episodes. In truth, with introductions and end titles, each episode is more like two minutes, but "architecture two minutes" is not very catchy. Forgive my temporal license. Architectural concepts explored in the first season are rhythm, focal points, and articulation. Also discussed are three architects responsible for inventing Mid Century Modern architecture: Mies van der Rohe, Corbusier, and Frank Lloyd Wright. Each episode is a simple lesson in architecture. It is my hope that everyone who has an interest in architecture will find something of value. In particular, young people starting out in architecture, or simply curious about it, will find this a great introduction to what architecture is or could be. 

Naturally, I invite your comments and suggestions. And please remember to LIKE and SUBSCRIBE!

Architectural Symbolism and the Sacking of the Capitol

In the past I have criticized the architectural merits of the United States Capitol. In playing architectural critic, I cited the bloated nature of the building: numerous additions have resulted in muddy (at best) proportions and a structure that no architect in his right mind would have created from scratch. But I also acknowledge that it is impossible to offer a fair critique of the Capitol architecture because the symbolism of the building overwhelms objective architectural criticism. The Capitol has long symbolized freedom, democracy, homeland, patriotism, truth, justice, and the American way. Architectural values have little relevance next to the abstract power of the Capitol of the United States of America as an icon. Whether on network news or the letterhead of a congress member, the mere outline of the Capitol Dome instantly communicates the high value people have attached to it -- all architectural criticism aside.  

This symbolic nature of the Capitol is only more clear after the 6th of January day of infamy. The sacking of the United States Capitol carries more weight than any run-of-the-mill riot or building defacement. It was an attack on every value that our democracy is. That is why, in the aftermath of the insurrection, shocked politicians and citizens expressed their dismay about the attack using words usually reserved for religious feelings. It was an assault on the "hallowed halls" of democracy. The building is described as "a sacred space" or "a revered sanctuary" or "a shrine of democracy."  None of this, of course, has anything to do with the physical architecture of the place. It has everything to do with the architectural symbolism of the building. 

During the Civil War, President Lincoln was urged by Congress to stop construction work on the new United States Capitol building. War funds were depleting the treasury and many saw the construction project as unnecessary spending in dire times. Lincoln saw things differently. He knew that the American people needed the symbolism of a completed Capitol. Construction continued. Lincoln, of course, was right. He knew what leaders have always known: people need a tangible representation of their most valued beliefs. The Catholic Church understood this in its ascendancy and used mammoth cathedrals to attract and impress the masses. Queen Victoria understood this when she moved her seat of power to Buckingham Palace where it would be visible to all Londoners. The pharaohs certainly understood this when ordering monuments big enough to ensure their influence even after death. Architecture can be a lasting and powerful tool around which to organize ideas and inspire devotion or -- at least -- respect. 

From TV reporting and a flood of video images, the average American now has more architectural understanding of the Capitol than ever before. We have seen how Officer Eugene Goodman, with his knowledge of the Capitol floor plan, deliberately led marauders away from the Senate chamber. Away from Vice President Pence as the mob frothed with "hang Mike Pence, hang Mike Pence..."  We have seen numerous replays of angry white males bursting into the senate chamber, invading private offices, and smashing doors and windows with abandon. All within the gravitas of marble halls, colonnades, and classical details that we recognize as our United States Capitol. 

Is there some other form of architecture that could carry the weight of all this symbolism other than the Classical Revival building that has been bequeathed to us by history? Of course. Had the Capitol been designed in the twentieth century with modernist materials and details we would probably be in thrall by whatever that building looked and felt like. Or, perhaps, some Art Nouveau confection would be our inheritance. Or maybe a late-Gothic, spire-encrusted building like the British Parliament. Whatever it might have been, if it housed our government it would eventually grow into a symbol of our government and a symbol of who we are as a people. A symbol beyond the reach of architectural criticism. But our founding fathers and subsequent leaders decided that the proper receptacle for a democratic government was Greco-Roman architecture because the Greeks invented democracy. So there we have it. That architecture has been established, repeated, and embellished over the years. As a powerful and rich nation we have had the resources to build and maintain the Capitol architecture in top-notch form. What we see today on TV is a legacy from the past that is alive today.

