Intentions in Architecture Christian Norberg-Schulz

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Contents
Preface
1. Introduction
II. Background
1. Perceprion
2. Symbolization
III. Theory
1. Towards an integrated theory of architecture.
2. The building task
3. Form
4. Technics
5. Semant ics
6. The architectural totality
IV. Outlook .
1. Experience
2 . Production
3. Analysis
4. Education
Bibliography
Index
Ill ustrations
7
II
53
' 95
201
225
233
243
Preface
The present study has grown out of the concrete problems an architect
encounters in his profession. We do not, in the first place. think of the
technical difficulties which have to be surmounted in connection with
any building task, but we rather have in mind the problem of defining
the task, and of deciding whether a planned or completed solution is
satisfactory. In both cases we have to take into consideration ' practical '
and "artistic ' needs which concern the architect as well as society and
the individual client . Today we lack a real basis for this procedure, and
the result is a rather discouraging' debate' where the parties talk at cross
purposes without arri ving at fruitful , mutually helpful approaches to the
problem. In other words, we lack a satisfactory theory of architecture.
Under the continual pressure of new demands, most professions have in
our time had to develop comprehensive theoretical' tools' . Our architectu-
ral solutions, however, are still the result of more or less accidental
improvisations. The architects have shown themselves rather unwilling
to work out a theoretical basis for their field, mostly because of the pre-
judice that theory kills the creative facult y. In the present study an
attempt will be made to prove that this view is erroneous.
While our practical problems have to a certain degree been analyzed,
architecture also comprises important' environmental ' problems which so
far have by no means been adequately investigated. Therefore, I originally
assigned myself the task of discussi ng' the psychological background of
architecture '. During this work, however, it became clear that this aspect
cannot be separated from the practical side of the matter, and that archi-
tecture both as a problem and as ready solutions, must be considered as
a whole, of which the individual parts are mutually interdependent. The
present study has therefore developed into an attempt to present an ordered
survey of all the ' dimensions ' which may be imagined to enter a work
7
of architecture. It aims at general validity. and any architectural solution
may be understood as a special case which is covered by the theory. In
other words, I attempt to bring order into that complex of ends and means
which the concept ' architecture ' comprises. The study therefore gives the
outlines of a conceptual scheme which may be used to analyze building
tasks as well as finished works; and I address myself both to the practising
architect and to the architectural historian. It must be stressed that the
purpose is not to solve the problems. The stud)' is neither a ' textbook '
of architecture, nor an historical survey. The intention is only to organize
the subject-matter in order to arrive at a common basis for collaboration
in solving the problems. The study, therefore. is theoretical in the real
sense of the word. The theory should open our eyes' to the richness of
the possibilities, rather than support ready-made rules and cliches.
To enable us to see the connections between the theory and our con-
crete empirical problems, the study opens with a short account of the
present architectural situation, and concludes with an ' outlook ' on the
pcwible applications of the theory. These parts of the study (I and IV)
pretend neither to be exhaustive, nor to 'explain' the actual situation.
They only have the purpose of giving the study a wider frame of reference.
Only in part III, the theory proper, have I attempted to carry through
a comprehensive presentation. Because of the vastness of the problem, it
naturally remains a 'skeleton ' which should be completed through future,
more detailed research. Part II results from the necessity of applying
scientific methods, and of basing the architectural theory on information
from other fields. Hence, methodological, psychological, sociological and
semiotical information is presented, which in my opinion should belong
to the general educational background of any architect or architectural
historian. It was found convenient to separate these topics from the theory
proper, in order to make the latter more lucid. All comments and quota-
tions are collected in notes. These have become rather numerous, but
only in this way could the main text be given a coherent and clear form.
The theory is derived from my knowledge of architecture, that is,
from a limited knowledge of a limited number of examples. The theory
therefore has to be tried out and refined through application in the largest
possible number of concrete cases. This 'successive approximation' is
8
necessary if a satisfactory theoretical tool is to be found. I believe I have
established a point of departure, and given the opportunity I shall continue
the research through extensive investigations of ancient and contemporary
architecture.
I wish to express my thanks to The Norwegian Research Council for
Science and the Humanities for a two-year travelling fellowship, which
made it possible to collect the historical material which gives substance
to the study. The work would hardly have been possible without the
inspiration I received as a pupil of S. Giedion at the Eidgenossische
Technische Hochschule in Zurich. The idea of seeing architecture as a
general cultural phenomenon has been born through innumerable discus-
sions with Dipl. Ar ch. E. Neuenschwander (Zurich) , Professor A. Korsmo
(Trondheim), Professor A. Dorner (ex-Bennington College), H. MjcIva
(Oslo), S. Fehn (Oslo), Professor B. L. Mohr (Tro ndheim), H. Ryvarden
(Trondheim), and Dr. A. Brenna (Oslo). Special thanks go to Professor
H. P. L' Or ange (Rome), Professor Mies van der Rohc (Chicago), Professor
Ph. Frank (Cambridge, Mass.), Professor T. Parsons (Cambridge, Mass.),
Professor T. Maldonado (Ulm), and above all to O. Skardal (Oslo), who
made the author understand the fruitfulness of the psychological and
sociological approach to art and architecture. Thanks are also due to the
authors of those wr itings which have been of special importance to the
study, above all E. Brunswik, C. Morris, G. Paulsson, H. Sedlmayr, R.
Wittkower, D. Frey, L. Mumford, J. Piaget, J. Jorgensen, M. Wertheimer,
and L. Wittgenstein. The study is furthermore based on my experience
as a teacher and lecturer at The State School of Arts and Crafts (Oslo),
Hochschule fur Gestaltung (U1m), The University of Oslo, The Technical
University of Norway (Trondhcim), and as a Smith-Mundt-Fulbright
scholar at Harvard University (Cambridge. Mass.).
Rome, December I I
1. Introduction
------------------
The present situation of architecture is confused and puzzling. From th,
client we hear constant complaints about the architects' lack of ability
[ 0 satisfy him, from a practical as well as from an aesthetical and econo-
mical point of view. I The authorities give us to understand that it is
often doubtful whether the architects qualified to solve the problems
which society poses. 2 And the architects themselves disagree on issues so
fundamental that their discussion must be interpreted as an expression
of groping uncertainty. The disagreement does not only concern the
so-called aesthetic' problems, but also the fundamental questions of how
man should live and work in buildings and cities. l It is also characteristic
that architectural education has been under revision for a long time. New
didactical principles are wanted. but the ends and means are in dispute.
4
All these symptoms unite to indicate a confusion in our environment
which we do not agree about how to unravel. The unified character we
know from the cities and architectural lay-outs of the past is becoming 1
a dying memory.
5
The result of this situation is that the architect is hardly accorded the
same recognition as other specialists with an equally high education.
Many look upon him as a necessary evil' , with the sole task of trimming
the ideas of the client. And in writing and speech he is pointed out as
responsible for the inconveniences and monotonous confusion of our
present-day environment. Many architects, on the other hand, pay scanty
respect to the taste and wishes of the client, and maintain that he has
to be ' educated' . 6
The situation is very unfortunate. The absence of mutual confidence
between the parties and the lack of opportunity to co-operate on a common
basis will of course: reduce the chances that new buildings and lay-outs
13
I Stt the introducricn to S. Giedi on: A Dff'-
tldc 0/ NCIII Arrhitmuu Ziilich
195
2 In f inl:lnd . thi . ..sput of the
l.iru..tion i. very positi...,. Stt E. 6: C. Neu-
enschwander: Fi,,,, i,rhc & uu " / Atdie-
Alt'/lr Atllto '950-5' . ZUrich 1954. pp. 5 if.
l The ideas brought fonh by the
architects of the modern movement have
cTuted strong ronlroy=ics. To adYOCate their
views more efficiently. the ID(xk rn architects
founded the Ccngres Inter n:u:io""w: d' Archi.
tecture Moder nc (Cl AM) in 1<pS. See S. Gie.
dton: Inu-oduction to J. L. Serr: CtI" Our
Cilia SlU'tin? Cm!bridge 19+4.
4 The discuss ion of architectural educatio n
was init iated by W..lter Gr opius in Uu und
Au/hau dn & uhtlusn Wnm41'.
Munchen 1923.
5 The ch:IDS of our modem envi ronment u
beilliamlj anal yzed in Scrr: op. cit. See also :
L. Mumf ord : Thc Culturc 0/ Cit in . New
Yor k 1938.
6 . ... the public .till think s in terms of
conventional appearance. and reason on thc
fouD<l<Itions of an inmfficicnt educaricn ".
I.e Corbu.ier : Towaras a Art hitutllu .
London l y27. p- 21.
may fulfil their purposes in a satisfactory way. For the architects them-
selves it is depressing to have to work without any objective criticism
and self-criticism. Let us consider the single points in more detail.
THE CLIENT
When the client criticises, words like 'unpractical ', ' ugly' , and ' expen-
sive' are frequent.
The practical or functional criticism is due to a lack of correspondence
between the current way of life and the existing ' architectural frame' .
Thi s lack of correspondence may of course stem from shortcomings in
the architectural frame, inasmuch as it does not allow certain functions
to be carried out. But it also often happens that man prefers an anti-
quated ' way of life, although he thereby comes into conflict with the
environment and misses new values.
1
And we know that particular envi-
ronmental needs may induce man to accept highly 'unpractical' living
conditions. This suggests that the architect should not as a matter of
course satisfy the functional or environmental wishes of the client.
The aesthetic criticism is also directed against deviations from the
habitual. Without further justifications most new solutions are deprecated
and labelled as architects' fancies. Or the critics go to the other extreme
and talk about ' greyness' and ' monotony' . 9 The layman thus asks for
an architecture which is at the same time ' normal' and unusual. In any
case he surely does not find satisfaction in the so-called modern archi-
tecture'. But at the same time it is rather obscure what he sus in the
beloved architecture of the past. 10 His point of view hardly coincides with
that of the art historian, but shows itself on closer scrutiny to be based
upon a few characteristic attributes with which he associates particular
meanings. II These meanings will generally appear superficial and primitive
to the architect, and it is a fact that both architects and artists react against
following the ' ruling taste' . 12 The problem, however , is not made more
simple by saying that the aesthetic criticism of the client is due to prejudices.
The economical criticism is connected with what gets for one' s
money. We are willing to pay more if we obtain satisfaction of our
subjective environmental needs. I.l The economical conditions, therefore,
' 4
'7 The planner who wants to improve the
d.....dlings of pnson5 who ha,t gIo.....n up
und er vtr y pli miti'"t condit ions often encoun-
Ins tht difficulty that they do not want to
live ' ocr' t I (diffn cntly) than they are us.W
to. In e. 18.000 of tht 30,000 inha
bita ms lived in caves in To improve
the conditio ns modern .....t re buill
lIta rby. The cave-dwellers, fell
Inndy and dtprlval of tht ir social relations
in tht ntW "Preferisec 13 mia
grcrea, il min vitinato' , was the standing
uprts<inn. see G. Viaggio in lrali...
1957, p. 578. .
a In l'orway it W 3$ common within certain
.o.;i3\ groups to r=Vt ont of the rooms of
tht lI.:n 3$ .. duwing-room. t un if this com-
petted :;",d children to sleep wgcthcr.
S O. Brochm:tnn: og hoIiger,
Oslo 1'}4 8 .
9 Both criticisms often jU5ufiai. but the
di... of the public :>1"" usually rtfe"
to solutions whio:h the al'<:hitocts find posithe.
10 The aumor once showed a group of
Romans .. s1idt of mt doisttr of s. Onofrio
in Romt . ahhougb they hsd all visited rhe
place. they Wa"C un..b1t to t cll what the slKk
rt prtu:ntal. One person who had nprcs.'ro
d t ar opinions about :an and architectwe,
.uggested that Wt were looking at a photo.
graph of the cloister of S. P:>o10 fuori It mura.
II It is common that work, of ar l arc cv ..
luated ..o:<:aIding to Iht rr size and the prt-
ti oumcss of mt materials t mplo}n1. See E.
Brunlwik : Wahrnehmung und Gegenl tanJr-
well. Witn 1934.
12 see S. GiNlion: ' Ud x:r den htrr ><: hclIdcn
Geo<;bmaek ' , ill Architekl ur und Gemein-
Ichall , Hamburg 1956, pp. 12 fr.
B Tht publk success of housing-
developments is ctrtainly not only due to the
ecOllomical factor, but also to the fact that
most speculative builders aim at satisfyillg
tht ' ruling ta,t t '.
are relative, rather than absol ute (within certain limits). Thus even economy
does not give us any clear directions how to build. And in most cases we
can also choose between many different solutions which cost the same.
Although the client' s criticism of the architects and their products is
imprecise and subjective, we should not call it irrelevant. It has sprung
from concrete situations, and shows better than any other symptom that
our present-day architecture does not participate naturall y in a unified and
ordered environment. But we may assert that the criticism in most cases
has a certain narrowness of view. Generally the client will criticise on
the basis of his personal needs without recognizing that his project in
many ways forms a part of a larger whole. He is therefore not conscious
of and amenable to the new possibilities the architect can offer him,
possibilities which may only become manifest after a long period of getting
accustomed to the finished product. Man has a conservative character, 14
and we experience today a 'communication-gap' between the larger part
of the public and those architects who go, if only very slightly, beyond
me most conventional solutions. At the same time it is a fact that an
ever-increasing number of architects are forced to find new solutions on
technical and economical grounds. 15
The relationship between the client and the architect will of course
differ from place to place, and depends upon the role-distribution within
me society concerned. Generally, however, we may assume that the architect
should not only fulfil the needs of which the individual client is conscious.
THE SOCIETY
The cnncrsm of the society or of the authorities differs from that of
the client , alt hough it is also offered by individuals. The authorities may
co a certain degree free themselves from purd y personal interests, mainly
by pointing out a lacking fulfilment of common needs, such as ' an inadc-
quate number of dwellings'. The authorities can, for instance, give their
opinion on solutions they do not know from direct experience, but which
they recognize as unsuccessful on the grounds of practical and economical
information. Their criticism is therefore more objective, as it takes into
consideration factors concerning many individuals with different attit udes,
15
14 He alway. hal to integrate new
ences in a 'Y'lern nf previou.
What i. completely new, remain. inacceible.
15 During early industrialization i ll the
nineteenth century, form. were
made with new technical means. Factory-
made ornaments became a standard article.
Later , reehnical and economical factors haYe
helped the development of forms which better
fil the indmtri2liuxl means of produetion.
See S. Giedion: M !ulnization Takes Com-
manJ. New York 1948.
and as it aims at common measures. \ Ve should remember, however, that
this criticism necessarily reflects prevailing political and economic theories,
and therefore also particular interpretations (conscious or unconscious) of
what suits society better. 16 The subjective environmental needs of the
public may also influence these theories in such a way that the common
measures reveal themselves through a closer scrutiny as a mere satisfaction
of habitual wishes. 17 Thc authorities thus rarely realize that common
needs frequently have to be satisfied in unconventional ways in order to
make the solution effective.
We often hear that present-day society is chaotic, and that this fact
must lead to architectural disorder. The argument is superficial. Any
society necessarily has a particular structure ' which should find a
correspondi ng physical frame. Its chaotic aspects are often due to the
lack of thi s correspondence. IA
In general we may say that society makes demands which transcend
the understanding and wishes of the individual; but these demands are
usually badly formulated and not distinguished from the ruling taste'.
This also holds true for those building tasks where society confronts the
architect with' aesthetic' and environmental problems. 19
T HE ARCHITECTS
It is no excuse for the architect that the client and the society confront
him with imprecise and one-sided problems, because it is one of his main
tasks to [ormulate the problems on the basis of the various and often
contradictory needs which are brought forth. Very few present-day archi-
tects have a secure grip on this task. Most of them dispute the functional
problems because they disagree on what is a desirable way of life, or
because they fail to understand how a ' way of life ' may be formul ated
or transh ted
1
into fn.me..
20
We all know that buildings and architectural Jay-outs serve practical
purposes, and we may recognize that much has been done to satisfy
different interpretations of these ' functional' needs. It is natural that this
aspect came to the fore under the pressure of the modern idea of efficiency.
The functionalism of the 'twenties and ' thirties took this as its point of
16
16 It i. all diocuueO whemer the fr:
expression of the aid. t he fello"...hip.
17 ' My home is my castle' is an important
trad itional sentiment in man y count ries. The
inhabitants of the large cuies therefore . pre:l.d
in extensive suburbs with relat ively small
houses, Dot minding the ptKtiatl difficulties
created.
18 In other words, it is p"uib/" to
define socially determined building tasks
which should be t ranslated' into architectural
solutions,
19 Sec $. Giedion: ' Die ncue
talitit ' , in Arr"iul(ru, m,d Gcmci,"chajl.
pp. J7 fl.
20 Industrialization and tbe social changes
expressed by the French revolution created a
large number of new building taskl . The
cities started to grow at a previously unknown
speed. new impcetant centres ,,"crc born, and
Ihe dcmogr apbical p.1. tletm changed. The
architect>. trained in the design of churches
and palaces, were unable to plan for tbe
rnaSiCS oE indum ial societ y, and lost contact
with large parts of building activit}".
departure, and gave us the first systematic attempt at an examination of
the actual building tasks. Its investigations usually aimed at finding the
. correct ' minimum measures (sizes), on the assumption that architecture
above all means efficiency and economy. ZI
As time passed, however, many architects recognized that the 'classical'
functionalism was based upon too narrow a definition of the building task.
They understood that it is not to adopt the most economical
solution, and lately another problem has come steadily to the fore. It has
presented itself in many different ways, but in general we may say that
interest has begun to grow in the milieu-creating function of architecture.
Environment influences human beings, and this implies that the purpose
of architecture transcends the definition given by early functionalism. zz
Fer the present, however. we know very little about how this influence
works, and the new point of view is therefore subject to disagreement
.cid misunderstanding.
2J
The question whether we need a new ' monumentalit y' has also been
considered. Through giving a visual expression to the constitutive ideas
: : a community or to the social structure, architecture becomes symbolic
: : monumental ' . 24 In other words, one tries to make manifest a common
oasis which may counteract the lonelincs of modern man and the separa-
con of the artist from the public." The misunderstandings created by
-ais problem arc closely related to the confusion within the 'aesthetic '
.iimension of architecture. The styles and formal ideals of the past have
ceen exposed to increasingly strong attacks, on the grounds that new
-r oblems demand fundamentally new solutions. Schinkel, deeply impressed
the new industrial buildings he saw in England in 1826, exclaimed:
. Should We not try to find our own style?' 26 Afterwards, however, he
went on building both in the neo-classical and the Gothic styles. 27 The
;:yle had become a ' mask ' covering the real structure of the edifice. 28
Juring the great epochs of the past certain forms had always been reserved
for certain tasks, Th e classical orders were used with caution outside
churches and palaces, and the dome, for instance, had a very particular
function as a symbol of heaven. 29 In the nineteenth century these forms
";\'ere transferred to completely new types of buildings, and a ' devaluation'
of the forms resulted. 30 The reaction against this 'confusion of styles'
'7
2
99
21 It wafunct ional ' to solve a task like
Wolinung fiir dar ExIJlenzminimum.
t ide to a ClAM-publicatio n, Sum-
g:ll"t 19.30)' Neuferr's BlJucnlwurfslclirc is a
cha racteristic product of me period.
22 The new attilUdc ....:to programmatically
at the confercnce ' The Social na. is
of Design ' , hd d at Princeton Uni versit y in
1947. Stt T. CrdghlOn; B"ildi"g Jor Modern
M"n, Prineeton ' 949.
23 It i . asserted rhae 1'CT)' large apartme nt-
huildi ng> have ;I harmful effcci on the inhab-
itants. Solutions like: the: Unitt! d'Hllbitlltion
of I.e Corbusier in h;lve: been
c:xposal to violent eriticism. We do DOT.
hownn". know .m ytbing ;l1>out such
dfC'l:ts ' , and nced pSj'c:bologieil and wt io-
logical in vc:sl:igations.
Giedion: Mo"" menuJ itiit.
2S Rom;lnt ic art ;lnd later nprn,ioni.m
impressionism abo..e :ill expressed t he J'C'rson
ality of the: artist . Thi s impliro. the: emanc ipa.
tion, but ;1110 the ""laoon of the indi..J.dual.
See A. Oof"ner, The Way bryoni ' Art ' , Sew
York '947.
:!6 wililatn" discuss the concept of style.
21 See H. Bc:cnken: Ba"iJun
dn deutrchcn Rhmant;k, Main>: 1'JSl.
111 H. Sedlma jr . Vcr/ust i n .\I;t lc, Salz
burg 19'fS, p.
K. Lehmann : ' Tfic Dome of Heaven ' ,
.4rt Bull. Vol. XXVlI .
j() See S. Gledion : ' :"bpolc:on and the Dc-
nluation of Symbols ' , Review ,
No. II , As man Napclecn
was typical of {he centur y. He had
to show hi. ' good taste " by imi{31ing the
accepted culture of the pan, thus g3ining a
'humanist ic alihi ' .
happened in two different ways. In some places an attempt was made to
establish a new contact with the past, in the belief that this would bring
architecture closer to life. 31 Elsewhere. what is fundamentally new in
the problems of our day was stressed, all kinds of historicism was eschewed,
and neue Sachlichkeit propagated instead.
32
Thi s movement found its
inspiration in abstract art, and in the possibilities offered by new building
materials, such as iron. concrete. and glass.
33
Little by little new charac-
teristic forms developed, displacing the devaluated cliches of historicism.
But the public remained without understanding of this radical new orien-
tation, which also created a split among the architects themselves.
Since the second world war, architecture has obviously entered a new
phase. Instead of seeing historicism as an alternative, many want to make
modern architecture ' human' by ' softening' or ' enriching' itsnakedelemen-
tary forms. The enrichment , so far, has mostly had the character of fancies,
degenerating into an ever more forced play with strange forms and effects. 34
We are here faced with basic problems which involve a revision of the
aesthetic di mension of architecture. How can architecture again become
a sensitive medium, able to register relevant variations in the building
tasks, and at the same time maintain a certain visual order? A new aesthetic
orientation transcending the arbitrary play with forms is surely needed,
although it is not elaimed that the result should resemble the styles of
the past. Undoubtedly we need a formal differentiation of the buildings
corresponding to the functional differences of the building tasks. 35 But so
far we have not found anyanswer to the question whether the differentiation
should also acquir e a symbolizing aspect by the assignment of particular
forms to particular functions with the purpose of ' representing' a cultural
structure. So far modern architecture has had the character of a ' belief ' ,
rather than a worked-out method based upon a d ear analysis of functional,
sociological, and cultural problems.
