From: churayj@yalevm.edu (raymond Chung)
Subject: Re: On meaning and Ornament (
Followup-To: alt.architecture
Organization: Yale University, junior in architecture, bored
Date: Sat, 7 Nov 1992 02:14:12 GMT

jmc@huron.eel.ufl.edu (Jim Callahan) wrote:
> 
> I think our society, meaning world community, is capable of enjoying and appreciating architecture without the masking adornment of sybolic languages. The creation of form should be a honest expression and distillation of the body of ideas within the many contraints of a project.  Economic forces are a important contraint but NOT a motivating idea.  


It's good to see that Lou Kahn is alive and well!
This is something I'm bound to say more than once, but I feel that symbolic
languages do not necessarily mask the structural and functional aspects of
architecture.  Take a quick look at any of Sullivan's proto-skycrapers
(Guaranty Building, Wainwright Building, etc.), and it's clear how ornament
can co-exist with your idea of architectural form.  Ornament has the
ability of embellishing the art of building while also adding a layer of
meaning.  It's a process architecture has enjoyed all the way up until this
century.  I say this with some sympathy; I used to design like you, with
spatial and structural details taking over the place of ornament.  But then
I started reading theories of ornament and earnestly looking at photos of
great architectural achievements, and it hit me, that there is a place for
ornament in modern building.  I think what converted me was the sudden
revelation that ornament is more than mere decoration.  True eloquent
ornamental systems are integrated with the structure of buildings,
resulting in a transformation of both the image (the ornament) and the
building.  Think of a sculpture of an angel placed at the end of a vertical
support in the nave of a church.  The result is not merely a church plus
the image of an angel; a transformation has taken place, relating the two
inseparably.  The angel, to use Sullivan's words, "grows" from the material
of the building, and we can perceive the message of a holy building.  After
that, you'd be upset to see the angel go.


> The relevance of "universally shared" symbols are decreased by thier popularity.  How could such a body of motifs serve as true creative expression when its users pick and choose among generic forms which have evolved independent of a specific situation or intellect.


Referring to what you were referring to (the proposition of universally
shared symbols), I think there are certain symbols and forms that are
already universally shared AND understood.  Across the world and without
any regard to history, cultures have developed ornamental systems which
commonly make use of the spiral, the wave, and the flower, among others. 
They each speak of energy, related to growth or movement, and they each can
be understood internally, without relation to the community.  It may take
some time before our society can begin to think in terms of "the energy
inherent in a form," or it may never happen, but IF we're going to suggest
a universal lexicon of form and symbol, I say that it will be composed of
these already discovered motifs.  (Unfortunately our schools have abandoned
the practice of teaching ornament, so even we architects generally don't
know about the hundreds of years of investigation in this subject.)  So
into this lexicon, local and specific images can be 
merged to create an ornament meaningful to a community, and not generically
global.  Think of universal motifs as verbs and adjectives, the images as
nouns.  Incidentally, I suggest that from now on any discussion of "symbol"
be limited to representations of real-world things (the flower), while
"form" be used for abstract shapes (the wave or the spiral).  It's a
distinction made long ago by Henri Focilon, and I think it will help us get
a hold on what ornament is made of.


> I think there is a great deal we can learn from nature but I am wary about this idea of ornament.  An examination of natural forms, especially in plants, reveals that nature is very thrifty with material and rarely (except in the case of reproduction -- flowers, etc..) wastes resources or energy with unnecessary adornment.  If the structural and spatial defining elements of a building are formed creatively and honestly, there is no longer a need to apply symbols and additional materials in an effort [tex


t was lost] a "face" on (no longer) stark surfaces.


Yes, there is no need to do anything but build an efficient structure, but
then how can you justify even a little variation or elaboration, which you
imply by "(no longer) stark surfaces"?  The idea that buildings can be
formed creatively and honestly is valid, and I agree that such buildings
(Kahn's, Corbusier's) are beautiful in their way.  But if you admit that
architecture is an art (see previous thread), you ultimately must *accept*
the use of ornament, for it not only can speak, but it can speak with
emotion, something structural details cannot do (unless you believe that
people can see by a carefully constructed joint that the architect thought
long and hard about it, and so they appreciate the joint for the amount of
work involved.  Still, in this case, the range of emotions is limited.)

Finally, the idea that resources and energy could be wasted by the
fabrication of ornament is ludicrous, quite frankly.  Where would you stop
in your definition of "waste"?  In what way does architecture step outside
the realm of fine art?  (This is a trap, of course, more appropriately
placed in the previous thread about the distinction between art and
architecture.)


                                 ? = ! > .

                                                   r a y m o n d  C h u n g

A note about our "addiction to exotic woods":  There's a group of
woodworkers here in the US, maybe internationally as well, that arranges
the purchase of certain superexotic woods in an effort to save the exotic
ones.  I don't know if people are aware of this, but the problem is not
that forests of complete mahogany are being razed, but that woods like
mahogany grow in small, contained clusters within a forest of many
different species.  The natives who cut down the mahogany can't get to
those trees unless they take down all the inbetween trees, so they simply
burn a path straight to the mahogany cluster.  This woodworker's group has
identified those inbetween trees, and they try to encourage the use of
these woods, which are perfectly workable in many respects, so that the
natives stop burning paths and start arranging a profitable cutting
schedule that preserves the forests.  Not to blame natives, of course;
they're only taking the money we give them and acting for their profit.
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