 All buildings have a spirit in some sense. We have warm feelings about home, religious devotion in church, feelings of excitement in an arena. Under the best circumstances, architecture supports and encourages such feelings. That is the purpose of architecture, as opposed to merely encasing these functions in an ordinary building. For any architect fortunate enough to author a major public building, one hopes they are up to the honor. The symbolism they establish with architecture can be long lasting and very serious. And perhaps it would be good to remember that any outrage we may feel about the January 6th sacking of the Capitol, any fondness we may have about the lavish architectural details, and any heartbreak we have about the desecration of that building is not about the physical construct at all. Our outrage is about the defilement of the ideas which that building symbolizes after centuries of standing unmarred by internal political strife. 

The Architecture of Power 2: The White House

If the Capitol building is a symbol of a powerful nation (see previous blog entry), the White House is the symbol of a powerful individual, the President of the United States.

White House stationery.

The White House is interesting as much for what it is not as for what it is. The White House, as signified by name, is not a palace. It is not a castle. It is not even called a mansion. It is a house. (Although it should be noted that early appelations referred to it as the President's Mansion or the President's Palace.) As seats of power go, it is comparatively humble, meant to reflect the idea that our President is a man of the people. He is not a king or sultan or dictator. We do not have, therefore, something like Buckingham Palace with its brutally imposing facade and massive size.  Where palaces of potentates are deliberately intimidating and seemingly impenetrable, the White House is gentle by comparison. The grounds are bucolic and welcoming; most powerful administrative functions are downplayed. It presents a domestic visage. The Oval Office, the epicenter of power, is tucked to the side of the main quarters. Other important functions are shifted to to the executive office building. (An exceedingly ugly and ornate Victorian structure a block away). The core of the White House looks like a white house, not the nexus of national and international activity it certainly is.  Sure, it is a mansion, but a mansion not much different than your local run-of-the-millionaire might inhabit. The leader of the free world lives here, but that fact is cleverly downplayed.

The north facade looks like a two story building. Note how the east and
west wings and third floor are barely visible. 

Earliest known photo of the White House. (South Lawn.)

This self-effacing White House is a deliberate illusion.  The under-played west wing is one device that keeps the main house looking like a "simple" mansion. The third floor above the main house is downplayed as an incidental attic, set back from the outer walls and mostly hidden behind a Palladian balustrade. In reality, it houses full size rooms put to various support purposes.  Major functions are hidden from public view, including extensive basement bunkers and tunnels, and certainly a lot of things to which only the secret service is privy.

The White House structure is much more complex than first meets the eye.  At a glance it appears to be a two-story home.  In reality, the ground plane has been manipulated so the ground floor is hidden from view on the north (front) elevation.  The "first" and "second" floors are raised a full story above natural grade. The apparent attic is essentially a fourth story.  Two levels of basement below the ground floor make this a six story enterprise - half of it hidden or disguised.  Contiguous with the main building, the west and east wings are attached by the ground level and basement, visually diminishing their true importance and extent. It is all very clever.

White House interior during the Truman renovation.

The basic form of the current White House can be attributed to the Truman renovation constructed from 1949 to 1952.  When Truman took office, the White House, without exaggeration, was a wreck. Things were so rotted and shaky that Truman claimed there was imminent danger of his bath tub crashing through the second floor while the Daughters of the American Revolution were having tea in the room below. He would be forced to greet them "wearing nothing more than reading glasses." Indeed, in 1948 a leg of Margaret Truman's piano actually crashed through a second floor sitting room through the ceiling of the dining room below.

The White house had been altered many times to accomodate the tastes and preferences of different administrations. Most notably, perhaps, was the restoration after a major fire during the War of 1812.  But the Truman renovation created the basic shape of the White House we know today. This rebuilding preserved the outside walls of the White House, but not much else.  This extent of rebuilding is quite obvious in period photographs.

Schematic overview of the White House complex. 

Detail plan of the west wing. (Reversed and up side down from the preceding drawing.) 

Like the Capitol building, the White House is an icon of political power. As such, it is almost impossible to judge as architecture. What can we say about the design? It succesfully uses architectural  deceptions to hide its true size. It is an textbook example of neo-classical residential architecture, completely in tune with the architectural fashion the late sixteenth century. The original design was created by architect James Hoban, selected by George Washington in a competition.  (Thomas Jefferson had anonymously submitted a competing design.) In the end, is it good architecture? Maybe. Probably. But that is overshadowed by everything else it represents.

Basic plans of the first and second floors. 