The lack of agreement among the architects has deprived architectural
education of its stability. It has undergone transformations which correspond
to the phases of the aesthetic ' debate' . 36 After the teaching of styles in
the academies came the Bauhaus, and a complete break with all historicism.
The history of art and architecture was dropped from the curriculum.
Instead, a free experimenting with materials and forms was introduced :
18
3
j l In Scandi navia thi, tendency dominated
around the turn of the century. Th e national
architecture. however, hardl y archi",cd any-
thing but a , uperlicia.l. borrowing of motives ,
and therefore did not contr ibute 10 the $0-
lution of actual tasks, Sec T. Pauluon, Saz'lldi.
'114";4 '11 ArcMteet..u , London 1958, p. 18a.
1! See P. John son, Mia ". '11 der Rolle.
New York 19-\7, p. 186.
II See S. Giedion : Sptue. Time ."d ATt M-
tture, Cambridge 19"16, pp. 126 If .
34 Thi, tendency 'IanM in Sweden. show-
ing il>el! already in the Ian works of .'"pl und.
Recently it bas ~ n especially pronounced
in IUl ly.
3 ~ We will bt...r d i,cu, s the concept of order
and it, relation to art iculation and variation.
So far, we will only assert that it is a mis-
understanding to regard order and variation
a, antagonists.
36 See part IV, ch. 4 of the present mllly.
everything should be invented anew. 37 The purpose was not to create a
new style, but to establish a free' approach to the tasks. It was said that
this implied a new contact with reality. 38 Today we may say that the
Bauhaus initiated a cleaning process which freed us from the blind copying
of obsolete forms. But we also realize that the Bauhaus method ought to
be supplemented and developed on the basis of a better understanding of
psychological and sociological factors.
39
Education in this field should
above all be founded upon an understanding of the nature of the archi-
tectural totality, and it may be doubted if the free experiments and
artistic' activities of the Bauhaus will retain their importance in future.
It is also interesting to notice that generally the history of art and archi-
tecture has again been introduced into the curriculum, not for the purpose
of copying, but because it seems somewhat imprudent to throw the
experiences of several thousand years overboard. il)
These reflections show us that the debate among the architects is related
to and yet differs from the criticisms of the client and the authorities. The
architects often react too, of course, because of habits and prejudices, and
may wit h more or less justification accuse each other of building ' ugly'
or unpractical ' houses. But they also discuss problems on a higher level,
at which the layman would hardl y be able to participate. The public does
not easily understand that issues such as the relations between technics
and form, or form and function, really are important . As long as the
house looks like a beloved prototype and does not cost too much, the
problem of the layman is solved. Any closer scrutiny of the ideas of the
last hundred years, however, shows that the new architecture is not a
result of the wish for rArt pour t'Art, but has sprung from the strivings
of idealistic individuals to make man's environment better;" Hence the
architects seem to believe that the satisfaction obtained when fulfilling the
wishes of the individual is only apparent .
Another reason for the existing difficulties in bridging the gaps between
the architect and the layman and between the architects themselves, is the
lack of a precise terminology. Our confused debate on architectural matters
is a demonstration of imprecise use of language and meaningless formu-
lations. 42 This loose terminology adds to the disorder, and makes sound
discussion difficult even among the architects themselves.
' 9
31 ' Wir
auf die Erfahrung . W. Gropius:
"Dies ist rneine in DN' Ardiuk'.
No. 12, 1958.
3a Sec Gropius: Fraokfurt /M
1955. pp. 15 s.
39 The didactical philosophy presented by
GropilU in Archiu't' ur employs a im-
preeisc: terminology and is upon frag.
mentary or obsolete infor m.:nion from the
sciencn. Sec pp. 26 ff.
il) TIl " Importance of architectural hi.tory
hu been streosnl by Bruno Zevi, but we an:
still far from a ... tidaetory teaching of th e
.ubje:et.
41 Espn:ially known is contribution of
Le Corbusier. I.e Corburicc: UI n"ulO"
dn hommn . Paris ' 9+"
42 Above .all we have in mind the use of
the word space. ' , which is c:rnploya:l without
making clear if one refers to a phy.ie.a1 or a
psyehological or peebaps to some un-
ddill<lble entity.
THE SITUATION
In spite of all the confusion there st ems to be one point of agreement:
the situation is impossible. Who would defend the chaos of the modern
metropolis, destruction of the landscape through characterless building,
or the split in conflicting opinions on basic architectural problems? But
the disagreement becomes deep and fundamental as soon as we question
whether the ' modern ' movement in architecture and planning really
shows the way out of our muddle. On the one hand, the view is advanced
that modern architecture regains basic human values and opens up a new
phase of sound creative activity. ' Design for life' has become the slogan
of this movement. On the other hand, it is said that modern art and
architecture are debasing humanity and killing the real artistic values. 43
Although the public shows a tendency to support the latter view, we may
point to the fact that no alternative to modern art and architecture has
SO far been offered.
In any case we should take both views seriously. Let us hope that
modem architecture has contributed to solve essential human problems.
The actual situation, however, makes us understand that the solutions are
still rather defective, not least because of the omission of fundamental
environmental and symbolical factors. We must realize that the main
responsibility for this state of affairs is the architects' own. Our highly
complicated new world demands new professional methods, but while
the engineer and the scientist have adapted their activities to the changes
in the social structure, the architect has isolated himself and clung to
obsolete ideas and methods. Often he still supports the romantic nineteenth-
century idea that the artist should only express his autonomous personality."
This point of view really makes art become a luxury without direct contact
with or purpose in society, and architecture, being both a practical tool
and an art, becomes involved in a grave internal dissension. While the
planning is governed by practical and economical considerations, the
buildings are decorated afterwards to give them the status of works of art' .
The lack of a common basis has made it possible for the architects to take
all kinds of liberties. We might not always agree with the common criticism
20
H The well-known u t Sigiricd
Gicdion I b n$ hold the utreme
position. in thi. dcoote.
++ Stt A. Dorner : op. cit.
of arc and literature, but at lease we muse acknowledge chat it undoubtedly
has created an increased respect for these fields. For architecture we hardly
find any respect whatsoever, either from the public or from the architects.
In discussi ng architectural matters we rarely achieve anything but a quarrel
about what you like and what I like. As soon as the problems go beyond
the purely physical functions, the architects arc completely lost and fall
back upon haphazard improvizations. But the concrete problems they are
facing cannot be solved in this way. In the long run it also becomes highly
unsatisfactory that the formal language of architecture is not differentiated
in relation to' the different building tasks. Today it is often impossible to
distinguish visually between a cinema and a church. One of the reasons
why the public reacts against modern architecture, is simply that it does
not offer any n ~ w visual order as a substitute for the ' devaluated' styles
of the past. It has certainly created a new 'vocabulary' , but so far no
hierarchy of meaningful ' signs ' which may serve the purpose of expressing
the way of life of the society. 45
On this background we may sketch the programme of the present study.
T HE PROBLEM
What we need is a conscious clarification of our problems, that is, the
definition of our building tasks and the means to their solution.
The architect does not work in a vacuum. Hi s products are solutions
to problems coming from the environment, and the solutions also have a
retroactive effect. " We therefore have to inquire what the environment
asks from the architect, or rather, what it ought to ask from him. and
also how a ' good' solution is defined. The architect works in 'situations '
which are composed in particular ways and which explicitly or implicitly
pose particular questions. The situations are for instance made up of
economical, political and social conditions, of cultural traditions, of physical
conditions such as climate and topography, and not least of human beings
who see' the environment in very different ways. " The situations are
not static, but always changing : the political organization of the society
changes, the economical conjunctures oscillate, and the climate hardly
offers constant conditions. These fluctuations are always more submitted
21
45 Pr;m;t ive ' arch;tccturc has becomc an
important SOUrce of inspiration to present-day
archi!e<:!s because of its T1ua"in gful forms.
4(i Like a lcns the work of architecture col-
leers the c;l U>CS and spr e:od. the effects into
t he environment. The nature of the [ens is
condilionw. by what has to be collected , and
determines the effects.
47 Sec T. Par son. &. E. A. Shil. : ' Value
Motives and System. of Action' , in Towa, J
a wnmJ Throry of Action. Cambridge 1951,
p. 56.
to human predictions and control, and the architect has to participate in
the planning which should secure stability through the changes.
In general we may say that architecture is a human product which
should order and improve our relations with the environment , It is there-
fore necessary to investigate how human products are brought forth. Hence
we should ask : What purpose has architecture as a human product? The
functional-practical, the milieu-creating and the symbolizing aspects con-
stitute three possible answers to the question, all of which have to be
investigated more closely, and which should, if necessary, be supplemented
with other factors. 48
If we return to the layman, we may assert that architecture undoubtedly
concerns him in many different ways. Our life consists of changing activities
which demand changing surroundings. This implies that the environment
will 'look ' different according to our immediate state or ' role'. 49 To
take into consideration this relative and variable rd ation between man
and his environment, it is necessary to stress the question: How does orchi-
tccture ( the environment] us? It is a truism to say that the
environment influences us and determines our ' mood ' . That architecture
is a pare of our environment is just as evident. If we take this point of
departure, architecture has not only an instrumental pur pose, but also a
psychological function. The question could also be put in thi s way: In what
outer circumstances do we have this or that particular experience? se And
further we shall ask: Do we always have the same experiences in similar
outer circumstances? From everyday experience we know that the last
question has to be answered in the negative. We do know that we might
have very different experiences although the surroundings remain the same,
A known object may suddenly appear completely different, and We may
say that we have become alive to another of its aspects. Does this relativism
mean that architecture only plays a minor role as a background for our
daily activities, and at the most, illay induce certain ' sentiments' ? And
if this is the case, docs it necessarily have to be like thi s? Anyway it is
evident that the relationship between man and his environment is not as
simple as it may seem at first sight. We therefore have to investigate more
closely how we really perceive the world around us. 51 A better under-
standing of this process may also help us to grasp what it means to 'cxperi-
22
4& The .. pul'JlO2of uchito:cture nat ur-
ally differs from reg;on to region. In ItaI,..
the utisfaction of simple ph)'1ial needs is of
prene imponance; in Norway, Instead, the
milieu-problem is urgent.
49 See H. A. a Classifica
non of Interactions", in a Glmcraf
oj Actiol1 , P: 459.
:so The woro ' u perience' abo w yers the
perceptions of which we arc not immediately
ccnscieus,
51 This problem is treated bythe psychology
of perception which I",. been de Ydopcd On
an e"'p"rimelllal basis duri ng the last 7080
}'cars.
cnce architecture ' in the changing situations of daily life, It is possible
to learn to experience architecture, and the architects need such a training,
That the public 'learns to see' is also necessary if we want to increase the
respect for architecture and to bridge the gap between the professional
man and his client.
To give the questions about the purpose and effects of architecture a
basis, it is necessary to inquire whether particular forms ought to be
correlated with part icular tasks. We thus have to ask: Why has a building
from a particular puiod a particular form?sz This is the central problem
in architectural history as well as in architectural theory. 53 We do not
intend that the study of history should lead to a new historicism based
on a copying of the forms of the past. The information given by history
should above all illustrate the relations between problems and solutions,
and thus furni sh an empirical basis for further work. If we take our way
of putting the problem as a point of departure for an investigation of
architecture' s (changing) role in society, a new and rich field of study is
laid open. 54 Today the so-called anal ytical explanations of works of archi-
tecture are usually rather dubious. 55
To render an account of why a building 'looks' as it does, we should
rirsr have to describe it in an accurate and illuminating way, We here
again return to the demand for a well-defined and coherent terminology.
Thi s terminology should not only have a logical structure; it should also
be empirically founded to enable us to order our subject-matter in a con-
venicnt way.56 We thus have to develop a conceptual scheme which makes
it possible to answer the question : What docs 'architectural form' mean?
This is logically related to the preceding question. In both cases we have
:0 study the relations between corresponding structures in different fields.
Firstly we should' translate' a practical-psychological-social-cultural situa-
tion into architecture, and subsequently the into descriptive
terms." In doing chis, were are treating the relation between building task
and architectural solution, which is the core of our problem.
On a purdy theoretical levc:l we gain knowledge about the relation
between task and solution, But this knowledge may also be incorporated
Into a method which helps us in solving concrete probl ems, and which
might facilitate the historical analysis going from the solut ion back to
'3
51 We could 31s0S3Y: ' Why does buildi ng
from a cert ain time look as it does ? ' .
n The que'tion of Ihe meaning of ' tra_
dit ion ' lxclong. here. Wh;' do we tak e over
some for ms from the J"I,t, and why do we
reject
54 Severa l art historia n> have understood
the imporlaoee of this poim of view, C5-
pcci.:llly Gregor P,ml. son. Sec Kanft llu kctt
ByggnllJ, Stockhol m 1W , 'md Die Sodllic
Dime,u;on der KUlfft , Bern 1955.
55 "There CXUIS, however , a ver y valuah le
literalure treal ing more li mitro., special proh_
lerns,
56 So far , su.c: h attempts have remained {rag.
mcmMy, for instance the ' Grundlxgri ffe ' of
Heinrieh WoltRin. See H. WOltRin: Kunst_
gudru-Julichc Gn".Jbcgrit!c, Miinm o:n 1915'
5; Huilding task _ Building _ r>ncriprion.
the task. The historical analysis orders our experiences and makes the
judgement of solutions possible. All in all, we arrive at a theory treating
architectural problems. That does not mean that architecture is reduced
to this theory. Architectural solutions are not brought forth by intellectual
analysis alone. On the other hand it is not possible for responsible architects
to base their solutions on the arbitrary tastes and wishes of the public.
We may actually claim that the visual chaos of our day stems above all
from the architects' attempts to satisfy isolated or misunderstood needs.
The responsibility of the architect as the one who more than anybody
else gives form to our environment, can only be based upon a clarification
of the purpose and means of architecture.
The questions we have taken as a point of departure for the present
study belong to three different categories. Firstly we have the questions
concerning the relationship between buildings and those who use them.
that is, the prerequisites and effects of architecture. Subsequently follows
the question about the organization of the means, seen independently of
their effects. Finally we question whether particular means correspond to
particular prerequisites and effects. Taken together the questions cover all
aspects of architecture as a human product. 53 The theory thus becomes
complete, if we succeed in answering these questions.
The' nature of architecture ' is not something which has to be added
to our questions. ' The nature of architecture' can only be characterized
by combining the answers to the three kinds of questions we have indicated,
and does not consist in any unknown metaphysical factor. The term is,
by the way, a characteristic symptom of the lack of clear thinking still
common in architectural aesthetics. We should stop' freezing' architecture
into abstract dimensions which only rarely have any contact with actual
reality.
The logical ske/cton of our architectural theory will always remain
valid because it is purely analytical. Thi s does not mean that architecture
is always the same, only that the theory is capable of covering all possible
historical 'c ontents'. Hence we do not want to present a 'textbook' , but to
establish a convenient method of architectural analysis. At the centre of our
investigation we put the work of architecture, and we understand this as a
human product, that is. we study the conditions under which it appears.
53 The in JlfincipJe correspond.
to th<lt of semtcoc', which will be d;scu.Kd
btt<,
II. Background
. J ~ _
1. Perception
PHENOMENA AND OBJECTS
OUf immediate awareness of the phenomenal world is given through
perception. We are highly dependent upon seeing our surroundings in
a satisfactory manner. Not only do we have to find OUT way through the
multitude of things, but we should also understand ' or judge' the things
: 0 make them serviceable to us. The judgement is just as important when
-"'"C dr ive a car as when we search for a partner for life, because it enables
us co make decisions and act appropriately. In daily life we generally act
on the basis of our spontaneous perceptions, without tr ying to classify or
analyze our impressions. Nevertheless we manage surprisingly well, due
: 0 the face that the phenomena ' appear (are perceived} with form'. But
i t also happens that we err. The small problems of daily life we usually
manage without much trouble, but when the problems become less trans-
parent, we often run the risk of being fooled. It may for instance happen
-har we judge (perceive) another person ' wrongly' . We may believe that
3e is better than he is, and be disillusioned. That is, we had expected a
.iifferent behaviour from him in certain situations. Particularly often our
expectations fail when the conditions are ' unusual '. It is difficult to
recognize a Chinese among other Chinese, and to judge his character is
sri ll more difficult, even after a closer acquaintance. We may say that we
':0 not ' attain ' the real object of our perception. It may also happen that a
situation makes us feel completely lost. A common case is an exhibition of
modern 'abstract ' art. Many do not see anything but a confusing array
or coloured spots, although knowing that something ' more ' has been
;..mended, that a better performance is requested from perception. But
mostly we have to take our position and act on the basis of such insufficient
perceptions. Brunswik says strikingly that the motto of perception ought
' 7
to be: 4 Besser unsicher als gar nicht ' I In general we may say that the
purpose of perception is to give us information which enables us to act in
an appropriate way, but we already understand that perception is an
unreliable companion who does not mediate an objective and simple world.
Spontaneously, the world consists of the phenomena, or our experiences.'
We define according to Jorgensen: ' The word ' phenomenon ' designates
every 'something' which may be experienced, and its contrary ' nothing'
does not designate anything, but expruses that I do not experience any-
thing, that is, that nothing is prt'sent to me".' But it would hardly be
satisfactory to consider the world as an aggregate of accidental phenomena.
We know from daily experience that the phenomena are united in par-
ticular ways, we talk about causes and effects, meaning and order. Les us
look at an example.
We meet a girl. Th is girl has certain properties of which we spon-
taneously become aware. She may seem very beautiful because she corte-
spends to our idea of how a beautiful girl should look. Being asked after
the first meeting if we know the girl , we should have to answer both
yes and no. We do know some of her properties, but some thought tells
us that she certainly has other qualities which are hidden to us. For the
present, her beauty represents her to us. We say that her beauty is one
of her' manifestations' . Through a closer acquaintance we may discover
other manifestations of the girl, and we say that we know her better.
Perhaps the first property we recognized recedes, becoming less important
and convincing. Generally we may say that any object is represented by
its manifestations, that is, by mediating phenomena or ' lower ' objects.
We may also call these phenomena properties because they are not a thing,
' but belong to the thing in such a way that they directly represent or
symbolize the thing for us; and we cannot be sure that some day we may
not 'discover' (i. e. will experience) new phenomena which have the
character of being properties of the same thing. What we call ' the thing ',
is thus not only the collection of its known properties. but the collection
of its known and unknown properties' . 4 From this it follows that a
phenomenon is present (appears), while an object exists.
5
The phenomena
do not exist, as they are characterized by a lack of permanence. That the
objects exist, means only that they are constituted as the most pamanent
IE. Brun.wik , W","r..dllll,,"g und &gc..
SlJ"dswelt. Wkn 1934. p. 126.
2 The immediately given has been denom.
lnaeed in many different W3)'i . Brunswik
(op. cit. , p. 15) reports the terms "Inhalt",
'Erscheioung", 'Eindruck ' , "Gegebenhcit',
In Englisb "sense-content " and ' sen..,-datum
are generally used. Husser! introduced the
lam ' phenomenon ' .
3 , . JOrgensen : PSYkowgi, KObenhavn 19-46,
p. 1')2 .
4 JOrgensen: op. cit., 1". 156.
5 ' The .t atement "the OI>je(1 G exists" is
Untamount to " such and such symbolizing
phcnomella are present" '. Jorgensen: op. clr.,
p. 157
relations between phenomena. Thus they have no independent existence
and it is meaningless to talk about "das Ding an sich ". 6 When we say
that an object has ' unknown' properties, this does not mean that it has
an independent existence, only that our conception of the object is insuffi-
cicnt and has to be revised through future experiences.
We use the word ' object' in the widest possible way in accordance
with Carnap, who defines the object as ' alles woriiber cine Aussage
zcmachr wcrden karin". i Both the ' things' of our daily life and the less
intelligible concepts of science, such as 'atom ' , arc objects. Works of
art, social groups, political parties, and even the State itself, are objects.
although they are not physical things.
O BJECT LEVELS
Generally we judge and act on the basis of a few representing phenomena,
that is, we have an incompl ete and superficial idea of the world of objects.
This may, of course, be dangerous, and may lead to unfortunate actions.
:f we marry the girl because of her beauty, it may bring along unpleasant
surprises. If we experience or judge a work of art on the basis of an
accidental but conspicuous property. we are guilt y of an injustice, disre-
;arding the more essential properties of the object. Generally the objects
.i:C represented by diffuse ' totality-phenomena' or by particularly pro--
aounccd properties. It may of course happen that this gives a satisfactory
oasis for our behaviour, but in front of works of art this is hardl y the
Works of art are generally very complex objects and therefore not
easily accessible. Thus we generally do not advance beyond the perceiving
)f secondary properties. It is a fundamental misunderstanding to believe
-har a 'good ' work of art is characterized by being easily perceived. We
show the tendency to abstract single properties and regard them as if they
....-ere the whole object. 8
It is also impor tant to underline that the phenomena receive their
-cprcscntative function through ourselves. Thus we have to learn that a
.ertain phenomenon is mediating a particular object, and through expe-
- ie nce we have to discover the relations between the phenomena, and build
"P a world of objects. We have to learn a foreign language. just as we
(, Moglkhkeil ..inc. Vor kommcn' in
ist <lie Form des Gegcn. tandcs. '
L. Wittgcn.tcin : T ,actatUl Log;elJ. PhillJslJf"
hieu" 19a1, a.ora, a. oq .
7 R. Camap. De, llJgischc Aufhau de. Welt ,
Berlin 19a8, p. I .
a K. Buhler's ' Pri nzip <lee absrrakeen Re-
lcvanz', see Brunswik . cp- cir., p. 203.
have to learn that the sight of a pencil indicates something we can pick
up for writing. 9
Obviously the representing phenomena do not have the same importance
for the object. This holds true both in spontaneous perception and when
we have made a closer acquaintance with the object. Objects are built up
through generalizations and ordering of experiences, and we have already
suggested how the hierarchy' of phenomena may change through further
experiences. The nature' of the object is defined as the properties appear-
ing more frequently, and forming the simplest relationships. Properties
characterized by irregularity are generally of minor importance. While
the visual phenomena are highly dependent upon the ' conditions of obser-
vation' (illumination etc.), touch is more invariant. Therefore "palpableness
is the most primitive and common criterion of reality'. 10 It follows that
the object which is represented seems to be more ' remote' than those
representing it. According to Jorgensen we may talk about ' object levels' .
