building does not express its meaning in the same way as a picture or a sculpture, because it is by nature much more complex. It demands a prior effort of analysis. In the first place, we never see a building in its totality: we can never obtain more than partial views both of the exterior and interior, with the result that we are always obliged to relate what we can see to what we cannot see to form a clear picture of the whole. It is impossible simply to indulge the pleasure of the eye: one has to think as well as look. To help us in this intellectual exercise we have an important tool to hand, the plan, which informs us simultaneously about exterior and interior, the whole and the part. Together with thecross section, which reveals the structure, it gives in abstract form a composite image of the building which photographs in whatever number—could never give. It is therefore necessary, before anything else, to learn to read a plan and to familiarize oneself in a general way with the various means of graphic expression used in architecture (cross section, elevation, axonometric plan).
The transformations to which buildings are subject constitute a second difficulty. Very often we can no longer see today what the builders would have wished: projects are abandoned or modified before completion; parts that were complete are demolished; others, added later, are of a different character. Time, it is true, alters all works of art, but its effect on architecture is more noticeable because the construction of a major building takes a long time, and because buildings—always intended for use—must be adapted to the changing needs of men. We should not, therefore, look at a building completed and still more or less intact, such as Salisbury Cathedral, in the same way as we regard an incomplete chateau, such as Brissac, or a building that has been continuously altered, such as Versailles. In the first unusual case, we are immediately in a position to appreciate the work of the builders;in the second, we have to imagine what was intended;and in the third case, we have to discover the successive stages of building to interpret correctly what we see, and not attribute to the intention of a single architect what win the product of several building campaigns.
Finally, it should never be forgotten that even the most magnificent buildings were never intended simply as works of art, and that they are incomprehensible if one is unaware of their purposes, whether utilitarian or symbolic. The particular forms of religious buildings, houses and palaces, are always a reflection of the demands of religious cult, of everyday life, or of the exercise of power in any given society. Less independent than other artists, the architect exercises his powers of invention within a framework strictly defined by the society to which he belongs and the individuals to whom be owed each commission. Such constraints, compelling to a degree dependent on the particular age and social level (the Greek temple, the urban dwelling, are highly standardized types), impose limits on invention, but also confer on architecture an important social significance: buildings are a unique embodiment, the most durable, the most manifest—of the needs and dreams of man.
Lesson OneWe take an interest in a building to the degree to which we see in it “effects” of volume, space, rhythm and color that please us. In certain cases—an urban dwelling or rural architecture, for example—these effects are very simple and result above all from harmony between a building and its environments. In other cases—the most interesting—these effects are extremely complex and can be attributed to one or more creative individuals who have deliberately contrived them. Between these two extremes—architecture without architects and the architecture of great masters—there are numerous degrees, but it would be pointless to distinguish them. It is more worthwhile to identify the various means of expression available to architecture: only in this way can we enrich our perception of the buildings we encounter.
This perception should not be equated with aesthetic appreciation, but it is a necessary precondition. Without it, spontaneous judgments which appear to be expressions of personal opinions do no more than repeat preconceived ideas—on the “bareness” of the Romanesque, the “excesses” of the Baroque, the “frigidity” of classical churches. Thus we could not recommend to the reader too strongly to forget such prejudices and to look with a fresh eye and open mind in order to appreciate the objectives peculiar to each style.
All these observations lead to the same conclusion: a work of architecture is too complex to be understood at first glance: one has simultaneously to be aware of all its elements, to imagine its successive states (including those that were never completed), and to know what it signified to those who built it. This initial analysis must precede aesthetic appreciation. It enables one to form a clear picture of the building and to differentiate between what is due to constraints (structural necessity, existing buildings, stylistic conventions, demands of the client), and what is the product of purely artistic creation, the play of forms.
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