The home of the president of the United States is an awesome presence in Washington D.C.  Perhaps we should be grateful it's impact has been somewhat tempered by design lest any self-centered, duplicitous, megalomaniac president assume more power and authority than is actually allowed the office. One can hope.

This aerial view reveals the attic addition as well as part of the ground level.
There are two additional basement levels. 

Donald Trump and Classy Architecture

A focus group of Donald Trump fans was recently interviewed on MSNBC. One question caught my attention:

Q. How do you envision a Donald Trump presidency?
A. It would be classy. 

Seriously?  Donald Trump is classy?  Regardless of what one may think of Trump's political ideas (or lack of them) the adjective classy doesn't belong in the same sentence as Trump. That's my opinion, but, obviously, to some people Trump does connote class. The conversation reveals a huge rift in agreement on what classy even consists of. 

This isn't a blog about politics, it's about architecture. So my comments come from a specific perspective. The first time I ever saw a Trump building, Trump Tower in New York, the adjective that came to mind wasn't classy. Gauche, perhaps. Or, less kindly (in Trump's world it seems OK to be unkind), cheap, pretentious, megalomanic, delusional....
Trump Tower is like most of Trump's real estate. The color "gold" is slathered over everything, either as brass, anodized aluminum, or gold paint. None of it is really gold. That doesn't matter; pour on enough of the gaudy, shiny stuff and people get the point: this is rich man's territory. There are also plenty of mirrored surfaces, suggesting infinite amounts of wealth. It is a triumph of glitz over style. Strip away the surface decoration and there is very little architecture left and zero originality. The lobby is just a suburban mall turned vertical.

Trump's penthouse apartment in the same building is even worse. It is a shameless display of gaudy decoration, impressive by its opulence, but not by its good design. All the trappings of a rich man are strewn about, but there is no architecture and no sense of style.  It is such a cartoonish interpretation of what a rich man's home should look like, it might as well be the apartment of Thurston Howell III or Scrooge McDuck. That this can be construed as classy is discouraging.

Maybe it's my conservative Lutheran upbringing. My childhood was imbued with the idea that a display of wealth was not polite.  Certainly no one has an exclusive claim on what is good or bad in the world of design. I'm aware that criticizing another person's idea of classy contains its own snobbish arrogance. Who am I to set the standard? Nevertheless, the qualities of good design may be debated, but it should not be a battle of opinions. It should be a debate about principles. I can't see any sturdy design principles behind Donald Trump's self-created potentate trappings. It's not classy.

A Tale of Two Architectures

I recently visited Minnesota at the invitation of Anderson Windows. The Anderson manufacturing and research facility (sixty-five acres under one roof!) is located in Bayport along the St. Croix river. Anderson was a gracious host and I learned a lot about their products. Afterwards I took a few extra days to reacquaint myself with nearby Minneapolis/St. Paul.  It has been over a decade since I've visited the Twin Cities. Changes to the metroplex were significant. Minneapolis and St. Paul may be twins, but they are not identical twins. The architecture of each city is very different and there are lessons to be learned from the differences.

Downtown Minneapolis posing as Houston.

New Minnesota Vikings stadium rising on the southern edge of downtown Minneapolis. 

Minneapolis seems like a combination of at least four cities:  Houston (enormous downtown buildings), Denver (a young and energetic demographic), Seattle (a sense of being on the creative edge), and Milwaukee (residential neighborhoods of wood frame construction).  In this melange Minneapolis has many attractions. An extensive network of designated trails, including a crosstown bike "freeway" with multiple lanes, makes it friendly to cyclists. It has the requisite number of professional sports teams for a major city. It is a center of commerce and industry with a highly qualified workforce. It has a coffee culture, live music, good restaurants. Its greatest asset is, perhaps, the string of lakes that grace the city with greenery, recreational opportunities, and natural beauty. However, if we are to judge the architectural bones of the city by its central business district, Minneapolis has some problems. Decades ago, the city began to mandate a skywalk system that links together all major downtown structures. The IDS center was an early example of this, creating a new sort of town square with shops, offices, and restaurants enclosed in a beautiful modern galleria (dubbed the Crystal Court). Architecturally it was a triumph and it still looks good today. (Phillip Johnson was lead architect in 1967.)  The skywalk system and IDS coincided with another major turn in the city: the creation of the Nicollet mall, converting the main downtown street into a pedestrian-friendly artery. This was part of a nationwide trend intending to attract people to urban centers in response to competing suburban development. This was executed with varying degrees of success in Kalamazoo, Michigan, Denver, Colorado, and even Las Vegas, Nevada on Freemont Street. In Minneapolis the effect was mixed. Businesses abandoned the streets as they moved up a level to the skywalks. Nicollet mall ended up as somewhat of a no-man's land. The whole downtown was turning inward, away from the streets and towards a network of bridges and hallways. The streets were left to street people, in the meanest sense of the phrase. To this day, there is a somewhat unsavory, almost menacing, air to downtown Minneapolis, despite the obvious success of the many climate controlled downtown gallerias that have since joined the IDS Crystal Court. Though these new climate-controlled urban spaces are lively, they are, intentionally or not, hardly inclusive. They repel non-shoppers and non-spenders by subtle design cues and are securely locked after 9 p.m. There are few alternatives, even for window shopping, on the streets. In a way, downtown has been turned into a gated community.