A cultural object is thus on a 'higher level ' than a physical one. From
what has been said above, we understand that the lower phenomena do
not as a rule appear first, mostly they are only accessible through a certain
analytical attitude. Generally perception grasps an intermediate level, and
only through a change of our attitude can we reach the lower or higher
objects. 11
ArrITUDE
Perception is not only problematical because we may judge the situation
unsatisfactorily. It is a paradoxical but common experience that different
persons at the same time have a similar and different experience of the
same environment. That we do manage to participate in the activities of
daily life, proves that we have a common world. We do all see a house
in front of us, we may walk by it, look through the windows, knock at
the door and enter. Obviously we have all seen the house, nothing indicates
that somebody believed he was standing in front of a tree. But we may
also with justification say that we all have different worlds. When we
judge the house in front of us, it often seems as if we were looking at
completely different objects. The same holds true for the judgement of
3
, IOrg,DSCIl ; op. cit . p. IsS.
10 for g<' n>eD; op. cil., p. 170.
II JOrgensen : op. cit p. 1 ~ .
persons, and not least, works of art. Fortunately it often happens that we
agree, but the idea that ' taste should not be discussed' is well established.
How has this to be understood ? So far we may say that the classifications
upon which we agree are generally rather superficial, and that the agree-
ment usually finishes when we have to see the things of everyday life as
manifestations of higher objects.
This implies that we have a different attitude ' (orientation) to the
'same ' things. We have all experienced how the same thing may change
according to our attitude. If we are in a bad mood even known and dear
things may seem repulsive. The psychologists have studied this aspect of
perception and have found that the attitude plays a much more important
role than we generally believe. Thus Brunswik has shown that we have
a tendency to overestimate the size of things we consider valuable, as for
instance coins. U and another experiment shows that the same coins appear
larger (relative to a neutral scale of comparison) to poor than to rich
children. B Hence we have to realize that our attitude docs not only
:nean a more or less friendly outlook on things, but that the attitude
directly determines the phenomena. We may even say that it is nonsense
;:0 talk about phenomena independently of an attitude. 14 Naive realism,
therefore, is the victim of a fundamental misunderstanding, in believing
that a similar world is given, a priori. to all of us. .
The attitude is often dictated by the situation. When we read. the
letters are given with form, as well as size and colour. But the task
demands that we direct our atti tude towards the form, whereas the size
and the colour are irrelevant, Of even disturbing, if they are not ' omitted'
in the perception. 15
Perception, therefore, is anything but a passive reception of impressions.
We may change the phenomena by changing our attitude. Brunswik used
the word ' intention' instead of attitude, to underline the active character
of the act of perceiving. We have suggested that our common everyday
intentions are simple classifications (such as fish, flesh, or fowl ') which
enable us to master the situations of daily life. 16 When a more unusual
attitude is requested, a greater ' intentional depth ' is needed, or let us say,
when we have to study the thing more closely and judge it more actively,
our everyday classifications fail, and we do not fully ' grasp' the situation.
3'
11 Brumwik: op. cit. , pp- 120. 148.
13 I . S. Bruner and C. Goodman : 'Value
and Need as Organizing Factors in Percep-
tion " I . Abnorm. Psychol. XLII, 1941: also
J. S. Bruner and L. Postman : 'Symbolic
Value as Organizing Factor in Pera: ption ' ,
] . Soc. Psychol. 27, 1948.
H The problem WaS investig;atcd already 60
)'CaIS ago by Kiilpe. A group of were
exposed for .tIl inStant to coUOQUons
of numbcn, forms , and coloun. If they were
asked in advance 10 report on the "umbns
shown. they were unable to tcll anything
whatsoe:Ytt about the colours and th" forms ,
and VMx versa. Kiil pr: coocIudcd that a oiru
atiCIn is influenced by an ' Aufglthe in ouch
a wl Y that we only ><:c whal we e:tpect . 5
O. Kulpe: ' Vttrucb" u!>cr Abnraktion',
1 KonE' . 1_ Ezp. Psych. , ' 904. p. 56.
15 Size: and colour may of counc contribute
to the of the wricing, but they arc
DOl conno:tcd with the meanj"g.
16 Most persons. however . have their more
or less extensive opeeial field where they arc
dependent upoo d.nsifications.
A car-drivcr has to per=i"" different a'lpttU
of the sutrou ndingJ th:m the P""""ng'" at hi,
side.
...
I
.
This expresses itself thr ough disagreement s, or thr ough our falling back
upon the superficial, everyday concord. That we nevertheless use the same
names for the things shows that language in general serves to describe our
everyday world. One could very well ask if we should not be content
with this simple world, and avoid complicating things unnecessarily. But
we know that everything we consider particularly valuable, like natur e,
ar t, social solidarity, scientific insight , and religious belief, is characterized
by going beyond the level of everyday life.
We have to conclude that it is of the greatest importance to investigate
how and to what degree we ' attain' the higher objects.
INTERMEDIARY OBJECTS
Egon Brunswik was the first to formulate a psychology which integrates
the organism with its environment. 17 Hi s work , however, has gained too
little attention. both because of its forbidd ing degree of complexity, and
because psychologists often suffer from the prejudice that psychology has
to be studied by 4 peeping into the organism'. n Brunswik' s point of
depar ture is the question to what degree and by means of what mechani sms
we are able to perceive the objects which constitute our relevant environ-
mem. " We quote one of his examples : Let us suppose that a spider onl y
reacts to movements in the visual field. Flies are biologically important
objects to the spider, but it is only able to perceive the object "fly ' by
assuming ' that all movements in the visual field represent (arc manifesta-
tions of) flies. We may take it for granted that the spider often errcs, and
that it only in a very unsatisfactory way ' attains' this vital object. Another
animal, for instance a fish, may also react to the form and colour of the
fly, and thus attains a more satisfactory perception (it does not err as often
as the spider). But the fish does not perceive the fly 'perfectly' either,
and is easily fooled by an imitation which has certain proper ties in common
with the fly. 20 This example shows that it is not at all certain that per-
ception reaches its real goal. The biologically important objects usually lie
'deeper ' than those perceived. Rather than grasping the thi ng directly we
perceive a situation where the thi ng is included as a possible component. 21
3
2
17 Brunswik: op. eil.
13 the evidentl y ha,
m be lo the stimulation of light -rays.
The tl imuhu is projected on the retina where
an iovute<!. and diminished picture of the
vi.ual field is formed. It may seem self-e,"dem
that perception is a copy of t his ' picture ' ,
a...,d it i. still common to regard the eye a'
a photographic Th i, theor y became
untenable after the discovery of the so-called
thing eon,une)'. The projective pattun on
the rClina inco<:lndy when we move
relative to the thing whicb i, perceivM. We
may even say t hat the t hing i. rarelv
represented by thc samc retinal And
. till we perceive ' amc thing l It is there-
fore ol>Viou. thn percrption would mMiate
a chaotic world if our 'b pmence were a eopy
of pict ure on retina. The thin gs would
lose all .uhilit), and permanence. Accordingly,
Brunswik sai'$ that the main question i,
, ,., to what CXlent t he system i.
abk to liberate itself from the vari:l.hili ty of
the proximal re;orescnu tion of tirnila r distal
stimuli.' (Brun,wik : ' The Conceptu<ll Focus
of System... in >' b rI : Theory,
New York t951, p. 135.) Th i, that
the iDlete' t is shifted from mere physiological
aspects to the rd ationship octween organ-
ism and t he environlTKnt. In other words,
the phy<iologiYI interpretation of perception
which aims at an investigation of the retinal
attd cerebral proceu c.. is llTd cvant and only
apparently concerned with percept ual problem.
(Sec also Rrunswik : The ConccpfUaf Frilme
work oj Pry( hology, 1950.)
19 Brunlwik in !>b tI : op. ch., p. 135.
20 Brun. wik : Wahrnd l m'''' g, p, 117.
11 For the spider the sit uation 'movement ' ,
which i. ilsmmed tantamount to moving fly' .
The reaction corrnponds to this assumption.
One may object that the imperfect perception of animals does not prove
anything about human beings. But we have already mentioned the suitor
who chooses his bride because: of her beauty, and we understand that the
object-world of man is also known through its more or less reliable mani-
fes tations. When the bride is chosen because of financial considerations,
the whole thing becomes still more complicated. The suitor's love, so to
say, is a function of the girl's money, in other words, his attitude is not
only directed towards her personal properties, but also towards her fortune,
and the rich bride therefore seems more interesting, better, and more
beautiful than a ' corresponding' poor gir1. The suitor thus ' sees ' a girl
who is conditioned by something extraneous, her personality is ' coloured '
by her money. 12 If this perception is beneficial remains to be seen, but
we may at least say that the suitor does not attain the ' pure ' object which
is represented by an objective description of the girl' s personality. The
suitor only perceives an ' inurmediary object ' between some of the girl's
personal properties and her fortune. His perception could even be con-
ditioned by the weather on the day he met her;" We have all experienced
that similar intermediary objects are easily formed between a person and
his nationality, social position, title, or family name. The formation of
intermediary objects is characterized by our believing that we perceive
pure objects, without, however, attaining them. We may, for instance,
say that the suitor tried to judge his bride to the best of his ability, the
judgement, however, becoming defective because of the unavoidable
disturbing factor of the money.
The formation of intermediary objects also holds true for the perception
of simple physical situations. H If we try to estimate the real length of a
small stick appearing at a certain distance by comparison with a series
of sticks near at hand, we will exhibit a tendency to underestimate it.
This is called imperfect size-constancy' . At the same time it is evident
that the projection on the retina of the distant stick is much smaller than
the projection of a similar stick near at hand. But the relative difference
between the projective lengths (which is proportional with the distance)
is always much larger than the relative difference between estimated and
real length C' approximative size-constancy'). If we instead intend the
projective length of the distant stick on a stick at hand, we will generally
33
21 Brun. wik : W"hnukmun g. .. p. :2.20.
:u Brumwik iocroduen the term Zwischen-
gegenst"nJ 10 npress that we onl,. anain
objects which lie "between" the pure objects
m.aking up objective description of the
situation .
24 An interest ing illmu ation is furni,hed
by the so-called ' tone colou" . which have
been used as an example in a recent study
on artistic perception (A. Ehrenzweig : The
Prycho"",,lysis 0/ Artistic He"ring ""d Vision,
London 195J). It is a well-known physkal
bet that any audibl e tone is acl;Olllpanied by
a scrin of ituudibk overtones. The overtones
ury accordiog to the t hing which prod=
Ihe tone, that ii, violin produces overtones
different from lho5e of a flute, and the over
tones produced by the different in. r:mmeDlS
vary to the way they are played.
The result is that the 'same ' tone gains a
varying lone colour. Ehrenzweig says that
our conscious perception 'r epresses' the over
tones to make us hear Ihe fundament al tone
only. The cvencnes, instead . are perceived
unconsciously': we can infer the hidden
existence of ao unconscious thing-free overtone
hearing: (op. cil . p. 155) In reality, bowevu.
wc do nOl hear the overtones less ' consciously'
than the fundamenul tone. As Ehrenzwng
him, d f ro:ognizes, .imply hear a par-
ticub. r tone wit" a particular tone wlour. Wr
perceive neither funda mental tone nor over
tones, but an inlermMiary object (lone with
lone colour), and unfl- er. tand thae Ehren.
zweig's theory of IWO differenl pcr<:eplions is
meaningless. The phenomenon, howevf::t, can
Ix "",,/yud by means of the objects funda-
rnenl:ll lone and tone colour,
overestimate it. We see that the perception in both cases is an intermediary
object: the length is found between the two possible extremes, the real
length and the projective value. If we intend the real length, the inter-
mediary object will approach this; if we instead intend the projective
length, the intermediary object will move in this direction. In both cases
the intermediary object is a product of the two possible intentions, with
the intended one dominating. 25
The objects which constitute the intentional possibilities we call, in
accordance with Brunswik, ' intentional poles' , 26 All the poles may be
of importance to the attained intermediary object, but the intended one
is primary. One may also say that we simultaneously intend different
poles, but with varying intensity. The perception of ambiguous figures
clearly shows that our experiences are conditioned by the pole-objects, and
may not be derived univocally from the stimulus-situation. When the
'aspect ' of an ambiguous figure shifts, the stimulus remains the same.
And still the figure ' looks' completely different . We may say that the
aspects are possible interpretations of the situation. To perceive is to
interpret, that is, to choose between the intentional possibilities. 21
What is said above illustrates the thesis of Gestalt psychology that
' the parts are conditioned by the whole ' 2A, only formulated more precisely
by taking the attitude into consideration. Brunswik expresses this when
he says that the poles influencing a particular perception form a "coherence-
system' 29. It is not said that ail the possible poles which may be connected
with the stimulus-situation really contribute to the intermediary object.
A variation of poles not belonging to the coherence-system does not
influence the experience. $0 The 'coherence-system' is a more precise desig-
nation of the relevant aspects of the situation and expresses, as suggested,
that we do not perceive isolated (discrete) absolute objects, but relativistic
totalities, such as a '6 ern long stick at 5 m distance' , and not a ' 6 cm
long stick' 31 The coherence-system defines under which conditions we
(imperfectly) attain an object. The less extensive and the simpler the
coherence-system is, the greater is the chance that we may attain an
approximately correct perception of a single object. In most cases the
intermediary object lies close to one of the poles. This effect is so striking
34
5
2S Brumwik : Wahrnehmung.. ., pp. 4l ff.
16 patt ern on the for
is a intentional pole in nat ur -
painting.
17 S L. Wittgemlein: Philosophi("QI In-
vestig.>riotts, Oxford 1953. p. 193. This makes
u' underst=d the nature of ..lsual illu. ions
and Gestall phenomena. The illu. ion of Kundt,
where the left ,ubdi..idcd hall sam. longc.-
than the right one. resul ts from the formation
of an inlermcdi..ry obj=
and length. The ha.lYe$ :are eq=l. but the left
one comists of more p:uu. This ' I!IOR' in-
fluences the pcrceptinn of the lengt hs (Bruns-
wik : WQ},rnd mung. . p. '40). The WC' II-
kllOwn illusion can be und erstood
..s the form..rion of an intermediarj- object
between a length and an ard <') (Brun. wik :
WQhr"chm""l . p. I SO).
The GemJt psychologiiU wac the fin!
to ilreu th..t we experience the en..ironment
a, conruting of objects or 'wholes '. The point
of departun was \'00 Ehrenfd s' disro..n-y of
the so-cal led ' gmalt-qua.lity (Sec C. \'On
Ehrenfch: Ueber Gcst:tI tqu..liuten . Vi m ..{-
jIt},rsdri/t fUr wUs. P},il. 180)0. vol.
pp. l.t9 fl .). If we transpose a melody from
one b,y to anotha, all the tone, but
the melody remains the >amcl Von Ehrenfels
inuoduecd the tcrm gau lt.qua lity' to dencee
the fact thaI a whole (e. g. a melody or a
vi. 1I31 figure) is something more ' t han the
um ' of the properties of i ii d ements. The
ide.. was developed by the Gestal t p.reho-
logi, t. Max Wertheimer , Wolfgang Kohler
..nd Kurt Koffka, who proved t h..t en clemen!
according 10 the context it forms a
of. in otha word. , rhe whole determines
rhe f"Jrts.
2.9 The term expresses the interdependence
of tbe poles.
:Ill The of the illu
.ion, for is of the
co]nurs of the paper and the lines.
31 Brunswik : WahrMhmung.. . p. 75.
that we generally have the illusion of perceIVlng pure objects. It is also
normal that the contribution of the poles to the perception is unequal ;
the intermediary object indicates the share of each."
We have mentioned that Brunswik has int roduced the term ' inten-
tional depth ' to express that the intentional poles may lie on different
levels, and represent each other. " Difference in intentional depth is not
the same as what we called object levels" as it is not certain that the
lowest object is more easily perceptible. The situation at the moment will
determine if a ncar or distant pole is the right goal for the perception,
Thus it would be to intend a dangerously 'distant ' object if we start to
philosophize about the transformations of our visual world while driving
a car; and it would be just as dangerous to intend too near an object,
such as a minor detail of the visual field.
The lower objects which mediate the relevant object also offer problems.
It is characteristic that many representing objects do not clearly mediate
one particular object, while an object on the other hand may be represented
:n many different ways. Brunswik says that the mechanism of perception
.s characterized by Melmlcutigkcit or vicarious mediation ' . Thus any
shape within the projectional pattern on the retina may be caused either
Jy a distant but large object, or by a small object close by." Any' hypo-
-hesis' about reality therefore has to be based upon at least two mediating
objects to be fairl y safe. 35 In spontaneous experience the mediating objects
for instance the projectional pattern on the retina) are 'swallowed ' by
the process of perception, and a part icular attitude is needed to make us
aware of the mediation. In the same way the physical manifestations of
.<. work of art may be swallowed ' in certain types of art experience. 36
. The State" on the contrary, is an object ,v-hich we can hardl y perceive,
:- "J t have to imagine through its manifestations. 31 It is very common that
., higher object forms an intermediate object with its own mediation.
:-ie perceived quality of a work of art will thus often be influenced by
:.:...: ' fi neness' of the materials employed. Intentionally distant objects are
.sually difficult to attain (especially when we lack special training in per-
them), because the mediation always becomes more complicated. "
In daily life our imperfect perceptions are usually adequate, and we
i.sc rarely have time to control the perceptions on which we base our
35
32 Brunswik r W"hrndmung , p. 73.
33 Brunswik: , p. 103.
304 Th e projeai ve therefore, does
nor h3ve 3 uni.,ouI relation 10 the slimulus.
object. The same hok!. true for all cues which
determine the perception of depth (dispoIrily.
3ccomo,:btion, perspectiye etc.), these: only
ha'e in common '. higher or lessee prcba-
bility of being caused by a ceruin environ-
mental deprb-partern ". (Brunswik in Man :
op. cit., p. 136.)
3S K. Biihler's allgancincs Dup1isi\iu-
prinaip ". Thi s implies th.t ' maning' alwaY'
consists in rel. tions.
36 The simple empiric. al fact that the rae-
dialion is omincc! in perception mak"
theories of an
perception unnecessary. See note :z.q .
37 Brunswik : . .., pp. 121,
nG.
Brumwik : p. 193.
actions. It may even be convenient that perception spontaneously counter-
balances several factors and makes a compromise.
When we partly or completely attain an object, our conduct may be
described by means of this object. We have suggested that any objective
description has to be done in terms of objects because the objects are
constructed with objectivity as a criterion. This is the basis of Brunswik's
programme: ' Psychologic vom Gegenstand her' or psychology in terms
of objects' . J9 The objects themselves may be understood as descriptions
of an ' ideal ' conduct, or as perceptions under ideal conditions (measure-
ment). Such a conduct is only suitable when facing certain tasks, but
gives a standard for action in general.
We understand that the immediately given, the phenomena, are inter-
mediary objects, The term ' intermediary object ' has been introduced in
such a way that the phenomena are ' explained '. We repeat that to render
an account of an intermediary object, one has to indicate the poles which
have contributed to its formation, in other words, to investigate ' under
which conditions, in which phenomenal context a phenomenon appears
(is given) ' . 40 It may seem confusing to say that we are able to experience
something which is an intermediate between a length and an area, or
between a size and a value; in general that the nature of the perceptions
is such that language remains without words. But we have just seen that
the words denote objects which are abstractions (generalizations) from the
immediately given phenomena. Spontaneously we escape confusion by
assuming' that we experience pure objects, without realizing that the
perception is 'diffusely mixed' with the perception of other objects. 41
We understand the importance of the object-constructions as the basis of
an ordered world, but we also understand that they make us miss the
finer shades. The concept ' intermediary object ' deprives the world of the
last rest of immanent static or absolute form, and presents instead an
interaction of "self-changing energies' . 42
Above we have given an account of the process of perception, but we
have not explained how int entions are attained, how we learn that particular
phenomena represent particular objects. Nor is it explained how we win
the vicariousness of mediation.
J9 F. H. Allport: Theonn oj Peru ptioll,
New Yo.rk 1955. gives too narrow an i lltCf-
prcutioa of Brnnswik's concepe of object.
40 JOrgensen: np. cit. p. 167.
41 Prinzip dCl' diJf\UCn GcncDstat!dsva
mcngung. ~ Brunswik : Wd,."d"',"' g...
p. 164
42 ~ A. Dorner : Tloe _ y hryqnJ Art ',
New York 19-17.
SOCIALI ZATION
In trying to establish the connection between the organism and its environ-
ment, we are inquiri ng how the adjustment of the organism takes place.
The child' s adaptation to the environment is generally labelled as a
socialization-process' . H This term indicates that the child is admitted to
a society and only graduall y learns to apprehend what the society expects
from it, and what the child itself may expect to attain. This adaptation
not only consists in adjusting to social objects (other persons and collec-
tivities), but also in adjusting to the physical things with which the child
comes in contact. The child, so to say, has to learn how the things ' behave'
if they are treated in a particular way, that the things may be grasped
or lifted with more or less effort, that they arc hard or soft. Through
experiences with the things one may adjust one' s own conduct, and per-
ception becomes a recognition of the things which are known. It might
be objected that the word socialization ' does not fit the adjustment to
the physical things, as an interminable amount of elementary experiences
has to be common to all cultures to enable man to find his way in the
physical surroundings. But at the same time the physical objects differ in
the various societies, and above all, they participate in different human
actions, Children growing up in a metropolis and peasant children thus
have different experiences with physical things. Generally perception
:5 very unsatisfactory in front of things we do not know. .... As grown-up
?Crsons we usually have to undergo particular experiences to be able to
:arry out a particular profession. This means that perception is dependent
.lpon our conceptions; we perceive the sum of our own experiences," And
these experiences are in the highest degree a result of the demands made
:lyour society. We may also put it this way: the formation of intermediary
:>bjects is dependent upon intentional poles which have to be understood
as generalized, socially conditioned experiences. The intentions we attain
ire a result of the socialization-process. Tautologically expressed the given
world consists of the objects we know.
4Ii
Very soon the parents start to expect a certain behaviour from the child.
_\ t the same time they adjust themselves to the child' s actions and try to
cnderstand their ' meaning ' , that is, what the child seems to expect from
37
43 T . POluom : The Socil:l Sy# cm, Glencoe
195 1 p. :<:19.