House designed by Purcell & Elmslie in Minneapolis.

The architecture of St. Paul is very different. Kinder and gentler, perhaps. The signs of a vibrant city are there: a renovated Union Station, a thriving farmers market, trendy restaurants, rail connections to the metroplex. At the same time St. Paul has managed to maintain a human scale to its downtown district.  Old buildings are preserved, even as shiny new ones fit between them. Brick facades, sidewalk cafes, and green space add texture. It possesses a friendliness that Minneapolis somehow lacks. It is not difficult to explore the streets of St. Paul. You do not feel you have to enter an air-conditioned mall to experience the city. St. Paul does have skywalks, for the same obvious reason as Minneapolis: the cold winter weather.  But in St. Paul they have not sucked the life out of the ground level. What is the difference?  Obviously, the scale of the two cities has something to do with it. St. Paul is a small town compared to its big brother. But there must be more to it than that. It must have something to do with the texture of the buildings. The architecture is simply softer in St. Paul. The materials, shapes, and scale are user-friendly.  Minneapolis has adopted an almost brutal architecture; facades tend to be featureless, the scale overwhelming. Not so in St. Paul. There are lessons to be learned here about the importance of human scale in architecture and urban planning.

St. Paul's refurbished Union Station.

Mickey's Diner, downtown St. Paul.

Street life in St. Paul.

Architectural texture in St. Paul. 

As a final word, it should be emphasized that two central business districts are being compared here. Outside of the downtown area, Minneapolis is every bit as pleasant as St. Paul, with inviting neighborhoods, parks, and entertainment. However, where the architectural rubber hits the road - downtown - St. Paul offers an easier ride.

All images MJK.

Alien Architecture at Sacsayhuaman

1. Large scale terrace walls at Sacsayhuaman.

Previously we explored the idea of ancient extraterrestrial artifacts at two sites: Palenque, Mexico and Nazca, Peru.

The third interesting site I keep returning to in my mind is Sacsayhuaman, Peru. It is the most remarkable of the sites referred to on the History Channel's Ancient Aliens that I have actually visited. Located at an elevation of 12,000 feet a short distance north of Cuzco, Sacsayhuaman was an Inca fortress. It is now in ruins, plundered, as usual, by the Spanish conquistadores.  Besides killing countless native South Americans, they looted the Inca culture for gold and silver, drove the native religion underground, and decimated their monuments. The conquistadores did a thorough job of plundering Sacsayhuaman, hauling away anything that was movable. What remains is not movable and that is what is remarkable.

2. Juan de Dios, Peruvian guide at Sacsayhuaman. 

Sacsayhuaman provides compelling evidence of technologies beyond the abilities of a culture that didn't even have the benefits of the wheel.*

Consider that the battlement walls of Sacsayhuaman are built of enormous andesite stones found nowhere near the site.  They are believed to originate from several quarries ranging 12 to 46 miles distant.  The largest stones weigh 128 to 200 tons. They were apparently hauled -- somehow -- over severe terrain. Conventional theories on transporting them usually mention a combination of ropes, ramps, and the labor of hundreds or thousands of workers. The details vary, because nobody really knows for sure.