.... A penon who has no ""per1mce with
pcnciIs, would nor c:lpericnu the pencil Ii
such, bur ;as a piece of wood; and a penon
who h",s no C:lpcriCftCC with wood would Iuo.,e
a still more uguc perceporm.
' 5 See E. C. Tolman: 'A PhychoIoginI
Model ' , in TowlZTi /I GnlmJ Theory of Au
ion, p, :.
<6 POl nonl 6: Shils: 01" or., p. 6; .
the environment. Parents and child thus influence each other mutually,
a state of affairs which is generally called ' interaction'. 47 The interaction
is conditioned by mutual expectations. Scientific work is also based upon
expectations, in the form of appropriate predictions. Human interaction
is more complicated because it is not enough to understand the "behaviour"
of physical objects, but one has also to consider the reactions of Aller to
one' s own actions. Thi s is a fundamental characteristic of human inter-
action. From childhood on, we behave in certain ways to obtain the
reactions we want from Alter, or to escape undesired reactions. Those
objects which may enter into a relationship of mutual expectations, we
have called social objects' . Social objects may be single personalities,
groups or collectivities. For the child, the mother is primarily an important
social object, soon also the whole family and only later other collectivities.
Evidently the social expectations are also generalized experiences. One
attains in correspondence with one's own actions. The baby cries when
it wants something, and because its needs are relatively few, this is usually
adequate. When the needs become more differentiated, the child' s actions
bccorne correspondingly articulated and it starts to make use of signs'
to attain gratification of its expectations. In this way it takes advantage
of the fact that objects may represent each other. We thus see that the
signs we employ denote generalized experiences, objects we want to attain,
escapeor describe. The generalized experiencesare abstracted inter-situational
similarities. The' sign ' is of fundamental importance because it overlooks
minor differences, and through its stable ' meaning' makes that communi-
cation possible which is a prerequisite of any different iated interaction. 43
The signs are characterized by being common and ready for use; they are
not invented anew within the individual interaction.-w Socialization there-
fore primarily consists in an adjustment to that part of tradition which
comprises all sign-complexes or 'symbol-systems' .50 It is impossible to get
direct individual knowledge of all the objects in our environment , but
we take over instead the experiences of others through the symbol-systems.
Although these experiences often are communicated and used in a super
ficial way, they make us grasp objects far beyond our individual potentiali-
ties. The process of socialization is thevetore both necessary and dangerous.
It is needed to integrate the individual in the common world and to give
47 Parsons " Shih : op. cit. , p. ' 5J.
43 Parson<: op. cit., pp. '0 fl .
49 E. C. T o l m ~ n : op. cit., p. J45.
50 Par""n" op. cit., p. 16.
him a feeling of security. It becomes dangerous when the adjustment to
the accepted standards is exaggerated and brings forth prejudices and
rejections of everything different. In a fascinating study, G. Allport has
shown how socialization generally leads to pronounced confli ct-creating
?rejudices. ' 1The' standard-meanings' also are often employed by oppor-
tunists or 'success-hunters' who try to win a large public by serving up
:he most vulgar generalities. '2
We understand that the characteristic expectations which determine a
personality may not be interpreted as organical needs. The personality as
well as the collectivity and the symbol-systems are created through inter-
action. We also understand that all these objects are mutually inter-
Sependem. " Our inborn faculties' cannot be considered anything but
cispositions which have to receive concrete empirical material within the
.imits established by the interaction-process.
The socialization primarily takes place through ' imitation ' and' identi-
Scarion ' . Imitation ' consists in taking ooer cultural deme nts like know-
beliefs. and symbols, while identification' means that we come
:.3 understand and accept the mediated values, i. e., that the expec-
u rions and objects the signs designate are of different importance. The
-esu lt is a common standard which gives meaning to the interaction-
?":ocess. The values th-v are not absolute either. but must be understood
LS more or less invariant social products. They are given a priori neither
...:: personality nor in nature, but are handed down as a part of the cultural
tradition, and are integrated in the personality through interaction. 55
We have mentioned that socialization continuously demands that
-csolete expectations are ' substituted' with new ones. This is particularly
....::lportant during childhood and adolescence, but the process necessarily
continues throughout our whole life as we always have to face new
a ruations, and because society undergoes continuous changes. The sub-
zi rution can only be carried out by forwarding demands which initially
the interaction a certain lack of balance. Immediate gratification of
::' :::se demands is impossible, at the same time as our expectations become
.-:ong ; something else is asked for other than we expected. It is of decisive
...::lportance that the ego does not respond with defence-mechanisms which
cinder the socialization-process, but acce::pts the disappointment and adjusts
39
51 G. Allport : 'Prejudke ' , in Toward a
Theory of Action.
52 See C. Kluckhohn : Value-
Orknt;ltions in the Theory of Action ' . in
Toward a Ge- IJenl Theory oj ActIOn.
5.1 Panons: op. cit. p. 18.
" Parsons : cp- cit., p. UI.
55 P;lnOns : op. cit., p. 16.
itself to the new expectations. 'Security' thus means the ability to bear
a certain amount of disappointments, and these disappointments or re-
nouncements are basic to the development of personality.
' Socialization ' therefore implies that we learn to behave in particular
ways towards particular things, in other words, that particular phenomena
have become connected with particular objects. This relationship varies
according to which interactions the single individual has established. The
sociologists express this by saying that we play different "roles' in society.
The word ' role' thus denotes an ordered behaviour determined by parti-
cular intentional poles. se The word has been chosen to illustrate that our
behaviour is neither accidental nor understandable through an isolated
study of the single individual. It also expresses that we have diDermt
roles in interaction, which are mutually interdependent. A society is an
ordered system of roles defined through institutions. Marriage is such an
institution. The personality may also be understood as a system of roles
determined by the individual's participation in different interactions. The
same role, therefore, is different to different individuals in so far as it
always belongs to another role-system. The roles of the single individual
change during the course of life, especially during childhood and adoles-
cence. Particularly important is the transition to the professional world
of the grownup person. Parsons considers this a new phase in the sociali-
zation-process. While the first phase was universal, the second is more
specialized. In great part it consists in the acquisition of that specialized
knowledge which is necessary in the situations of a gcownup role. What
has to be learned is generally so complex that the only efficient method
is imitation. 57 The roles also change later in life. Marriage thus asks for
always new role-contents as one gets one or more children, and as the
children grow up and leave the home. Even society itself may change in
such a way that the roles assume a different character; " In general,
however, we may regard the roles and their changes as determined within
the social system. We may also say that a particular' cultural pattern' is
expressed through the roles.
Every role implies a particular orientation to the environment, and it
is therefore a matter of course that the roles are reflected in perception.
We have already mentioned the' specialized ' perception of the car-driver,
56 P..",n, & Shih: op- cir., p. -s-
57 Par son>: op. cit. , pp- 236 ff.
53 PaIsons: op. [it p- 242.
and understand that all specialists necessarily have to develop their charac
tcristic intentional poles. The artist is no exception. Most' special ' intentions
are developed during the second phase of socialization. The mechanism
of perception, however, is built upon a foundation of general, everyday
intentions. This is due to the first phase of the socialization-process, which
may be called ' universal ' because it changes less in space and rime.
Children' s drawings are fairly similar in all parts of the world, while the
arts reflect a later adaptation to different roles and cultural objects.
ScHEMATIZATl ON
We define a schema' as a typical (stereotyped) reaction to a situation,
that is, as a typical attitude or a characteristic coherence-system of inten-
::ional poles. We understand that the schemata are formed during sociali-
radon, " and their importance is so great that we may almost put a sign
:,f equality between schema and perception." Thus we generally ascribe
:0 a man who speaks Swedish all the properties which make up our
schema Swede' ; in fact we perceive properties which may not be present,
and discover perhaps that our schema only partly ' fits' . Or rather, we
discover that our perception is wrong, as we usually are not conscious of
our schemata. When we discover that our reaction is unsatisfactory, that
:he schema does not allow a sufficient intentional depth, we are forced
: 0 revise it. The schematization therefore is a process which never comes
: 0 a close. But it is a well-known fact that our prejudices may be so strong
that we refuse to revise, and if we say that a person is ' fossilized' , it
signifies that his schematization has stopped. He has acquired a collection
of more or less primitive schemata, and has at any price to force reality
-nto them. Rather than letting the schemata go, he accepts a distorted
vi ew of reality. We cling to the schemata and are afraid of the insecurity
which would result if the world should lose its schema-bound stability.
Brunswik thus says that a certain Unbelehrbarkcit characterizes per-
ception. " Piaget reports an experiment where g-year-old children have
:0 predict how the surface of the water inside a bottle moves when the
bottle is tipped. Although the children look at the bottle when it is tipped,
:hey are unable to perceive that the surface of the water remains horizontal.
4'
~ 9 C. Cherry; On Human Communicatio",
New York &: London 1957, p. :>54. The ex-
istence of inborn schemata may be doubted.
See also J. Piaget, T h ~ Child', Conlt,UC"tion
of Rcality, London 1955.
60 Brunswik says that the cases are normal
in denen die &"genstandliche Welt wenig_
st"os ab Schema don va<:wo:ggt;0omtnen ist,
.. uod di e Wahrndunoog bloss dazu di ent
diese Kcmeukticn wirderz=rkennen. (Wah, -
"" hmung.. p. 15.)
61 Bruoswik , Wahrnchmullg.. . p. u8.
Piaget concludes that the experiment ' ... shows how poorly commonly
perceived events are recorded in the absence of a schema within which
they may be organized.' Q Any new situation demands a certain revision
of our schemata, and an active relation to the environment presupposes
such a flexibility. One of the most beautiful experiences is to meet an
elderly person who is still willing to receive impressions, and who does
not reject everything that does not not fit in with the essence of his or
her previous experience.
To ' learn to see', above all means to acquire schemata which allow
an adequate intentional depth. Thi s is apparent, for example, when one
is learning a foreign language: it is essential to learn to intend sponta
neously the meaning of the words. A language we do not know well
demands effort, because the intention of the meaning does not come
without translation. It is of course neither possible nor necessary to build
up all schemata individually. While the simplest perceptual schemata are
a result of senso-motoric activity, the higher ' schemata are, as suggested,
based upon communication of experiences and cultural traditions. If this
were not the case, our culture would never reach beyond a very primitive
stage. We assimilate experiences through the schemata, and these come
to life when we have an experience which ' fits ' . Every historical period
brings forth its characteristic schcmatizations.
The great Swiss child-psychologist Jean Piaget has given us a basic
understanding of schematization. He stresses that the first schemata are
a result of the child' s concrete operations, and not an intellectual abstraction
of the properties of things. Wittgenstein expresses this state of affairs
when he says: It is only if someone can do, has learnt, is master of,
such and such, that it makes sense to say that he has had this experience.' 6J
Thus Piaget shows that our primal schematizations are the result of
operations' such as putting things dose to each other, into each other
or after each other. 64 When the child draws a 'rounding ' and lets it
represent a thing in general, this signifies that it assimilates the things to
its schema for ' thingness'. For the child a thing is primarily something
enclosed and compact, and the rounding ' perfectly represents these
qualities. 65
52 r. Piaget &. B. Inhelder : Child' l
Conuption of London 1956, p. 388.
6J wittgensrein: PIJif. [nHlt. , p. 209.
Piagtt .. op. cir., p. 455.
R. Atnheim: Art ..nd Vi' llil f Prrpl ion,
Berkeley pp. 139 fl .
In general the schemata arc based upon similarity between phenomena.
While the objects of science are constructed through approximately objective
abstractions, the schemata result from the experience of equivalent situa-
tions and have to be understood as relatively 'impure ' objects. " In the
following we shall take a look at the schemata which mediate our physical
world of everyday life.
The first schema to be acquired is, according to Piager, ' proximity' .
Later follow among others, ' enclosure ' and ' continuity' . 'Size-constancy'
is a schema which results from the operational experience that things
maintain their size when moved. Simple gestalt qualities like elementary
geometrical figures are obviously based upon the schemata ' enclosure '
and 'continuity', while the perception of more complicated wholes, like
works of art , presuppose schemata which may only be acquired through
special traini ng. We easily perceive a melody as a totality because it belongs
to a key, whereby the single tones of the melody are experienced in their
relation to the key-schema. ' Atonal' music is generally criticized for being
. without melody' , because the key-schemata not only have lost their
organizing role, but work directly to create prejudices and hinder per
ccprion. Through instruction and through becoming accustomed, we may
acquire an adequate new schema which opens up the intended meaning. "
When we say that the schemata mediate the intended meaning, we under-
line the fundamental importance of schcmatization. The schemata are, as
mentioned, to be considered as characteristic coherence-systems of inten-
tional poles, and thus correspond to the objects which constitute our
personal world. The world is common in so far as the schemata are
common. The schemata give form to the world, because they organize
the phenomena as manifestations of objects.69 The ' constancy-phenomena ' ,
ior instance, imply that we have learned to perceive changing phenomena
as representing the same object.
The first schemata start to develop on a scnso-motoric basis from birth
on. " In a child of 7.8 months, the visual and tactile experiences of the
pn manency of things are not yet co-ordinated. Although a child of 5-6
weeks thus does not experience the things as permanent, it starts to
recognize. " As the experience of form- and size-constancy is lacking, the
recognition can only result from the child's ability to grasp topological
43
6
65 Bruo. ....ik ; Wahr" d mu" g.. ., pp. 201 ff.
67 The classical example of VOll Ehrenfeb',
therefore. presupposes the existence of pu .
tieubr ..:hemacizariom, and does not express
all eternal and nece"ary property of the
organilrn.
61 Piaget I< Inhelder : cp- cit p. +19.
69 The investigations of Piager are valid
for S....in ehildren today. and We may an ume
Ihat other civilizaticns develop different sche-
mata. Everything goes to show. however. that
the elemenury schemat:l resulting from every_
day mcroric behaviour , :are rebrivdy invariant .
;0 Piaget &; Inhelder . op. d t. p. 9.
transformations. Topology does not deal with permanent distances, angles
or areas, but is based upon relations such as proximity, separation, suc-
cession, closure (inside, outside), and continuity. 71 We may notice that the
child in this early period experiences the transformations as changu 0/
the thing itseli, and not as apparent changes due to variations in the
relation between the thing and the child. The topological schemata thus
are characterized by being to the thing, not grasping the mutual
relations between a number of things. In this way they mediate a visual
world consisting of isolated elements, and do not allow for the co-ordination
of these elements into a unified whole. The only kind of order which may
be attained is based upon the proximity-relation, and consists in a succession
of separate things. This kind of order (' collection') later develops into
the continuity-schema, when the child realizes that the proximity-operation
itself is a process which can be repeated ad infinitum. In this way the
operation is abstracted from the concrete physical things which gave birth
to it. As soon as continuity' is acquired, only a small step lacks for the
formation of schemata which determine the relations between things. The
straight line has an important function in the development of such com-
prehensive schemata. Topology docs not know the straight line, but it
forms a part of the and Euclidean systems. The straight line thus
is not given to the child a priori, nor is the tri-dimensional or Euclidean
space, which most people consider self-evident. n "Vertical-horixontal ' is
another schematization. Piaget opposes the general view that this relation
is a necessary result of our standing and walking upright. His experiments
show that the vertical-horizontal schema has to be built up through
operations with things. 7J
The or relations are neither properties of the
things nor an a priori relationship between the things and ourselves, but
schematizations on the basis that certain properties remain constant when
the viewpoint is shifted. The only property which is added to the topological
ones is that the straight lines are preserved during the transformations.
Angles and distances (proportions), however, are variable. Proportions seem
related to the 'interdependence of the parts' of the Gestalt theory, 74 The
Gestalt psychologists have clearly shown that the phenomenal relations
between the parts are a function of the whole, that is, the perception of
44
71 & Iuhelder; op. cit., p. 25.
72 See II, 2, note 15.
73 & op. cit. p. 378.
74 The word 'proportion' here means 'ratio' .
single proportions varies according to the context. Piaget also shows that
the perception of proportions is very unsteady and defective. "Strong 6
Gestalten' such as discrete, simple geometrical figures, are the only ex-
cepdons." The experience of pregnancy and Gestalt quality is therefore
primarily due to other factors than the proportions, and we have already
suggested that the basis is topological, with straight lines and defined
angles as later supplements. 76
From what has been said above, we understand that the Gestalt laws'
are relatively simple schematizations, mainly based upon the topological
schemata described by Piaget. It should also be stressed that they are not
general "Jaws' we have to obey. We can very well direct our attitude
differently than prescribed by the Gestalt schemata. And the thesis of
Gestalt psychology, that we always prefer the simplest solution, is explained
by the fact that we ' know' that a d ear order is convenient. But the need
for a simple order is not absolute, it is a well-known phenomenon that
perception often tends to oversimplify the situation. The experiences of a
characteristic property, as well as a diffuse totality or an articulated form,
arc the result of schematizations. To perceive implies that we attain a
certain order, and the chaotic is defined by shunning a satisfactory
perception.
The so-called ' constancy-phenomena' also have to be mentioned in
more detail. When we perceive a circular table, it is almost always seen
obliquely, and the projective pattern on the retina is oval. In spite of this
we experience a circular table and not an oval one. This is called "form-
constancy' , and implies that we may perceive the sameness of a thing
although its projective pattern changes. There arc of course limits to the
recognition of complicated forms. J. J. Gibson maintains that the pro-
jectional pattern must keep a kind of identity through the changes." The
projectional pattern is distorted, but certain determining structural qualities
arc retained during the distortion. We may say that the form is stretched
without bursting. As already mentioned, Piagct has shown that we learn
to perceive the sameness of things because of their topological properties.
We therefore do not have to consider the projective pattern in this context,
but a careful investigation of the limits of thing-constancy is anyway very
desirable. 78 Thing-constancy may of course also result when two (or more)
45
75 Piager I< IlIhdder: 0p. cit. , pp. 344. 364.
76 For the Gestalt laws see M.
' LaW$ of Organiz.ation in Form, ' ,
ill W. D. Ellis: A Soura Book oj Gerlall
Ptychology, London 1938.
" I. ' . Gibson: Thc PtTa ption oj t"c VUual
WOTlJ, Boston '950.
78 Th" problem is nised, but not solved in
M. lohansen: A" Introductory Study oj VoJu_
mina/ FOTm Perccption, Kob<o: nhavn.
J _
forms are mediated by the same non-topological (or mixed) schema. If we
want to describe a square, for instance, it is not enough to say that it has
four equal sides which are joined at right angles. Among other character-
istics the square also has a centre which, although invisible, may play an
important role in perception. We see that a point which is placed in this
centre acquires a completely different character from a point placed some-
where else within the square. We may conclude that the area of the
square has not a uniform character. but is structured by a 'skeleton' of
lines and points. Consequently we also understand that the form of a
figure is not only determined by its contours. The ' structural skeleton '
has to be understood as a system of simple topological and Euclidean
schemata, which in the above-mentioned case are unified in the ' square- 7
schema"." Usually we perceive a Gestalt by means of several schemata,
and the structural skeleton' is made up of the poles these schemata
encompass. In general we realize that the constancy-phenomena are of
the greatest importance, because they determine those basic principles of
composition we call' repetition' and variation ' .
One of the problems which has given the psychologists most trouble
is the so-called ' space-perception '. As long as the eye was considered a
kind of photographic apparatus, it seemed incomprehensible that the
Rat ' projectional p-attern on the retina could mediate the perception of
depth. But we have seen that perception is not a slave of the projectional
pattern. Perception aims at valid assumptions about the nature of the
environment, and it is evident that a hypothesis which organizes the
situation into a two-dimensional surface would usually lead to catastrophical
actions. It is highly necessary that the organism acquires schemata which
directly mediate a tri-dimensional world. Piaget shows that our space-
consciousness' is based upon operational schemata, that is, experiences with
things. The space-schemata may be of very different kinds, and the same
individual normally possesses more than one schema, to allow him a
satisfactory perception of diverse situations or tasks ' . The schemata,
moreover, are culturally determined. It is thus a naive simplification to
believe that the space-perceptions correspond to the objective physical space
of science. BO In daily life we usually act on the basis of direction, size and
distance, and only a particular attitude enables us to combine these phe-
79 Arnhdm reprodoces the structuul Ike-
leton ' of the square OD p. 3 in Art
pl!ruption.
110 op. cir. , pp. 3r44.
nomena into a superior space-conception. Such a space-schema in a dev-
eloped form, is capable of defining the relations between things by indica-
tions like right and left, behind and before, over and under, and also
through considering the relative sizes. The Euclidean space-schema organ-
izes such indications into a system extendi ng in all three dimensions.
The investigations of Piaget have shown that Euclidean space is a relatively
late schcmatization, which only has an unconscious behavioural character.
The experience of depth, which is the point of departure for the Euclidean
schema, stems from the topological relation that things are between each
other. Also, the perception of depth is very inaccurate and demonstrates
that phenomenal space has a non-Euclidean character. !Z Nor does Euclid-
ean space correspond to the gravitational space which' radiates' from the
globe. The ' straight' lines we imagine parallel to the surface of the earth
arc far from straight, and we understand that Euclidean space is not derived
from the physical properties of the globe.
Piaget' s experiment with the water-bottle shows that the younger chil-
dren only perceive that the water is inside, without being able to render
an account of the relation between the water and the bottle. The bigger
children also perceive the surface of the water, but imagine its relation
to the bottle as unchanged when the bottle is tipped. The water is hence
assimilated to the directions of the bottle as a schema, and although the
children su that the water-surface remains horizontal when the bottle is
tipped, they are unable to represent in a drawing this state of affairs!
Only still older children are able to assimilate the water to an 'imagined'
schema outside the bottle, i. e., the vertical-horizontal schema.
Piaget sums up his investigations wit h these words : 'It is quite obvious
that the perception of space involves a gradual construction and certainly
does not exist ready made at the outset of mental ' The
. intuition ' of space is not a 'reading ' or apprehension of the properties
of objects, but from the very beginning, an action performed on them.' M
Hence we understand that the word ' space' may denote very different
objects which may be more or less intentionally distant. In certain older
cultures, for instance, the space-conception was also determined by different
qualities assigned to the directions north, south, west and east. These
qualities were intermediary objects with religious ideas as contributing
47
Brl.lnswik empha sizes thaI a thoroughly
& velo!"d space-schema '!>"i weniger ge
bilJden :ziemlieh selten ist. E. gelingt dann
blo'l> noch einc Angak wie etwa . "so gros'
wic ein HaLl ' , " . Das Ordnung' schema Ion
, ich dann in cine Reihe mchr odcc weniger
7.uummcnh:ingcndec Ein zelvergl eicb...bjekte
auf. ' (If',,'m'ehmm'g. . . p. 199).
52 Pia/o: ct " Inhddcr: 01'. cit. , p- 441.
S, Piagct & l nhelder - 01" cit.. p. s. also
Piager: 0 1'. cit . 1'1' _ 97 fl.
S4 Piaget " Inhddcr : 0 1'. dt., p. +19.
poles, and the space-schema thus has to be described as non-homogeneous
or even discontinuous. Such ' space-conceptions' are not as unintell igible as
they may seem; we should onl y remember that our own more or less
developed Euclidean schema is also a schema, an empirically constructed
cont ribution to the intentional poles of perception, and not something
immediately given in the stimulus-situation. " Those phenomena which
are manifestations of a 'space' may be indications like ' from here to there' ,
or an experience of narr owness, openness, enclosure etc" discrete indications
with ourselves functioning as a centre. We may move the ' space-centre '
by concent rating our attention on a far object C' I put myself in your place' ),
or even by moving it into an imagination. But a more developed space-
schema is usually an object on such a high level that it escapes elucidation.
If we really try to imagine Euclidean space as uniform extension in all
directions, we discover that this is impossible. Even to imagine an infinitely
long straight line is an impossibility. We may perhaps conceioe such thi ngs,
but we cannot perceive them. Thus we have to repeat that they are human
constructions and not given a priori, Our perception of space. therefore,
can be described as always changi ng intermediary objects where our own
space-schemata function as intentional poles. S6
SCH EMA VARI ANTS
The elementary perceptional schemata which have been outlined above,
mediate a world of simple physical things. In different cultures these
schemata are ' mixed ' with more particular intentional poles with 'colour '
perception in characteristic ways. In our western culture we distinguish
strictly between living and inanimate objects, and we pursue intentions
where the invariant physical properties of things are the main goals. We
usually try to ' understand ' the situation, and our perception becomes
diffuse and unsatisfactory if the stimulus does not fit our simple categories,a1
' Primitive' man behaves in a completely different way. All things are
spontaneously experienced as animated and living. Such a 'physiognomic'
or ' magic' perception intends the 'expression' of things. In our culture
we only experience other persons in this way. sa Anthropomorphism ' is
a particular type of physiognomic perception, where human characteristics
15 See H. War=: : "Raum und Zeit in den
Urformen der Kiinste ' , in Jur
,,,,J
1931.
106 The Gestall psycbologim hau: u ied to
explain t he perception of space by of
me projectional pa.rtem and t he ' Gestalt laws' .
Kotfka oj Gm alt Plyrhology, New
York 1935, p. 166) sap: ' When simple sym-
metry is aehievable in two dimensions, we
.hall ,ee a plane figure; if it require, three
dimen,ionl , t hen we shall see a solid.' We
know , however, that simp le symmetrical
figure .are usually two-di mensional, and we
also know that it uhs tr aining 10 perceive
represcnut ion. of solid. :I'l
tri-dimensional. A child or a bushman does
nut experience Koffka's figure of a rube as a
ru be. aDd we must conclude that the dra wing
does flO{ release a spHiai per-
ception ; il only has this effect when the
perceiving individual possesses the adequate
schemat a. Th is implies th.lt our Khemata
shih to three dimensions when a two-di-
mensional ' hypot hesi. ' offen;:l low probability
8 for a corrt perception.
87 A common comment when looking at
modern abstract art, is that one does not
,wdn-sland anyt hing. What is requi red , how_
ever, il all adequate experience,
38 ' Wir diirfe ll abet nie vergessen, da",
dese Art des Erlebnisses, heute auf einen
kleincD Teil der g<:gemtindlicllen Welt be-
5Chrinkl . tina urtiiml iehen Fassungswel..:
enutammt , in der di e ganz.c Welt ausdrucks-
m.issig, gesicllthaft . lebcnd ig war.' H. Werner :
"{umhen t9S3., pp.
1, also pp. 259 fl.
are read into everything. Schematizations resulting from experiences with
other human beings arc employed as more general intentional poles.
Another kind of intermediary object which still is very important, and
in primitive man basic, results from the confusion of different sense-
modalities. A well-known case of this ' synaesthesia ' is the seeing of
colours on hearing music. In the old Chinese culture the colours were
attached to different realms of objects and properties, and the Zuni-Indians
assign a colour to each of the main directions. !9 Child-psychology shows
that early experiences usually have a synaesthetic character, and when we
as grown-ups say that a thing ' looks heavy and soft ', we still perceive
synaesthetic phenomena.
The intention of the 'expression ' means that the 'feelings ' come to
dominate perception. The feelings, however, arc not mystical qualities
which exist independently of the objects. They also have to be described
. in terms of objects' , and are to be understood as a particular kind of
intermediary object where' values ' (or cult ural objects in general) ' colour '
the situation. i/O No perception is in reality completely free from an emo-
t ional content ; it is only in the laboratory of the psychologist that we
can isolate those pure schcmatizations which have been mentioned above.
In our culture, though, it is typical that we consider the pure objects as
our ideal goals." Primitive man, instead, structures the world according
:0 the emotional relationships to things." He does not, as we do, intend
:he more invariant propert ies of things, and his world becomes unstable
and variable. The same things have a different character according to the
context where they appear;" In spite of the changeable environment of
primitive man, his culture may be labelled revolution-free' . ~ To survive
he is dependent upon an immutable soddy of which he forms an integral
?art.9$ Children, too, from an early stage of development, show the same
aeed for fixed rules; " In both cases the concept of order expresses itself
as the determining condition for all human behaviour, and at the same
r ime we recognize the need to cling to any acquired order. Th is can give
perception the character of d(!enc( rather than the collection of information.
The perceptive variants outlined above are not accidental, but result
irom concrete experiences. They represent possible organizations of reality,
.... nd their development in the individual is determined by cultural, social.
49
39 In China the eolour ~ ( I / i. correlated
wilh : bird, warmth, biner n=; while gu m
g ~ with : dugno. wind and scumess. See
Waner : op. cit., pp. 61 fl .
90 Th is mnns that FJ1ieular feelin" are
not connected with Ihe things II priori; in
other words. the qlL1.l itia :ore culturally
determinai .
91 Accordingly art and rd ig>on are steadily
losing their import ance in modern soxiety.
92 See Waner : op. cit . p. 171.
9) ' Ein Fiji- Mann sagt einem Fot Kher':
" Ein Ding hat Knit - mana _ wenn es
in Tiligkeil i,, ; n hat kein mana, wenn es
nkhl arbeiter. . W"mer: op. cit . ""8) .
9-l Werner: op. cir., pp. 259 fl.
!n We cannot say thaI the ' Wehbild ' of
primitive man is les, 'corrce! ' than our owo.
It is true that he doc, not master his surround-
ing' satisfactorily , as hi. ability of ebureaion
" very limited. He is therefore unable to
define the bcron (objects) which should be
ronttoll ed. lIul neither is our own 3Julytiellt
or pseudc -analyrical . ni rude vcry close to life.
because il omits relevant nu:lllJX"! and does not
reach s)nthetical conclusions. .o\ n adequate
conduct must be based upon me ability .of
d,ll"g;"g the attitude acconling 10 the Au/-
g,,/;>" of the situat ion.
96 Werner : op. eil. pp. Il6 ff .
and personal factors, 91 On the other hand, we can within any culture
recognize characteristic errors of perception. These may follow from an
insufficient organization of the situation due to the lack of appropriate
schemata, or from the employment of wrong schemata. The last case often
presents itself as trompe-l' oeil or as a confusion of Sein und Schein (we
marry the girl because of her beauty).
THE IN THE
The psychology of perception teaches us to refuse naive realism. The world
' is' not as it immediately appears to each of us. We always have to take
intc consideration that our perceptions may be superficial or even wrong.
Any situation in which we have to participate is perceived in relation to
our previous experiences. This means that we organize the situation accord-
ing to our perceptual schemata. And we have seen that the schemata are
only common on a fairly low, everyday level. If we put a modern sportsman
in from of one of Michelangelo' s slaves, he 'integrates ' it in his world
by saying : 'a man of stone'. We become what we do, and We do what
we are. 91
Our perceptions are, as we have seen, intermediary objects, The stimulus-
situation usually offers many possibilities for the choice of intentional poles,
and often We ourselves contribute decisive poles which are not to be found
in the external situation. Thi s happens for instance when a bank-note looks
larger than a piece of paper of the same size, For everyone of us particular
stimuli will be connected with particular coherence-systems (schemata)
durin g. the process of perception. We can also express thi s by saying that
a particular stimulus produces parti cular expectations. In most cases the
same stimulus will give rise to several different expectations, among which
one is of particular intensity. If a man talks Swedish, we expect that he
is a Swede, although we might also believe with a certain degree of prob-
ability that he is a compatriot who wants to fool us. Thus we spontaneously
perceivc a Swede when he opens his mouth. We sec and hear what we
expect, and in this way the given stimulus becomes meaningful, We per-
ceive the stimulus as a manifestation of an intermediary object, in our
example the schema' Swede' , and everything this implies of positive and
5
9i We can of course imagine' 'impossible '
organb<at ions, such as a schema which m3kcs
us cJtpericncc ma"ivc stones a, 'light' . '1m
pn..iblc' organizations posse" a ", i" i",u m of
probability (or giving us 3ny valid infcrmaucn
300ut reality. Thc schcmal3 of primitivc man
rubfrcriuly posse.. 3 minimum of ]>T"Olhility
foe being adcqU3te. U bIer h3ppeninp . how
thae they fail , thc C)' cs :lI"C u,ually d osed 10
this b et.
98 ' lcb bin mcinc Welt '. WitlgcnSlcin :
TractaJl<l 5.63.
negative propert ies. Every time our perception is unsatisfactory, we should
have to revise our expectations and make new schematizations. We can
only enlarge our world in this way. 99 The objects thus represent and
mediate each other, at the same time as they form totalities which are
something more' than the sum' of their components. An object is
defined through certain objective properties. But we rarely react to these.
We do not react to the weight or shape of a cushion, but perceive it as
something to sit upon. We thus react to relations between objects, to
changing phenomenal conditions.
The schemata, as we have understood, arc "habits of perception' which
have become established in such a way that they acquire the character of
. quasi-objects". They possess a lower degree of objectivity (stability) than
zhe concepts of science, but may in spite of this be common to a more or
.ess extensive collectivity. A 'way of life' is rather characterized by such
common quasi-objects than by contemporary scientific theories. The world
mediated by a more or less ' public' perception therefore diverges from
:he system of pure objects of science. It is characterized by Roating transi-
:ions and an infinity of shades. A descriptive analysis of this phenomenal
world, however, can only be carried through in terms of the pure objects.
Our environment can only be described "vom Gegenstand her' , and the
-rganism is characterized by the objects which are accessible to it. 100 We
.hould be careful, however, not to form a belief that perception and science
mediate two (or more) worlds. What is said above only refers
-o different representations of the same world. Science is based upon the
-riterion of objectivity, and therefore offers us common standards. The
: aly possible type of description is the scientific one, but we have not done
with the world in having described it. 101
5'
99 II. C,nrril : 'Why' of man's E;>; -
pcricncc, Princeton r950. p- 128.
100 Rrumwik b" worked out , very inler_
e. ting di.:l.gr,m for tbe description of tbe
relationship between the organi<m :In<! die
environment . See Brunswik: ' The Concept ual
Focus of Syems', in Marx : op. cit., p. 132.
101 Tbi. is probably wbat Wittgenstein im-
plies when he Soays: ' Ich bin abo der Mcin-
ung. die Probleme im We.entlichen entgiil tig
gelo.t zu haben. Und ....enn ich micb nichr
hlerin ere, 50 besteht der Wen diC$CJ: Arbcil
",weiten. darin . dau sie u;gt. wie 'wenig
darnit gct:ID ist , dass diese Problemc gelOsi
sind.' (Introduction 10 Tr iJCtdlus .)
2. Symbolization
OBJECT AND DESCRl mON
Our actions presuppose an organization of the environment. This organiza-
tion consists, as we have seen, in abstracting objects from the immediately
given phenomena. I The objects, or the form we assign to the world, are
expressed in our behaviour. But we have also suggested that for many
purposes it is necessary to fix the objects by means of signs, so that they
may be talked about, described and ordered into systems. " The more
complex and differentiated the environment becomes, the more we shall
need a large number of r; symbol-systems' which allow for co-operation
and fellowship.
We can only describe order, because every description aims at the
demonstration of similarities. The objects are the order or form of realit y.
The phenomena arc immediately given with form, as manifestations of
objects, and this form is their meaning. This does not imply that the
objects cause the phenomena. The phenomena have no causes, but appear
(present themselves) in a certai n order . The meaning of the phenomenon
is the context in which it appears. We thus understand that ' phenomenon'
and ' object ' are two aspects of the same matter. We abstract the most
invariant properties of the phenomena and call them objects.
We can only describe the phenomena in terms of objects because we
can only describe similarities (relations) between phenomena, or structure, J
.\ny description, any science, therefore, has to be "vom Gegenstand her ' . 4
.\ 'phenomenological' description is an illusion, as it necessarily has to
classify the phenomena, that is, it has to be carr ied out in terms of objects.
It is not as a matter of fact evident how the phenomena should be classified,
as the phenomena may have several properties in common. We could, for
instance, classify according to colour, and give the same designation to
53
1 ~ P i ~ ~ "" Inhddu: op. cit., p. 11.
1 The wocd describe" here m e ~ m 10render
an objective account of something.
J The word. ' ordcc' , 'form ' , and '.r.ruc-
ture' are u..w as 'plO!I}"IItl.
4 Brun.wik : W..hrm-hm""g.. . !"'1S;m.
a Chinese and a yellow cheese. Although this example seems exaggerated,
it often happens that we classify according to conspicuous, but superficial
similarities. Under the pressure of new experiences, however, we will have
to discard inconvenient classifications. Thus we no longer divide the
material things into the 'substances' (objects) earth, air, fire and water.
but order them according to atomic numbers.
5
The demand for efficient
classifications means that we are trying to obtain an order of a certain
durability (invariance), which is ' objective' and common. " In describing,
it is of fundamental importance to choose the most suitable objects of
comparison, or "dimensions" The objects, thus,
arc neither accidental nor given a priori, but constructed to serve particular
purposes. We say that our world of objects is false if it does not coincide
with our experiences, that is, if it does not permit correct predictions.
' Closeness to life' or 'suitability' are therefore characteristics of objects
which do not lead to conflicts.
The objects may be arranged into systems which describe the world.
In classical mechanics, for instance, the concepts' space', time', mass',
morernent ", velocity' , and acceleration' are defined through their
functional interrelations. This corresponds to the fact that the phenomena
do not appear in separation, but connected with each other. By means of
systems of interrelated concepts this state of affairs can be described and
empirical 'laws' established. a Magical' laws, such as the influence of
ritual on the weather, may be considered a primitive form of science which
has to be discarded when experience shows that its assumpt ions are wrong.
Science can only test its empirical inductions through new experiences
(experiment s). Scientific theories, therefore, are always hypotheses about
reality, and only practical experiences can decide if they are appropriate.
Science orders the experiences into an objective and invariant world of
objects. In this way the experiences of others arc also made available to
serve as a basis for our actions in a common world.
When we describe a phenomenal complex, we therefore have to intro-
duce a suitable number of interrelated objects which serve as dimensions
of comparison. Thus we describe the position of a point in Euclidean spaee
by means of 3 co-ordinates. The co-ordinate-system is an abstract construe-
tion not to be found in nature, but which, thanks to its logical form,
54
5 v. F. Lenzen: oj
Sciena. Chicago 1938, pp. 3' If.
6 Willi"m ' "mn said thaI il is One of ,he
basic iOlercsls of man not to cOOlradict
himsdf.
Brumwik: Wah,.,.,ch""mg.. pam",.
8 Panons Shih: op. cir., pp. 51) If.
has shown itself very practicable. It may also happen that we describe
another phenomenon by means of 3 dimensions of a completely different
kind, as for instance a colour as a product of three precisely defined 'colour-
objects' (e. g. hue, saturation, intensity). We may very well say that our
colour is defined in a tri-dimensional 'space' , but this space of course has
nothing to do wit h a Euclidean space. The type and number of the
dimensions are chosen according to their suitabilit y, and it would be a
fundamental misunderstanding to read any ' number-mysticism ' into this
state of affairs. We therefore have to reject statement s saying that' the
world is five-dimensional ' or that modern painting is based upon
the four Einsteinian dimensions' . 9 The success of a scientific investigation
depends upon the suitability of the dimensions chosen. It is just as wrong
to divide everything into subordinate bits as to support an oversimplifying
-totaliry-view". In the last case we would ' freeze ' the world into a few
arbitrary and static categories, a tendency which has been rather common
in recent science and philosophy.
Jean Piaget has shown that the child' s adaptation to its environment
takes place by means of ,; experimentation '. By handling thi ngs, by always
new operations, the child forms an idea of the relevant similarities and
dissimilarities, in other words, it attains knowledge of objects. This develop-
ment is usually accompanied by a linguistic education. 10 The child thus
builds up its world through senso-motoric operations. " Science, therefore,
is nothing but an accurate and systematic continuat ion of the activities
of daily life. Both daily life and scientific work are based upon insight
into the lawful patterns of our experiences. Any action would be im-
possible if we did not know that things are (relatively) permanent , and
that we may expect a certain ' behaviour ' from them. In daily life we
base our actions upon conscious or unconscious hypotheses about what will
happen if we behave in a certain way, while science constructs experiments
to verify its hypotheses. 13 A scientific law, therefore, has the purpose of
making the prediction of future occurrences possible, but as it is always
the result of a limited number of observations, it docs not offer full secur ity.
A law is never absolute, but has only a higher or lesser degree of proba-
bility. " Th is does not imply that science no longer aims at objectivity.
A statistical law is just as concrete and objective as an absolute law. 15
55
9 A characterist ic book litle : 11 0", E1:-
il/( na Fh'c-JimClll iolla/? (F. Okland, Osln
1949)
10 op_ cit.. paim.
II The 'straight thus. is a
result of the oper at ion 'to ar'.
Lenzen: 01'. cit. , p- 110.
Il J- JOrgensen : Illak J"inK til Logikefl 0e
1942. 1'1'_ ,6If.
14 V. Kraft : lkr Wiefler Kreis, Wien 1950.
p. 13i
15 H. Reichenbach - Vcr Aujl/l-"e a",
wil lMSdlllf tlidUfl PAilol0pAic. Berli n ' 95' .
pp. 184 fl. The term ' hypothesis' uow.l1y
theory whoor probability OO( yet
heen The t CllIl ' law'. in>lead.
should bo, reserved for th'""lries which f'O'oo,
hiW! empirical In p.1ot the
laws of hm the o(
hnlOl:ht'CS' , UUt i" "'mmption.
u iSiena of I:Iwo. Tod"y we regard
the I:Iwl (the objects) as prob:o.biliry hypo-
theses', Th i, .u!e of :Iff"irs. ho"'c>-cr. is
hJrd ly known by {he who reg;trdl
the Iawo :lS abwlute mnh. To SlIp-
port the hypothelis of "n "bwlme or self-
truth one point. to mathematics.
which certainly does not admit :my
tainl y'. hnwe.. io a purdy
J nJlycic :Ktivity. This is illustr ated by the
development of The non-Euclidean
geometries just :IS as the
and play an important role in
pl1,.. i, . . Euclidean geometry, and
io tl1crcfore, do not
cxprels any II prio"; prol"' n ies of our world.
(See H. MeKhkow.ki: IVa" dl,mKc" m,,
De"l(e"l, Braunschweig ' 956. al",
I. Dic zritgenOl1irchen Defll(-
Ik rn '954 . PI'. 122 fl. ) Mathe-
matics is oot found io oature, b UI is con.
structed bv man to help describing
Th erc is o'o!hiog mystical about fact th aI
SOme natural fnrms cao b.: described by meanS
of simple numerical rdations.
Scientific laws are therefore not to be understood as rules which nature
must obey; rather are they rules we have to follow if we want to adjust
ourselves to the environment. In general we may say that science aims at
describing as pure objects as possible. It abstracts from the immediately
given phenomena for this purpose, and overlooks all finer shades for the
benefit of a univocal order.
Ir is convenient to divide our environment into l physical ' , social '
and cultural ' objects. 16 Together, these make up ' the world ' . The classes
of objects are logically interrelated. The cultural objects (ideas, works of
art etc.) are known through their-social or physical manifestations, 11 while
social objects are known through the study of behaviour (physical manifes-
tations). The physical objects, finally, are known through observation, and
may be reduced to sense-data or phenomena. Th is docs not imply that
the higher objects ' consist of' the lower ones; it is a matter of course that
a cultural object is different from and something' more' than its physical
manifestations. IS But it is important to notice that the higher objects are
known through the lower ones, and that statements about the higher ones
may be controlled by means of statements about the lower ones. The world
can be considered a polyphonic pattern of chains of objects belonging to
different levels.
The division into physical, social and cultural objects corresponds to
the division of labour in science. Taken together these classes of objects
make up a suitable system of dimensions for the purpose of studying
human actions and products. A study of architecture must also be built
upon this foundation.
SYMBOL AND SEMIOTIC
On the basis of discriminations and operations we construct our world
of objects, and we give names to the objects. A name does not designate
a phenomenon (an experience), but a particular class of similarities between
phenomena. The name is of course a purely conventional sign, it is freely
chosen on the basis of a common agreement. Our language therefore is
both a necessary expedient and an obstacle to the creation of a coherent
world. It has a tendency to ' freeze' obsolete classifications. This tend-
16 Parsons : op. cit., p. 4. C;Irn;Ip: op. cit.,
t;Ilks ;Ibout ' phpische ', 'f remd-psjchiscbe ",
and 'geistige'
17 Cun;Ip: op. cit. , pp. 30, ';6.
18 CMn;Ip: op. cit., p. 69.
19 'Si gns have t he power to select respomes
in people'. Cherry: op. cit., p. :14].
ency is often hidden behind the term ' common-sense ' . In our changing
and always more complex world this has often led to dangerous and
unnecessary conflicts. Just as the scientist has to give his concepts an ever
higher degree of precision, we arc also forced to do the same in our daily
life and our work. We have all experienced how political propaganda,
in particular, suffers from a meaningless use of language , and we have
ment ioned that this also holds true for the architectural debate.