3. Stone work detail.

4. Along the battlements. 

The stones are shaped not into squares or rectangles or any regular geometry, but into puzzle-like pieces with precisely rounded edges. Then - the most astonishing aspect of the whole thing - these misshapen pieces are lifted to great heights and assembled perfectly without mortar.  The results are so precise you can't slip a dollar bill (or a Peruvian Nuevo Sol) between the joints. Or, as Pedro Pizarro (brother of the conqueror Francisco Pizarro) said of Sacsayhuaman, "...the point of a pin could not have been inserted in the joints."

5. Remnants of a portal.

When I encountered Sacsayhuaman my first thought as an architect was, I don't know how I would begin to go about designing this today. How would one do working drawings, even using computers?  How would the masonry contractor react?  You want me to ship these 200 ton stones forty miles? Then carve them into absurd shapes? And set them flawlessly? Buddy; that ain't gonna happen no matter how many ropes you give me!

Even if one would and could draw it, where would an architect find the technology and craftsmanship to build it? The enterprise isn't rational.  It would be much simpler to use regular sized blocks with regular shapes and stack them together like other masonry structures. Using the most sophisticated techniques available to modern man, Sacsayhuaman seems impossible. So how the heck did the Incas ever accomplish such feats?

6. Terraces form the base of Sacsayhuaman. 

7. Rocks above the main terraces were removed by the Spaniards to build
homes and churches in Cuzco.  What remains was too big to move using
technology available to the conquistadores.

Ancient Aliens suggests, of course, that the Inca had help from ancient aliens. Their reasoning rests on the premise that humans couldn't have constructed it (because we didn't possess the skills or technology) therefore a different intelligence must have provided assistance.  The back-up evidence, as in all Ancient Alien episodes, includes other artifacts, carvings, or connections to distant sites that suggest extraterrestrial life forms. It is all conjecture, put forward by "ancient alien theorists" as if that were equivalent to "respected archaeologists."  As stated previously, all of this is frequently debunked on line; the evidence is not as airtight as the TV program would have it.

However, the case for ancient aliens, as evidenced at Sacsayhuaman and numerous other sites, is strong enough to make you wonder about it. For me, Sacsayhuaman is a place of great mystery. I don't understand exactly how or why it was built. I don't buy the explanations of mainstream historians and archaeologists; they seem as facile and contradictory as those offered by "ancient alien theorists." But that doesn't mean I accept the ancient alien hypothesis. The best I can say is I don't know how it was built and I don't think anybody does for sure.

Did extraterrestrials assist in the architecture and construction of Sacsayhuaman?  Maybe they did and maybe they didn't.

8. Terrace walls. 

* The wheel is said to have been unknown to native cultures in pre-Hispanic South America.  However, I saw what appeared to be an ancient wheel in nearby Ollantaytambo.  But that's another story. 

Images:
1. David Galsworthy
2-5. MJK
6-8. Luis Manuel Moll Juan

Architectural Hardscape

A bridge over a freeway.

Architecture never exists in a vacuum. Any work of architecture never truly looks great unless the interior design looks great, the landscape architecture is complementary, and the hardscape (developer speak for all hard surfaces: roads, parking lot, lighting, sidewalks) is well designed.
Above is a picture of hardscape in my neighborhood, a bridge over a freeway. This was designed and built as  a unified structure.  It is part of a big freeway expansion project and is repeated many times over the same freeway.  Presumably some time and effort went into the design of these bridges. Yet, it is not a coherent design. 

Q. What is wrong with is picture? 

A. Nothing goes together. 

Contemporary sidewalk lights. More decorative than functional.

The decorative sidewalk lights are designed to shine upward and reflect light off the curved hood down to the sidewalk. Not a bad contemporary design but the light they provide disappears in the surrounding street lights and freeway glare. These little lights provide precious little light. They should be called darks.  

Traditional street lights. 

Perhaps in recognition of the inefficacy of the pedestrian lights, slightly taller street lights are spaced regularly along the bridge. They provide adequate light for cars and pedestrians, but the traditional design of the taller lights has no relationship to the smaller contemporary lights. It is as if the two came from different centuries - the nineteenth and the twenty-first   No one bothered to coordinate the spacing of the tall lights to the smaller ones.  Sometimes they are close together, sometimes far apart. (Nice team effort there.) Furthermore, neither the tall lights nor the short lights have any design relationship to the street lighting in the neighborhoods on either side of the bridge or the more functional freeway lighting elsewhere. Any contextual reference is nonexistent. Doesn't anyone bother to consider these things?
  
What's wrong with this picture?  

A melange of hardscape design features. 

Photos: MJK