Many attempts have been made to dear up this situation. The most
basic insight into the problem is due to operationalism". One has simply
asked the question: 'under what concrete circumstances are we allowed
to usc a particular word ?' 20 The purpose of putting this question is to
find a method whieh may establish the contact between the words (the
objects) and our immediate experiences. According to traditi onal philo-
sophy the words represent' ideas' whi ch have an absolute existence inde-
pendently of our experience. 21 Modern science, however, has been forced
to realize that the meaning of the words lies in the relationship between
language and experience. A term is defined relative to the situations where
it is employed. Instead of imagining an absolute reality mediated by the
words, a reality which will always run into conflicts with the forces of
.:hange, we have to look upon language as a flexible tool corresponding
:0 an objective (but not absolute) world of changing empir ical objects.
An ' operational definit ion ' , therefore, consists in telling how a concept
.s used, and we recognize the correspondence with Piaget' s investigations
: ,0 the formation of concepts. 22 Compl etely carri ed through, the operational
method attempts [ 0 reduce all statements to the simplest possible operations
elementary experiences), such as pointing at a thing and saying its name.
This means that the objects arc defined by the operations which have
ciade us know them.
Language is a symbol-system. A symbol-system has to be constructed
.J. such a way that it easily adapts itself to regions of the object world.
"his adaptation is possible by means of a common logical form. n "Sym-
colization' therefore means a representation of a state of affairs in another
-tediurn by means of structural similarity . The world of objects is very
. omplex and varied, and we need a large number of different symbol-
rrstcms to 'describe ' it. Where language fails, mathematics has shown
57
lQ R. Catnap: ' Logical Foundations of t he
Unity of in Sncyclopcdia and Un;.
firJ Scir1lu , 1937, p. 49
21 Hcidegger, for as""tlS that the
word 'nothing' denoles a particularly mystic.ill
essence.
22 The concept of is in terms
of lhe operations we me to a length.
13 In Trll(liltut st,ltes: ' Wir
machen uILS Biklcr dec Tatoachen.' (a. l ) ' Da.
Bild ist ein dcr Wirklichh it. (a.u)
Das Bild k.mn Wirklichkeir
dcren Form es hat .' (a.I71) ' Das Bild In wie
(i n Mamab an die Wirklichkcit angelegt.
(a.15u ).
itself to be very , useful. The arts are also symbol-systems, and we will
later render an account of their roles. In general we may say that each
symbol-system has a different 'capacity of symbolization', which is defined
in terms of the objects it can Certain ' forms ' (sign-complexes)
arc better fitted for receiving certain 'contents ' than others. This corre-
spondence, however. is not univocal. Any form is usually capable of receiv-
ing varying contents within certain limits. A complex content may also
through convention be represented by a simple form. In this way, however,
we do not create any symbol-system . The nation, for instance, may be:
analyzed as a system of properties, but the flag cannot be submitted to a
corresponding analysis. The flag, therefore, does not form part of a class
of symbols which is able to represent the properties of the nation. A symbol-
system has to consist of elementar y symbols signifying the elementary
properties of the higher objects. This implies that it needs articulation
(differentiation) to be able to treat the higher objects. The Rag is ' banal'
because its content , is determined once for all. In the same way the
elementary parts of the symbol-systems are banal. But they may be: used
to form a totality which is not banal. When, for instance, we hoist the
flag on our national day, the flag becomes a part of a larger whole and
we perceive it as a manifestation of certain fundamental qualities of the
nation. It is important that a symbol-system does not contain contradictions.
If we happen to contradict ourselves because of inner confusions in the
symbol-system, we will have to improve it. We may therefore conclude
that our concepts only possess meaning within a logically coherent language.
] ust as the phenomena are defined by the context in which they appear,
a sign has only meaning within a system. A meaning, therefore, is always
a relation. Culture is based upon the development of symbol-systems which
can keep and spread experiences. 24 It is characteristic that the first stable
culture in Sumer (before 5000 B. C.) was made possible by the use of
pictures, written language, and architecture. 25
We can study the logical construction of a symbol-system without
taking its relationship to reality into consideration. Such a study is purely
formal and is called ' syntactics'. 26 Mathematics and logic are examples
of purely formal sciences which only treat their own inner coherence and
articulation. A syntactical investigation of a symbol-system, therefore, only
Z. Parsons: op. cit . p. 11.
25 Sec w. DiU "<rIJ
;m alun Berlin
1930, p. 44
l/i Carnap : Logical. .. , p. 13.
studies t/lC relations between jzg11S, and does not tell us anything about
reality. It is "empty"; "
But we may also investigate: the relations between the signs and reality,
and return then to our operational definitions, or what is often called
' semantics'. The operational definitions arc also known as "semantical
rules' . Semantics treats the relations between the sign and its designatum."
We have already suggested that a symbol-system influences its users.
The study of this fact has been called' pragmatics' (Morris). Pragmatics
treats the relations between the sign and those who use it, and thus com-
prises all the psychological and sociological factors which parti cipate as
intentions and reached goals.
Charles Morris unifies all the three aspects, syntactics, semantics, and
pragmatics in his ' Theory of Signs' or "semiotic": " Semiotic is itself a
symbol-system, a language to talk about signs' .
30
In its three ' dimensions'
semiotic aims at understanding the 'rules ' for the use of signs. It is not
necessary to be conscious of the rules to be able to usc a symbol-system,
but the rules represent the forms we have to employ to apreS$ ourselres
in a meaningful way. Morris stresses the fact that the three dimensions
are interrelated. The syntactical organization of a symbol-system is a
function of the purposes it has to serve (it must for instance be constructed
in such a way that it might become common), although it also has its
independent pattern consistency' . 31 The pragmatic effect is correspond-
ingly a function of the semantical dimension. The meaning of a sign is
compk td y described by indicating its three semiotical aspects. The meaning,
therefore, is not something which has to be 'added to ' the semiotical
description. 12 Neither is it, as is often maintained, something purely private
or subjective. By means of semiotic, 'meaning' can be studied objectively. "
The rules for the use of signs arc in daily life rarely formulated in an
exact way, rather they have the character of habits or tradition. 34
Semiotic sums up the efforts of science in a simple formula, and Morris
concludes: Indeed, it does not seem fantastic to believe that the concept
of sign may prove as fundamental to the sciences of man as the concept
of atom has been for the physical sciences or [he concept of cell for the
biological sciences.' l5
59
27 The synto<:tical investigations of Carnap
.how that our language posse'ses a gre.>t
number of .emetlees which apparently express
facts. but which in reali!)' arc ' empty' or
' tautological' . Such sentences arc neither uue
nor la be, because dley only express linguistic
habits. (5 R. Carnal' : Loghrhe Synlax dN'
Sf'T<IC'he, w te- '934).
U Sec S. S. Steven. : Psychology and (he
Scicoce of Sciencc', in Marx : 01'. cir., p. 50.
29 Sec: C. :\{orri" Foundations of the Throry
of Signs, Chicago 1938.
30 We have seen that dl e oigM form sys-
tems.
31 Parsons: op. cit., pp. IS fl .
12 Semiotic docs not r est: upon a t heory of
" meaning" , dle term "mCllning" is ra dle! 10
be: defined in me terms-of semiotic. ' (Morris:
01'. eil. p. t+.)
33 Morris : op. cit. p. 47.
3'l Morri1: 01'. cit., p. 23.
35 :\Iorr is; op. cit., p. +1.
Till now our language has been the main subject-matter of semiotic.
but lately we have also started to investigate visual and auditive signs, such
as diagrams, images. traffic-signs and works of art. 36
CoMMUNICATION AND INFORMATI ON
So far we have defined the purpose of the signs as the description of
experiences or objects. This, of course. has the ulterior purpose of creating
a basis for human 'communication' and co-operation. Through commun-
ication we get information which serves our behaviour." In general, infor-
mation is gained either through direct perception or by means of com-
munication between individuals. We have under stood that any perception
(of a message) consists in grasping an order or structure. But we have
also seen that perception and communication are only possible under
certain conditions. The main presupposition is that we can interpret signs,
in other words. that we know the symbol-systems that are employed. When
a sign is presented to us, or when we use it ourselves, we expect particular
consequences. We may say that we have attained a of expectations",
A particularly important part of this system is Alter's possible reactions to
our own behaviour. " Communication, therefore, is based upon common
symbol-systems which are attached to common behavioural patterns or
forms of life'.
Within a symbol-system a single sign may be connected with several
others with varying degrees of probability. If a sign is followed by one
whose appearance in this place within the system has a maximum degree
of probability, in other words, if our expectation is completely correct,
we do not get any new information because we know in advance what
is going to happen. The message is ' banal' . If, on the contrary, the sign
is attached to another one whose appearance in this place has no probability
whatsoever, it is impossible' for us to perceive any coherence or order, and
the message becomes meaningless. We thus understand that a meaningful
message presupposes the use of symbol-systems which are connected with
systems of expectations, and that the message has to contain a certain
moment of surprise, without breaking completely with the expectation. '!Q
60
36 Cherry: op. cit., p. 306, deflnes 'lign'
in rhi, way: ' ... a rransmin ion or
by which one organism the behaviour
Or su re of another-. in a communication
. "
31 ' Communication ren<kn true life
practicable, foe cornmunialion aqp ni-
:ution. Communication h3. enabled rhe
lOCi al unil In grow, from the village to the
lown , 10 tbe modern ciry.ure, u nli] we
today Itt org=i=d systems of mUIu.al de-
pendence grown 10 cover t he whole hemi -
sphere. ' (Cherry: op. cit ., p. i )
38 Pan OM: op. cit., p. 5.
19 Cherry : ep- cit. p. 6.
'!Q Cherr y: op. cit ., pp. 13 fl .
Information reacts on the expectations, that is to say. new experiences
demand a more or less thorough revision of our world of objects.
This may be called the pragmatic effect ' of the information, or in the
terminology of information theory : ' feedback' . ~ l In general. feedback
means that the organization of a mechanism is regulated by its achieve-
ment. If the performance is not satisfactory, the mechanism will have
to undergo a change. Similarly, our expectations will have to be revised
if they do not allow appropriate predictions. Feedback-control is built
into several machines, and the .human organism possesses self-regulating
physiological mechanisms such as the automatic control of the body
temperature. To learn, and to adjust oneself to the environment in general,
must be considered a feedback.process.
42
Any human product is thus a tool', serving the purpose of bringing
order into our environment , and all these tools have to possess a particular
logical form to manage their task. Non-verbal communi cation is just as
dependent upon a structured symbol-system as verbal communication.
Whether we employ gestures, other kinds of actions, images or sounds,
these have to be ordered and connected with a system of expectations to
be meaningful. Cherry thus considers form as the main common denomi-
nator of science and art. H
ABSTllACT10N AND CONCRETI ZATION
So far we have mainly discussed scientific description, but we have also
suggested the existence of symbol-systems which serve other types of
communication. Science takes care of one particular kind of symbolization.
It aims at giving as exact and objective descriptions of reality as possible,
and it is abstracting because it divides the world into ' pure' elements
which are organized into systems. oK The signs employed by science repre-
sent pure objects, that is, objective situations. We have seen that the
abstraction of objects is a presupposition for all kinds of behaviour, and
thus understand that science is a continuation of one of the aspects of
daily life. But in daily life our attitudes change, and perception has only
rarely the pure objects as its goal. Instead it grasps diffuse intermediary
objects which surely may be analyzed, but which as immediately given
61
~ l Cherry : op- clr., Pp- 56, 248.
42 Cherry : op: cit . p. 250.
U Cherry: op. cir., P 7' .
+I Morris describes the purpose of seieaee
~ s a mapping of the structure of the ex_
i.te ntial'. (C. Morr;, : Science. An ;lnd
Technology'. The Ke"JO" Review 1939)
totalities are of such a nature that language: offers no words for them.
The perception of a tree, for instance, is not equivalent to a scientific
description of the tree, and an analytic ' explanation' of a poem does not
replace the direct experience of the poem, any more than a description
of an experience is the same as a poem about this experience. If the last
statement is correct, the poem must be understood as a symbolization of
a kind different from the scientific description. But before we investigate
this problem more thoroughly, we have to say something more about the
relationship between description-and the concretely given phenomena.
While our perceptions are always conditioned by attitudes, science tries
to be independent. Or rather, it prescribes a particular analytic attitude.
This attitude is basic to what we call thought. Thought aims at a security
which perception does not offer. To arrive at this security thought has to
abstract, that is, to order into categories and to overlook the finer shades.
Thought is not, like perception, based upon schematization; " although
it employs schematic concepts, and it is therefore the only reliable tool
for the construction of an ordered, objective world of objects. In complex,
concrete situations demanding quick decisions thought , on the contrary,
is handicapped. It is too slow and does not spontaneously grasp the relevant
intermediary shades. For this purpose, perception is a much better tool.
Perception is more flexible, but less reliable. Thought is (approximately)
exact, but clumsy and bureaucratic, while perception is uncertain and
spontaneously ' ingenious' . 46 Thought works slowly and makes conscious
all the mediating objects which are ' swallowed' in a satisfactory per
ceprion. In contrast to the exact measurements' 0f thought, perception
employs more or less trustworthy assumptions. Some objects can only be
attained through thought, as for instance all the pure constructs of science.
These objects are not to be: experienced. Their purpose is to form a basis
for thinki ng. Other object-complexes, on the contrary, arc not accessible
to thought, because they fall apart during analysis, and have to be: expe-
rienced directly. In our time the scientific attitude has come to dominate
in such a way that many find it incomprehensible that man also tries to
develop symbol-systems which aim at representing the world in another
way than through analytical description. 4' Strangely enough, it is science
itself which has brought forth an ever stronger reaction against this one-
45 Bru nswik : W.."mrAmu"g... p. ::' 23.
46 BrullSwik : W"......rhm..", .... p. ll3. If
we want to understand the mood of another
penon, a glance at hi. fil(;e may be enough.
..-hereas a p'y<hological invenigation would
lake :l very long time, and perhaps never
reach irs goal.
47 Today an is often considered an ' un-
necessary luxury ' . and religion is rejected
because it docs ncr offcr a 'scientifically cor-
reel' picture of [he world . Our schools arc
oac-sidcdly oriented lowardJ the collection
of ' knowledge '.
sided scientistic attitude. As we have seen above, the psychologists have
shown that the analytical attitude is only one among an infinite number
of possible attitudes, and that it necessarily fails in man)" situations. The
sociologists, for their part , have shown that society needs symbol-systems
which can mediate ethical and aesthetic ' contents ' , '" and semiotic, finally,
has taught us that language may be used in several basically different ways
which all fulfil important functions within the process of interaction. 49
A preliminar y classification of the symbol-systems may be based upon
the realization that both our behaviour and the things we use, ' express'
something about ourselves. Other persons are generally able to understand if
we are happy or angry, and usually our dwellings have a personal touch' .
It is therefore convenient to distinguish between ' sign language' , ' action
language' and 'object language' . 50 The terms may be discussed, as all
the three ' types of language' make use of signs, but the classification is
in any case interesting. We understand that different kinds of phenomenal
totalities are important to man, and that he develops corresponding ' tools '
to handle them. Science alone does not give us a complete picture of our
world of perceptions and actions. While the phenomena make up a poten-
tially continuous universe, the objects may be compared to a grid ' with
defined points and relations between the point s, but containing large
holes' . This docs not mean that we are forced to attempt non-scientific
descriptions. Although it surely is possible to describe a non-scientific
symbol-system (e. g. theories of art), this description of course does not
substitute the direct usr of the non-scientific symbol-system. What we need
are non-descriptive symbol-systems which are able to relieve the one-
sidedness of science. 51
The distinction between symbols which' describe' and express ' is not
new. Already Plato mentioned' the old quarrel between poetry and phi-
losophy' , and later the problem has come up over and over again. We
find it in Henri Bergson' s distinction between' intellectual' and ' intuitive'
cognition (understanding), and Ogden and Richards introduce the terms
referential' and ' emotive' . ' 2 A more fruitful handling of the problem
has become possible through sociology and semiotic, and in our opinion
Brunswik's concept of intermediary object offers the key to the core of
the matter. The basic characteristic of a non-descriptive symbol-system is
43 We will return to Parsonl' distinction
bet ween ' belief systems' and ' expresli ve sys
terns' ,
49 Morr u lists 16 differmt rypes of dis.
coune ' . (See C. Morr u : Sig'u. L a n g " " ~ and
lk"a riO' , New York 1946, p. u5)
50 An in,piting introduction to the problem
ir given in J. Ru=h &; W. Kef:' : No"v"Nl
Comm"niario". Berkeley 1956.
51 In otha word.: ' in Satz hnn nur
sagen, wie cin Ding ist , nicht . wa, es ist. ,
(Wittgenstein : TradatlU 3.221)
52 T"e Meani"g 01 Mea"ing. Lcndcn 1923.
A corresponding classification is found in
S. Langer : P"j/Mop"y i" a Nrw Key, Cam-
bridge 1941, whae . he r:a1ks about 'discursive
and presentational symbols.' (pp. 63 ff.)
that it does not, like science, seek the pure objects; rather it concretizes
intermediary objects (coherence-systems of objects) in signs of a pronounced
totality-<:haracter.
53
Our attitude towards an intermediary object is simul-
taneously multipolar, and cannot be represented by an ' addition' of discrete
pole-symbols. The non-descriptive symbol-systems may of course be inves-
tigated semiotica ll y. We may render an account of their purposes and
effects, the poles they merge together, and also how they are organized
themselves. Thi s investigation, again, is scientific and descriptive. Scientific
criteria for truth, however, may not be employed in connection with the
non-descriptive symbol-systems, as our conception of truth presupposes a
logical order of pure objects. The non-descriptive symbols, on the contrary,
are capable of concretizing those phenomena that science considers as
' illusions '. The perceptions of daily life are generally intermediate to the
objects and quasi-objects mediated by the specialized symbol-systems. The
non-descriptive symbol-systems, therefore, do not give us but
experiences and directions for our conduct. To this purpose they employ
synthetical signs which mediate reality in its phenomenal totality. This,
however, does not exclude that the non-descriptive systems can absorb
material from science and merge this with other aspects of reality.
S YMBOL SYSTEMS
While the goals and methods of science have been studied in great detail,
the non-descriptive symbol-systems are still hardly understood. ss We know
that several such systems exist, but how can we define their limits and
roles? Our point of departure must be the fact that the objects are of
different oalue to us. According to their belonging to different phenomenal
contexts, they serve different purposes and mediate different higher 'goal-
objects' . A goal may be an existing object which should be attained
(through perception or direct possession), or an imagined object which
does not yet exist. That a value enters the coherence-system of poles,
implies that an object is perceived as wanted or not, relative to a goal.
It has no meaning to say that an object an sich is valuable. It only has
meaning within a system of objects serving different goals. All objects are
given with value, and the values therefore form a part of the phenomenal
53 Comp:l1"e the concept of "condensarlon'
in psyeh03IL:11y.i,. The concept of intermediar y
objeer en3bles U$ to make the vague defini-
tions of the non-descriptive symbol. more
precise.
We may create ck..criptive system, with
the aim of un<!er=nding non-descriptive
,ystems, but we ean also make non-descriptivc
,ystenu which express ' desaiptive systems.
FiIL:Illy. we can establish descripti ve sl'tems
which treat other descriptive Jyne ms.
" Seitnee, however, is still subject to mis
understandings. Especi:illy gmteo<jlle is the
d aim of the 3llthropooophhts th3t they prac-
tise a spiritual scienee '.
structure of the world. In carrying out a scientific description we try to
eliminate this fact (also when we describe values) ; in a concretization,
however, the objects are represented with their values.
Parsons maintains that we can orient ourselves in three basically different
ways to the objects. The cognitive atti tude consists' in trying to classify and
describe the objects; it thus corresponds to what we have called ' science ' .
Cognition is based upon the isolation of objects, whereupon the discrete
elements obtained are ordered, compared, and brought into functional
relations. The cathectic attitude consists in reacting spontaneously to the
objects according to the ' gratification' they offer us. Cathexis means, in
contrast to cognition, that the objects are not pure, but 'coloured ' by
individual interests. The evaluative attitude, finally, consists in trying to
establish norms for our relations to the objects. 56 It may be described as
a ' disinterested cathexis' : one studies (perceives) the value of things
without letting oneself become engaged. In general we may also say that
our expectations relative to the objects have thr ee different aspects : know-
ledge, satisfaction, and fixed values." Both cathexis and evaluation imply
that the object we believe that we intend forms an intermediary object
with certain goal-objects. Any action may be anal yzed as a product of
cognitive, cathectic, and evaluative components. S9 The scientist is unable
to free himself compl(te/y from subjectivity in choosing the material of
his investigation, and the artist depends on cognitive knowledge in the
conduct of his profession. Besides, the intelligibility of his message depends
upon the existence of norms. To represent the individual, one needs a
common standard, because the individual only gives us information when
we understand what its individuality consists in. This means that the
symbol-systems cannot be completely pure. They are usually characterized
by the domination of one of the basic attitudes, such as cognition in
science. Parsons divides the symbol-systems into ideas (beliefs), expressive
symbols, and norms, according to which basic attitude is dominating. 60
The norms can be independent moral standards, or standards for cognition
and cathexis (such as a 'style' ). They are of course not to be under stood
as absolute ideals, but only as systems of varying probabilities relative to
certain goals. In this way they offer a standard (scale) for the relevance
of behaviour.
:16 Parsons & Shih : 0p. ctr., p. 5.
57 Gratification and obj ective values are not
necessarily corrd arro.. A drug addict OUk5 for
""tisf:Ktion even when he that it i5
harmful.
53 We recall the b et that the p.:rceiffd 5iu
i. influeDccd by the 01" publi<: value
of the stimul cs-ooject,
S9 Patsl'lns So ShiJ5 : op. cit., 1" 16: .
60 Parsons So Shill: op. cit., p.
.
Our exposition leads in a natural way to a classification of the symbol- 9
systems based upon a combination of the fundamental classes of objects
(physical, social, and cultural) with the basic types of orientation towards
these objects. 61 A cognitive orientation to physical objects produces what
we call ' natural science' , while a cognitive attitude to the social objects
defines the social sciences. A cognitive orientation to cultural objects gives
rise to the Gcistcswisscnschaitm , A cathectic orientation to physical objects
may produce a satisfaction of physical needs, while an evaluating atti-
tude to the same objects causes the establishment of a monetary standard.
An evaluating orientation to cuirural objects is usually called ' taste' . The
matter becomes still more interesting when we simultaneously direct the
same type of orientation towards several objects (i. e. towards an inter-
mediary object), or when the same object is simultaneously intended in two
or more different ways (cognitive +cathectic ctc.), or, finally, when several
objects and orientations merge into one complex process of symbolization.
Art thus seems to be characterized by a merging of cognitive and cathectic
orientations, and the different' arts' by directing this mixed intention'
towards different combinations of objects. Social realism' , for instance,
shows a cognitive-cathectic intention of physical-social objects. A combina-
tion of cognitive and evaluating orientations gives rise to what we call
ideologies.
Parsons discusses some of these problems, but his treatment of the
two large groups of symbol-systems we know as art and religion is hardly
satisfactory. He characterizes religion as a non-empirical evaluative belief
system' 41, but overlooks the fundamental role played by concretizing
symbols in religion. He is surely right in saying that many religious '
conceptions (e. g. God as an old man with a long, white beard ') can
be likened to the ' models' of science (e. g.the atoms as small solar
systems'), thus playing the role of mediating symbols which should
facilitate the experience of the deeper meaning. " But this is surely not
the case with the dogmas and the liturgy of the higher religions, which
can only be understood as concretizations of very complex intermediary
objects, often called ' mysteries' . 64 The pretension of religion is just to
organize the world completely, and this can only be achieved through a
total' concretization. " The parables of Christ are typical examples of
66
61 Th is Slate of aflair5 could be presented
by mcan5 of a diagram where varying sym-
boli2.Jtiom are placed' through a cembi-
nation of one or more oocntnionl wilh one
or mcee objccu.
Q Panon5: op. cit. pp. J67 ff .
6J Thil it the function of art and srchitcc-
ture when lo<: rvLng religion.
6-4 Thit word could jUII as well be applied
10 the work of an. A .... or k of an 'Which has
ban ""dUSload, is no work of art .
65 Thi5 total concretization, of tUnc , i,
compo.cd of subordinate OO!lacOza{;OQ5.
the concretizing' method ' of religion. In the Roman-Catholic confession,
for instance, liturgy, church-year, sacraments and dogmatic teaching are
unified to form a highly comprehensive and differentiated system. A non-
descriptive symbol-system of this type docs not contradict the purely
cognitive sciences, as the purposes are entirely ' different. In religion all
the basic orientations are melted together without one of them dominating.
Thus we may with justification talk about a particular ' religious' attitude."
While religion integrates all objects and orientations into one complex
intermediary object, daily life docs not attain such an integration. If it
did, this would be a religious integration. Instead, daily life shows a
continuous change of intentions. For primitive man the changes are few,
and the opportunity to reach an integration is present, that is, the oppor-
tunity to establish a simple, but for the situation satisfactory, cosmotheism.fi]
A ESTHETI CS
As the type of symbol-system we call ' art ' more directly concerns us, we
will have to carry through a somewhat more detailed discussion.
Semiotically defined, aesthetics studies the ends and (formal) means
of art. " As we have already mentioned, it is not a new idea to regard
art as a symbolization alternative to thought and science. But different
theories are not lacking. Thus it has been maintained that the arts do not
serve any social or cultural purpose at all. From what has been said above,
we under stand that this tArt pour l'Art attitude or ' isolationism' is
untenable. " We have seen that the meaning of a phenomenon consists
in its relations to other phenomena. It is meaningless to talk about meaning
a priori, or to imagine that the work of art tells us something only by
. representing itself ' . Instead, a work of art is perceived when its physical
manifestations arc ascribed to a coherence-system of (higher) intentional
poles. If this does not happen, it means that we remain uncomprehending,
that is, the work of art docs not tell us anything at all. Flaubert, in conse-
quence, wanted to write a book ' about nothing ' . 70 If a work of art thus
concretizes a complex of intentional poles, we can only describe it by
indicating these poles and their ' share ' in the whole. If we take a point
of view directly opposed to isolationism, and consider art as a political
66 Through reformation. cognition and eva-
lu.:uion were given pride of place, and the
non-descriptive concretization reduced 10 frag.
ments.
fi] Compare Thor eau's integration through
a voluntary simplification of rhe world.
68 Jiir""n", n: Psykologi. . . pp. 380II.
69 The l" Art po"r I' Art altitude has its
roots in imperial Rome when collectors de.
tached the works of art from their real
context.
iO K. Gilbert and H. Kuhn: A Hir/ory
oj Bloomington ' 9}1 . pp. 4 ff .
and didactical tool, we also run the danger of overlooking its concretizing
non-descriptive character. Instead of art we get illustrations to ' scientific '
or ideological texts;" L'Art pour r Art arose as a natural reaction against
such "contcxrualist' tendencies under Napoleon I, and must be understood
as an expression of the recognit ion that art should not be a mere illustration
to historical happenings. Both isolationism and contextualism are one-sided
in their approach to the problem. Only if we combine the knowledge of
the particular means of art with an understanding for its role in a wider
context may we arrive at a satisfactory description of its character as a
symbol-system. Isolationism and contextualism may also be understood as
theories where one single semiotical aspect is unduly emphasized. Con-
texrualism thus stresses the pragmatic factors, while the semantical question
how art-forms may carry a meaning is overlooked or reduced to non-
artistic relations (photographic or diagrammatic representation etc.). Iso-
lationism, on the other hand, as a matter of course only considers the
purely syntactical (formal) aspects, because the pragmatic and semantic
dimensions are negated by definition, including the case when the mean-
ingless term self-expression' gives the false impression of a pragmatic
component . 1'2
As a point of departure we have to consider the work of art as a
concretizing symbol, which has to be described through a complete
semiotical investigation of the objects making up its pole-system. l'3 Wt'
thus d(fin( th( work of art as a concretization of an intermediary obj(C! .
As we have already seen, this also holds true for other types of symboli-
zation, and only the semiotical investigation can show us which poles and
symbols characterize the different ' arts' . In general, however, we may
say that art symbolizes 'value-objects' . While science describes facts, art
' expresses ' values. Art is a means of keeping and communicating values,
that is, it makes values become common. " Art therefore presupposes
cathexis, a participating perception which produces immediate grarifica-
tion. " Although we therefore are engaged emotionally by the work of
art, it would be a misconception to say that the purpose of art is to
express feelings'. The work of art concretizes intermediary objects, where
our emotional reactions only form one of the components. 71 Other symbol-
systems, such as religion and certain ideologies, also concretize value-
68
'I This funda ment al misunderstanding is
of the ' ar t' of the totalitarian
regimn of the twenti et h ceotury, and has
aho influenced monumental p"inting in mod-
ern Norway.
n 'SeI.l;.npression' ncce..arily comprises
which do not only belong to the self,
73 C. :'olorris: Esthetics and the Theory of
Signs ', in Journal oj Unified Siena, Vol. 8.
' 939, pp. 1] 1 ff.
The idea tha t the wor k of art concretiza
an intermediary object has ib forerunners, but
the coaeepn of Bruns wik allow a more pre-
eise fonnnlation. Rader , for inst.:ma:, makes
the following natement : Art is the grea.t
reconciler of opposite poles wh ich. i n OUr
pnctica.l. life. ordi narily exclude: each ot her.'
(!>t . R2der: A Modern Boot of New
York 1951. p. 1111).
7'J ' By communica.ting the .. incommuni-
Qb!c " , it (art) cnates " community of appre-
eiatioo to supplement the community of
scientific interpretation.' (Rader : op. cit. ,
p? :S:'. II.)
76 Parooos: op. e il., pp. If. SlJes>CS
one-sidedly that the work of art is
a.n 'objea of direct gr atification ' .
';'1 See Morris : Science. An and Techno-
logy' , Krnyon & view 1939.
objects, but in these the evaluative attitude balances or outweighs the
cathexis.
What has been said in the preceding sentences belongs to the pragmatics
which initiate the semiotical study of art. Art-history tells us that the objects
concretized by the work of art can be of the most different kinds. The
art of the Renaissance, for instance, was partly conditioned by the con-
temporary theories of geometry and musical harmony." More often the
' raw-material' is taken from our daily life. 79 The contents of a work of
art are distributed on several interconnected object-levels. Panofsky dis.
tinguishes between three levels. The lowest one embracesall physical objects
and actions, and is named ' primary or natural subject matter ' . The second
he calls ' secondary or conventional subject matter ' , and it comprises the
meanings designated by the physical objects and actions. Thus we know
that a man pierced by arrows ' means' St. Sebastian. On the last level we
find the higher social and cultural objects mediated by the meanings,
such as the religious objects manifested by St. Sebastian. Panofsky calls
this ' intrinsic meaning or content ' . In art-history the two higher levels
are usually denominated ' iconography' and 'iconology'. 80 The study of
the pragmatic dimension therefore falls into two parts: the question of
the meaning of the art-forms, and the question why certain meanings are
intended at certain times. 31 is always necessary to experience
the art of the past, a knowledge which centres on the semantical relations
between forms and meanings.
The syntactical study of form in art has been given much attention.
Particularly well known are Wolfflin's five pairs of Grundbegriffc, which
were intended to describe the formal metamorphosis from Renaissance to
Baroque. " Although the concepts of Wolfflin have an empirical basis,
they are of limited use, and the attempts of other scholars to transfer
them to other historical periods must be considered somewhat unfruitful.
More and more do we realize that the artistic form is so complex that
it cannot be described by means of a few ' basic concepts' . Instead we
need a much more flexible tool. Th e decisive step to solve the problem
was taken by Hans Sedlmayr, who introduced the method of ' structural
analysis' (Strukt uranalYJ( ). Th is aims at rendering an account of 'die
Hierarchie der Motive in dem feni gen Werk, auf deren sinnvollen
10
n Stt R. Wittkower: Prill
npln ill the oj Humall"m . London 1949.
i9 We often hear that modern non-figura.
tive 2rt represents the Einsteinian four.
dimensional space-rime continuum. We should
not take such .Il comparison too literally. as
it is neither neu:>ry nor possible to present
pbysicil theories in another language than
thaI of physies iudf. We C:ln say. oowcYd' ,
that boclt the theory of rclatittity and madan
art hue a common point of departure in the
bet dl:lt the phenomena do DOt crist in iso-
lalion, but relative to a sirw.tion. We then-
fore no longer KCept the idea of an absolute
and infinite tri-dimensional space, and modern
painting exhibits a ' rdatitte ' space which
cannOt be described sterecmeu kally.
$0 See E. Panofsky: i" the Vuual
New Yod: 1955, p. :z6.
. 1 ' Naturalistic art '. tberefoee, is no uni-
ttOUI concept. A scientific description is just
as ' naturalistic' :IS a phowgra ph, and CTi-
dcntly there eaist an infinite number of
pon ibilities for equivalent but differently
oriented descriptions.
82 Wijlfflin: op. cit.
Zusammenhang und innere Funkt ion.
83
The: method of structural analysis
has shown us the inadequacy of the absolute: descriptive categories of the
past. It has even shown that the same work of art may have several 'formal
levels ' governed by different structural principles, and that each level may
have a dual or plural structure. &4 We: will later return to these problems
in connection with form in architecture.
The method of structural analysis may be further elaborated and refined
by means of information theory. n As we: have seen, information theory
defines a structure (a system) in terms of the probability of sign-combine-
tions. Any sign is related to the others within the system by varying
degrees of probability. If only the most probable combinations appear, the
work lacks originality and corresponds to the: norm we usually call ' the
style' . Less probable combinations define the originality of the work
relative: to the style. 86 Before, the successful work of art was supposed to
coincide with the style, and one discovered with some surprise that this
ideal led to a dry and academic art. Today we recognize the underlying
misunderstanding of the role of norms. While a style, so far, has been
defined in terms of a few particular formal traits common to a number
of works of art, we should rather let' style' impl y the formal probability-
structure of a symbol-system. The work of art has to express itself withi n
the limits of the norm, but without reducing these to a few self-evident
principles.
7
Artistic originality always has to be ' measured' relative to
the style. It is a well-known fact that a work of art may be experienced
many t imes without losing its import. The information is not eliminated
by our knowing in advance what is taking place. We therefore obviously
experience the message relative to the style and not to our own expectations.
In this the work of art differs from cognitive: messages. A concretization
may be experienced over and over again, whereas knowledge is imparted
once for all. We have defined 'style ' as the formal probability-structure
of the symbol-system. As the symbol-systems reflect the purposes they have
to serve, we understand that the style manifests social and cultural objects
independentl y of any particular work of art. 88 Symbol-systems have a
varying capacity of symbolization and may thus be considered more or
less valuable. The same holds true for the individual work of art realized
within a symbol-system. It is therefore a basic misunderstanding to believe
7
83
84
85
53 I I. Sedlmayr: Zum Degr iff der Str uk-
luranalyK ' , in Kn'titCM Bmdllr, 193(0-2 ,
p. ISO,
&-! H. Sedlmayr : ' Zu einer OO'engo:n Kutl ot-
wiuenschah', in X..,utwissnudlljtlicM For_
leI".", I , Bal in 1931. p. 7]. Also H , Sedl-
mayr : K..,u! u" iI W. ,I,r! tit, Hambu.rg 1958.
.5 As far as we kllOW, this hi onl y bttn
utilized by L. B. Meyer in bis excellent writ _
ing\ : Emotio1l II" J MCllni"g in M ~ , Chi-
cago 1956; Ma ning in Music and Infomu.
lion Theory' , in Journal of Aut! a ics imJ
Art CriticUm, JUDe l'fil (Vnl. XV, NO.4);
' Some Remacks on Value and Greatness in
Music ', ibid. , June 1959 (Vol. XVII, NO. 4).
56 Heyer : Emot;on. .. , p. 32.
S1 A full break wit h the style is impossible,
a. this would deprive the work of aoy i nforma -
tion value, Brunellescbi'a creation ' of the
Renaissance style in Florence shortly after
' 400 was ponihle became of the Tuscan
'proto-renaissance". The forms of Brunellesehi
were not 'completel y new' , but connected
with certain aspects of the local tradi tion.
The quick spread of the new style was pos-
sible because Brun ellescbi immediately for-
mulated a consistent s ~ l " l D . , cealizing its most
probable strucrures and thereby auting a
dimension of compari son for the whole later
dcvelopmetll. ~ also m , 3. t>oIe 1J4.
" We may foe Instance experience the geo-
metry of the wor ks of art of the Renaissance
as a symbol of the cosmic harmony.
that all works of art are equally good ' . This idea is a product of the
lArt pour I'Art attitude and the general levelling of all values.
Artistic meaning thus is ' measured ' relative to the probability structures
we call styles. But we should also notice that the single work defines its
own individual probabilities. This is particularly evident in music, where
the opening theme 'determines ' what may or may not follow. Correspond-
ing conditions can be found in the other arts. The style thus conditions
the form in general, while the theme determines the individual develop-
ment of the single work. In both cases the meaning is a function of the
deviations from what is most probable, brilliantly labelled ' designed
uncertainty' by Meyer. 89 From this we understand that the experience of
a work of art presupposes that we know the style, that our expectations
correspond to the probability structure of the symbol-system in question.
Very often the experience is hindered or distorted by the lack of such a
correspondence. '10 Again, this emphasizes that it is a misunderstandi ng
to believe that works of art from any epoch may be experienced ' sponta-
neously' .91
The study of artistic forms and contents is not complete until we have
placed these two aspects in relation to each other and clarified the generally
neglected semantical dimension, The artistic problem proper consists in
concretizing a content (an intermediary object) in another medium, and
the scmantical aspect therefore is of central importance. How may the
concretization take place? The answer above all is suggested by the term
. struct ural similarity' , If the artistic symbol has a structure corresponding
to that of the content, the semantical contact is established. Charles Morris
has introduced the concept ' iconic sign' to cover this case." It may be
illustrative to mention that the same idea is taken as a point of depart ure
for the analysis of handwriting, by assuming that the structure , of the
calligraphy reflects the motoric behaviour of the writer, which again is
functionally connected with his inner state. The psychologist Arnheim
discusses this problem in detail and maintains that we have the best reasons
to assume that particular arrangements of lines and shapes correspond to
particular emotional states, 93 Or rather we should say that particular
structures have certain limited possibilities for receiving contents, We do
not play a Viennese waltz at a funeral. The structural similarity only
7'
89 in Music. . . ' , p. 419.
90 Meyer borrows a ter m from irtlmmalioll
th=ry and t;llks about ' cultural noise' .
91 In experiencing music a
difficulty. musical score is not
a wurk of art in a, a building
or a p;!inting. It i, onl y a more or .. , aliso
f:lCtlIry of the real artistic phe-
ncrnenon, and hu to "" 'intl'rprct ni . The
interpretation requests certain deviations from
whn i printed (such as ' ru b.alo' etc.j. This
does flO! man. however, that these
' are' the: work of .:lrt, :as maintainnl by
(op. cit.) .
Morris : ' E<lhel.ics... ' . p. 136.
93 Arnheim : Th.. Gestalt Theorj- 01 E.J;.
prasion', Psych. RCII . '949. This
intui ti","ly understood . by Kandinsky
r""kr II"J li" ,c %U Miincheo I<p6).
becomes effective when we have learnt to organize forms perceptually, and
when we possess the necessary pole-objects to form the corresponding
intermediary object. " And even this is hardl y enough. The experience
or works of art is also facilitated by learning that particular forms were
really used in particular contexts. In this way we get a key to related
structural similarities. And this is needed, because both the formal structures
and the intermediary objects may have such an infinity of nuances that
it is higWy improbable that the spontaneous perception can grasp their
correspondences without training and instruction. Often the experience
starts by our grasping a simple, all-encompassing structure and a cot-
responding content, whereupon both aspects become articulated through
further acquaintance. This follows from the fact that the work of art
often consists of several formal levels, such as one large icon' embracing
several subordinate icons or other signs. If we really attain the art object
perceptually, we may get a strange experience of participating. This feeling
can be particularly pronounced when playing a musical instrument, but
it can also arise when listening or looking. The structure of the work of
art seems to have overcome all resistance, to make us resound physically
as well as psychically.
But we do not react only on the basis of structural similarities. It is an
empirical fact that works of art may also comprise conventional signs. The
arrows of St. Sebastian are thus a conventional sign telling us that the
figure represented is St. Sebastian. But obviously, a work of art cannot
as a totality be a conventional sign, as it would then no longer be a
concretization, but something analogous to the flag of the nation. The
work of art may also exhibit a third type of scmantical relation, which
consists in its belonging to an empirical series of causally interconnected
objects. A church-building thus may mediate religious objects, not only
because it is structurally similar to these, but because it forms the stage
where the ritual takes place. The building is functionally connected with
the higher objects, and therefore acquires a representing character. But
also in this case the concretization is left out, and we have to conclude that
conventional and causal symbolizations can only play a subordinate: role
in the work of art, which primarily has to be iconic.
9'l Structural similarity alway. presuppos.es
a choice between the properties of the motive.
10
A complete description of the work of art has to embrace the formal
structure, what this structure represents, and in which way the representa-
tion is done. Morris stresses that most studies in aesthetics exhibit a one-
sided emphasis on one of the semiotical dimensions only;" and we should
give him the credit for having brought forth the first complete theory of
art. The formal dimension is an integrated part of the artistic intermediary
object, and the statement that 'the form represents the content' , therefore
needs a qualification. The form participates in the totality as a ' low'
member of a series of object levels. The levels arc interconnected by
semantical relations, and it must be stressed that the work of art is the
whole series.
The work of art, therefore, is a very complex and intentionally ' distant '
organism. It requem from the beholder the acquisition of specialized
attitudes, and does not 'open ' itself completely until the most distant pole
is included in the intention. In the work of art a single pole is not the
'real' goal. Several poles are relevant, and the goal is an intermediary
object. A typical error in the perception of works of art is for instance
due to the intention of one of its subordinate manifestations (an irrelevant
intermediary object is formed), such as the illusion of importance often
created by precious materials. The study of the aesthetic problems above
all tells us that there is no opposition between 'expression ' and form
(order). We can ollly express ourselves by means of order. The expression
is not' added' , it belongs to the form. But a form, as we have seen, is
not expressive as a matter of course. When we pursue the creation of
particular and articulated forms, it is to arrive at a richer expression.
It is a basic misconception to believe that the form hampers and reduces
the expression, or that the expression is helped by accidental fancies.
We have said that the function of the work of art is to concretize
intermediary objects where I'alues participate as poles." It is also important
to notice that the work of art, in contrast to science, is able to denote the
individual situation. It should therefore in general be connected with
particular situations. Today we have instead an anarchy where all forms
appear everywhere. The work of art tells us that the world is; it represents
liic-suuations." Although a work of art is therefore a special concretiza-
tion, several works of art may together form ' systems ' which illuminate
73
95 Morri. : "Esthetics... p. 149.
96 Morri.: Estb( tie.. . ', p. 14' .
97 The expressive symbols lake the ir point
of departure in me symbolic act. Througb
rocialiu tion any action acquires a meaning
wbicb i. r>o[ iobeuot' i n th( :u;tion.
different aspects of reality, and through the 'integration CC the arts ' one
can create Gnamt ku11StUlerke where this is consciously intended.
But perhaps the most important function of art is to create nao objects.
The work of art can concretize a possible complex of phenomena, that
is, a new combination of known d ements. In this way it manifests possible,
not yet experienced life-situations, and it requests perceptions of new kinds,
experiences which become meaningful according to their relationship with
thc already existing world of objects. Thus the work of art may change
man and his world, and the old saying that 'art teaches us to see the
things in a new way ' is explained. On the other hand, art may also have
a stabilizing ' function in repeating known life-situations. a task which
socially is just as important. 91
P RODUCTI ON AND REPRODUCTION
The main question we have to ask when confronted with children's
drawings is: 'Do the children draw what they Sl:':C?' To answer this
question means to study the relationship between perception and repro-
duction. It is a banal fact that we may be able to perceive (for instance
a work of art) without being able to reproduce or create. So far it is not
strange that a person can behave in such a way that his ' space-perception'
is obviously based upon Euclidean schemata, at the same time as he does
not represent a Euclidean space in his drawings. Piaget shows that repro-
duction presupposes schematizations which develop analogously to the
perceptual schemata, that is, from topological to projective and Euclidean 10
schemata. " But the reproductive schemata develop at a later age than
the perceptual ones, and common experience shows that the development
is not always complete. The perceptual schemata result from experiences
(operations) and their task is to mediate relevant objects. The reproductive
schemata also result from operations, more precisely from experiences of
how something is made. Piaget observes that children may very well
distinguish between a straight and a curved line, without knowing how to
draw such lines, and the history of art shows that man did not always
make Euclidean reproductions, although one knew very well how to do
74
98 Compare the millennia! in
Egyptian art.
99 Arnbeim ull, the reprodlieti"e
eoncepu;'. defines the..,
a$ ' the conception of the form by which the
perceptual structure of the object ean be
rel'rC'Sl:nted with tbe propenie. of given
medium'. (Art ... p. '33).
this. Obviously, the reproductions are products analogous to the interme-
diary obccts, with perception and knowledge only as contributing poles.
The experiments of Piaget furnish simple and illuminating illustrations,
To carry out one experiment, he employed matches kept erect by small
bits of plasticine, and two tables, one round and one rectangular. 100 The
children had to arrange the matches (representing telegraph poles) in a
straight line between two points on the tables, The smallest children, under
3 years of age, were unable to make a straight line even parallel to the
edge of the table, although other experiments showed that they could
distinguish between curved and straight lines in perception. They could,
however, arrange the matches on a straight line drawn on the surface
(or along the edge of the table). The irregular lines made by these children
were based on the proximity-relation; if they were asked to space the
matches a little apart, they were unable to make any line whatsoever. The
reproduction, hence, was not a copy of a perceived straight line (the table-
edge), but a product determined by the child' s reproductive schemata for
lines in general (succession and proximity), We may also say that a lacking
ability of intending the straight line is evident. 101 Somewhat older children
manage to make straight lines parallel to the edge of the table, but they
fail as soon as the line has to he carried obliquely or outside the centre
of the circle. Characteristic intermediary objects appear. On the round
table they make lines which curve to approach parallelism with the edge.
On the rectangular one they divide a line which should cut across the
corner into two lengths parallel to the sides, or somewhat later they make
one continuous line which curves towards the corner. Evidently the in-
tention of the straight line is mixed with the perceptual influence' of
the edge of the table. 101 The child is not able to isolate the intention of
what should be produced from the intention of irrelevant elements in the
environment. Only 7year-old children can make a straight line in any
position. Their productive schema for the straight line has become inde-
pendent, and enables them to direct their intention at any time and as
long as needed towards the goal-object. It is interesting to notice that the
smaller children are satisfied with their products. Docs this fact imply that
the irregular lines for them represent straight ones? Recalling what has been
said above, we must answer that they do not intend a straight line at all;
75
100 Piaget & l nhelder : op- cir., p, '56.
101 Reproduction pt rsuJ'POSC$ what P i ~ g c l
calls ' delaj'td imitation '. (Piagee & lnhelder :
op, eit. p. 455)
102 Analogously we know architectural form.
inf luenced by the ccofiguraricns of me land -
=!".
this intention is impossible to them, although they give the impression of
having understood the task (they are able to select a straight line among
other lines). The product corresponds to the intention, and accordingly
they show satisfaction. But they can be made conscious of the fact that
their product is not a straight line. Still they will repeat the same error,
because they are unable to maintain the intention of the straight line, and
every time the task is done, they will have a spontaneous experience of
having arrived at a satisfactory solution. The reproduction is thus limited
by the reproductive schemata, and does nut directly follow perception. 103
The same holds true for higher reproductive schemata. It often seems,
however, that perception and reproduction correspond to each other,
because we only perceive what is strictly necessary, that is, much less than
we are able to see. Arnheim thus puts as the heading to a chapter on
reproduction by children: They draw what they see' , \ 1)4 and he supports
this statement by saying that neither perception nor reproduction aims at
' photographic representation' . This is true, in so far as both are based
upon schematizations, but the studies of Piaget show that we may not
put a sign of equality between them. Later Arnheim adds that ' children
Sl:(: more than they draw' , and explains that reproduction means to create
a 'structural equivalent' to what is perceived. But we have seen that the
reproduction only considers those elements in perception which fit the
reproductive schemata, and must conclude that we neither reproduce what
we see nor what we are able to see, but what our reproductive schemata
make possible. The reproductive schemata and their use are determined
by our experiences during the socialization process.
The development of the first schemata accompanies the child' s need
for mctoric activity. The first drawn' rounding ' surely results from the
movements of the hand and the arm. 105 When the form has been. dis-
covered, the child will use it for any representation. This does not imply
that the child is unable to distinguish the things in its environment, nor
that the repeated use of the rounding signifies a lack of manual skill.
For the child ' thingncss' is perfectly represented by the rounding, because
the child primarily intends the general enclosed character of things. The
circle not only represents this quality because of its centralized shape, but
103 P i ~ g e l &; lnhcldcr. op. ea., p. 272_
104 Arnt,eim: op. cit. p- 130.
105 Amhcim: op. ti t ., pp. 136 If.
also because the surface inside a contour seems more dense than its
surroundings.
We have already suggested that a representation through structural
similarity presupposes a choice, and it has been pointed out that it is not
univocal how visual impressions should be reproduced. Sometimes we
choose to reproduce the projective pattern on the retina (perspective draw.
ing), at other times we want to maintain important structural properties
such as relative sizes and right-angles. 106 The perspective intention reflects 10
the wish for a particular kind of illusion, which, however, deprives the
the motive of its most fundamental properties. We may conclude that
products are determined by the schcmatizations of the producer, and that
they only become understandable if the consumer' adopts a corresponding
attitude.
The reproductive schemata may be analytical as well as concretizing.
Children spontaneously det'dop concretizing schemata, while the analytical
ones have to be learned later. It is a well-known fact that the acquisition
of analytical schemata usually kills the concretizing faculty. To learn
logical methods for the production of concretizing symbols, however, is
impossible. Logically we can only define the ' pure ' d ements embraced
by the concretization, though the ability to realize the synthesis proper
may be helped by exercises. It would carry us too far to describe this
training in further detail ; in the last part of the book, however, we will
discuss the question of how to develop the concretizing ability in the
student of architecture. l07
A creative individual is defined as possessing the faculty of producing
concretizing symbols. lO3 When we create an object, it so to speak comes
into existence through the representing phenomena. It is generally known
that the object represented by the created sign does not have to be con-
sciously ' present' during the process of creation. The process of creation
is rather characterized by an orient ation towards the representing sign.
In this way we have to understand the statement of Ibsen that his Peer
Gynt started to become wilful in the course of writing, while the original
ideas of the author apparently lost importance. When the product has a
high degree of complexity, the process of creation is characterized by a
succession of interconnected intentions. As the structure of the product
77
lOll S= Am hd m's ex:lmple. (op.
cit., pp. 75 ff .)
107 aile ha. recentl y given attcntion
to the question how the natural" creative
faculty of t he child may be See
II . Read : Education th rough Art, London
aho E. Ziegfd d (cd.): Education and
.4rt , UNESCO 1953.
108 According to this definition the scientist
is nOl creative'_
takes shape, one intention will follow naturally from the other. This may
be illustrated by the known fact that a more extensive and complex work
of art (e. g. a symphony) cannot be created by starting at the beginning
and going on in a 'linear ' way to the end. On the contr ary it is necessary
continuously to keep the totality in mind, and to go from the whole to
the parts and back to the whole. This state of affairs is expressed by
Jorgensen in the so-called ' law of wholes' : ' Any intention has a tendency
to produce another intention directed towards an object of which the
object of the first intention forms a part. ,109 The need to create thus may
be understood as the intention of a not yet existing object. 110 To intend
'a not yet existing object' can only mean that the intention is a product
of two or more intentions of existing objects. The creative intention there-
fore aims at intermediary objects, and presents itself phenomenologically
as an indistinct want. Such intentions are present in all perceptions, of
course, but the creative intention combines poles which have not earlier
been brought together. The result is not always significant, but often it
tells us something essential. The creative intention usually starts with a
general idea of the goal object, analogous to the experience we have when
we think of a piece of music without being able to ' hit upon it' . III The
products of creative activity are related to other forms of imagery-like
dreams, but should not be confused with these. III By means of the concept
of concretization we have been able to clarify the character of true creations,
and we have also seen that creative activity presupposes the acquisition
of articulated perceptual and reproductive schemata. These secure the
closeness to life of the products. The acquisition of reproductive schemata
implies that we have become able to represent certain structural properties
of our environment by means of common symbols, in the same way as
the acquisition of perceptive schemata means that we manage spontaneously
to experience certain of the public objects in the environment. Creative
activity, therefore, like all other forms of behaviour, is based upon the
socialization process.
Real creative activity, of course, transcends the repetition of known
reproductive schemata. 113 Generally it has to be characterized as a deviation
from ' normal ' behaviour, and important artists rarely find immediate
recognition. But the deviations should not be accidental. Only if they
1m P, ykologi .. . , p. 343.
110 Jiirg<'n' cn: cp- cit., p- 329.
III Jiirgcn,cn: op. <il. , p. 335.
III JOrg<: Il,en : op. cir., p. 380.
113 Cantril : op. cit., p. 123.

arise from hidden conflicts in the form of life may they be defended as
real solutions to actual problems, preferable to the more traditional in-
tentions which only apparently are adequate.!" Generally, society estab-
lishes very strict laws to control certain deviations (' crimes ' ), while others
are treated more liberally (t crcative activity' ). In practical life, however,
the latter are also subject to an indirect control, resulting from the wish
to protect 'vested interests' in the tradition. Il5 Social control nevertheless
has a very important function in securing order, at the same time as
long-term planning is made possible. Adjustment through socialization is
to be considered the most elementary type of social control. Control in
general is necessary, as the society cannot satisfy all needs and private
interests. Real creative activity, however, satisfies social interests, and should
therefore to a large extent be free from negative sanctions. A practical
difficulty results from the well-known communication-gap which fre-
quently divides the specialist from the public. 116 New products on a high
intentional level will always be spontaneously incomprehensible, and will
therefore be met with reluctance and opposition. The sciences in general
have conquered the resistance and have become accepted academical fields.
Creative activity, however, is mostly condemned by a control which
requests ' popularization' . Slogans and worn-out formulas are employed
to hide the more essential problems. 117 We should conclude by saying that
creative activity plays a fundamental role in changing society. By giving
new intermediary objects public status, it enriches our world. us
CUL TURE
From birth we struggle to establish a fragment of order in the infinite
variety of our environment. The order we attain is, as we have seen, a
result of collaboration and the transmission of information. The achieved
order is defended against all charges; the need for order makes man at
the same time creative and conservative. A common order is called culture.
In order that culture may become common, it has to be taught and learned.
It therefore depends upon common symbol-systems, or rat her, it corre-
sponds to these symbol-systems and their behavioural effects.!" Participation
in a culture means that one knows how to use its common symbols. The
79
114 P,mom : op. cit., p. 297.
115 Th is is the background for t he negative
$ ~ n c t i o n $ againsl modan an in Norway,
116 Parsons : cp- cir., p- 338.
117 Parsons : op. cit., p- 42r.
113 El isting objects, however, a n die simul-
u neowly.
119 Culture consists in patterned or ordered
sysrems of s)m bol$ which are objects of the
orient:ltion of ~ c t i o n , internal ized components
of t he per50nalitie$ of individual :octon and
institutionalized patterns of social . ptom.
(panoo$: op. cil. p. 327)
culture integrates the single personality by giving him afeeling of security
in a ordered world based upon meaningful interactions. The common
symbols enable us to reach objects which are unattainable to the isolated
individual, and thus give rise to a versatile and differentiated world. 120
Common cognitive tools serving instrumental tasks are just as important
as symbol-systems which may express values and complex life-situations.
Primitive man does not distinguish between the different types of
symbol-systems, but merges them all into magic and myth. The purely
cognitive organization of the situation is unknown; instead good and bad
forces' are associated with the things. For primitive man' all thi ngs are
full of gods' . 121 This, of course, does not happen in an accidental way,
but reflects the fact that the environment really may be said to consist of
hostile and friendly objects. Life-giving sunshine alternates with destructive
tempests, cold and frost come from the north and the warm winds from
the south. Primitive man is never indifferent to the environment, and
therefore he is also unable to 'abstract' its separate aspects. Instead he
concretizes his synthetic' environment in relatively diffuse intermediary
objects represented by magic and ritual. III Later development has tended
towards a specialization of the orientations and the corresponding symbol-
systems. Science has slowly purified its cognitive-analytic attitude, tech-
nology has developed as an instrumental activity on this cognitive basis,
art and religion no longer can pretend to describe the world, and philo-
sophy has become a purely analytic activity aiming at the definition of the
signs used within the different symhol-systems.!" In daily life these spe-
cialized orientations are usually mixed into diffuse attitudes with slight
intentional depth. Thi s is, as we have seen, natural and ' right'. It is less
pleasant, however, to see that the only specialized orientation we are
normally taught is the cognitive one. The socialization is exclusively based
upon learning to understand the things around us, so that they may later
be mastered and exploited for the maximum profit. In European culture
the tendency has thus been a development away from artistic and religious
concretization towards scientific abstraction.
Before, an attempt was made to keep the immediately valuable phenom-
ena through concretization, today we search-for scientific' truth'. This
truth may be in conflict with existing values and may produce condit ions
80
I.!O. Without the requisite cultural resources
to be a" imilate<! through internalization it
is 001 po"ihle for ;1 human ltvc! of ~ n o n
ality to dtvdop and hence for a humao type
of soc;",l system to emerge.' (Pal">on>: or.
cit. , e- 34)
III unger: Phil osophy.. . p. 14,.
1.!2 Sec Werner : 01'. cit., PI'. 284 fl . for ;t
comprehensive account of magical reality.
123 This definition of philosophy originaUy
Items from Moritz Schlick. See &Ulmmclu
Au/ril::c. Wjen 1938.
we are not mature enough to master, at the same time as it is unable to
register the ' quality' of the immediate situation and to integrate man in
his environment. Understanding the importance of concretizing symbol-
systems in society, it is evident that we need a general training in artistic
and religious orientations. It is also important that we should learn to
chang( our att itude according to the situation. Instead of the diffuse
magical attitude of primitive man, we have to differentiate our orientations
in correspondence with our complex and articulated world. It is therefore
surely a misunderstanding when some want a return to a diffuse medley
of art , science, religion, and metaphysics. Hi Such totalities ' necessarily
will have a low degree of articulation, or they will become so complex
as to be useless. Reality only gets an articulated structure when defined
objects and relations replace the diffuseness of magic. The objects have
their counterpart in differentiated symbol-systems. In this way only is
cultural growth possible.
Today many of our non-descriptive symbol-systems have become obso-
lete, as they do not suit the new life-situations brought forth by the immense
development of the cognitive-instrumental activities. New concretizing
symbols have certainly been created, but the public has not integrated
them with the new cognitive intentions. Firstly, this shows that the
cognitive intentions arc only ~ accepted' , but not really taken into usc;
and secondly that the new concretizations are not even accepted. The
public of our day accepts science as unint elligible, but necessary, and rejects
modern art as unintelligible and unnecessary. The result is what Giedion
has brilliantly named ' the split of thought and feeling' . Changes in the
environment rarely happen simultaneously in all fields, and changes that
have taken place in one field may therefore necessitate drastic encroach-
mcnts in others. Thi s problem was particularly prominent 5 0- 100 years
ago when inventions produced sudden leaps in single fiel ds. It was very
difficult to adjust the everyday world of objects to these leaps, as the
psychol ogical and sociological dimensions need a more gradual develop-
ment. The problem is still just as pressing, because technological devel-
opment, in spite of all attempts at planning and co-ordination of the
different fiel ds, moves at an unchallenged pace. Architecture suffers parti-
81
]1. Such [Otal ity views' stem from the
misconception t hat a ' synthetic sce nce' is
possible.
cularly from this lack of balance, and the architects take refuge in using
obsolete methods.
It is also typical of the present confusion that many want to create a
metaphysical separation between the humanistic and the natural sciences.
We understand that this is a misconception, as the sciences are based
upon common methods. The methods are independent of the subject-
matter, and only tr y to answer the question : ' How do we gain know-
ledge?' A work of art can be just as well investigated scientifically as a
chemical substance, and the basic methods founded on the theory of objects,
information theory, and semiotic, are common. l2S If it is said that we
should not use methods borrowed from the natural sciences in the human-
istic disciplines, this only shows a lack of understanding of the ends and
means of science. We should also repeat that ' intuitive ' methods to gain
are illusory. The new synthesis of logic and empiricism of our
day has taught us that it is meaningless to assume that domains of know.
ledge exist where the intellect is not competent . The unity of logic and
empiricism also implies a unity of theory and pracrice.!" Before, empirical
studies were carried out without the suport of logically organized symbol-
systems, while the logical systems of philosophy only had slight contact
with empirical facts, and rather acquired the character of free speculation.
The theory of objects and symbol-systems also makes the traditional
distinction between ' matter ' and 'spirit ' obsolete. ' Physical ' and 'psy-
chical ' objects are logical constructions based upon phenomena which, as
such, can neither be called physical nor psychical; they are only classified
[0 allow for a convenient division of work within the sciences. 127
As the best summing-up of what the concept' cultural development '
implies, we may quote Whit ehead: The art of progress is to preserve
order amid change, and change amid order.' nil
125 Set; V. F. Lenzen : "Philosophy of
Scieoce' , in D. D. Runes (cd.): T_"tict"
CC1I llU'y P/JikJsoplJy. New Y(I(k 1947. p. 109:
:dso ReM;henbach : 0p. ot., p. 346. Dr=p:
Log. .AuJbcr.u, p. makes die following
n.atmlCllt : 'Die urfallen nicht
in unzlUammenbingende
biere, soooa n es giht nut von
Gegenslinden und daha nur cine Wi..cn-
schaft. '
Wi C. Mortil : ' Scientific Empiricism", in
Encyd oped;a and Unified Sc;eMe, Chiqgo
1937
127 Phy, ical term, l ih "mass' or 'energy '
have cehlng 10 do with t he (meaningle..)
question whether the world ' is' material or
spiritual. See P. Frank: Mod"" Soence a"d
Philosop1l y. Cambridge 1949, pp. 127,
,86 6.
III A. N. Wbiteho;.ad, Pro.cCU 6.l/ d Bra/ity.
New Yotk I!P 9, p. 515.
III. Theory
I. Towards an integrated theory of architecture
THEORY AND EXPERIENCE
The two previous chapters furnish the general background we need to
develop a comprehensive theory of architecture. At the same time they
help us to understand the need for such a theory.
The theory should not be a substitute for the direct experience of
architecture. We have seen that a theoretical scientific investigation has
another purpose than to compete with perception. But the theory surely
can help us to attain a more 'correct ' and profound experience of archi-
tecture. The theoretical insight will perhaps tell us that the work of
architecture is a function of factors whi ch are not immediately accessible,
at the same time as a theoretical examination of its formal organizati on
facilitates our perceiving it correctly. The theory thus indicates the poles
which define the ' adequate' orientation to the object. Only when intending
what the form g prcunts as a manifestation of higher objects may we talk
about a real architectural experience.' We here presuppose that the concept
;. architecture' transcends the formal aspect, but even when experiencing
purely formal properties, we need theoretical insight. This problem will
be discussed in more detail later. " That architecture is something more
than a play of forms, should be evident from the experiences of our daily
life, where architecture participates' in most activities. Nevertheless it
is often maintained that the;' real ' architectural experience is purd y formal
(' aesthetic ").3 But we repeat that objects are necessarily perceived as mani-
festations of each other, because they belong to situations and do not
appear in isolation. Through a particular analytical attitude it is surely
possible to perceive architecture formally, that is, relative to certain formal
categories. But it is just as possible to perceive the forms as manifestations
of the presuppositions which have determined them. Analytical experience
I was the first \0 stTe-s that the
a(eeuibility of a work of art pre-upposes an
amNde. (' Zu ciner .ueng.:n Kunst -
wi.scnscbaft . ' 930).
2 \ Vbile the arehitects are often oppm.ed 10
theory . the musicians have always acpt<"d
the throrie- of harmony; counterpoint and
(ann .u a foundation.
3 This interpretation is still dominating ar-
ehilt<:Nral meory, although many scholar.
1<) regard the :l.Tchitectural forms a.
I)'mboliOl1 forms.
forms a part of this more comprehensive kind of architectural experience.
In other words, the formal attitude is more narrow than the symbolizing
one, without offering anything new. Architectural history not only presents
a great variety of formal solutions, but it is also characterized by changing
presuppositions (building tasks). We therefore have to reject theories pro-
pagating one particular attitude. From what has been said above, we
understand that theories based upon naive realism are also insufficient.
4
Though we are willing to admit that many of them stem from a positive
wish for closeness to architecture itself ' , without losing oneself in purely
economical or functional considerations.
We have seen that a 'phenomenological description ' is illusory, as any
description has to be in terms of objects. If the scholar tries to find out
something by naively putting himself in front of the work of architecture,
he anyway has to use defined concepts in describing his results. If not,
his work win be of no interest to others. The theory 0/ architecture,
therefore, cannot take the immediate experience as its point of departure.
The theory certainly has to be based upon a direct knowledge of works
of architecture, but we must repeat that only an adequate attitude secures
its relevance. And we can never be sure that any description of accidental
experiences fulfils this criterion. We therefore have to reject the asserticr-
that the description of a work of architecture should correspond to the
direct experience. Only through an analysis in terms of objects may we
attain the attitude which mediates the adequate experience." Only in this
way do we acquire perceptual schemata which are fitted for the structure
of the object. Many scholars, however, have derived their analytical care-
gories from immediate experiences. The categories ' mass' and space' are
thus supposed to be self-evident properties of architecture.
1
If we content
ourselves with a common-sense definition of 'mass' as something we may
touch or grasp, and define ' space' as what is 'between' the mass-objects,
this obviously holds true. But this does not prove that we should not try
to establish concepts which describe the architectural form in a more exact
way; concepts which would make the' naive' ones superfluous." Certain
naive concepts, however, are so commonly used that it would be inconven-
ient to discard them; rather we should try to give them a more precise
meaning. The impossibility of basing the analysis of works of architecture
B6
4 only express the indi vidual writer ' s
scbjec rive orientation to archit ccrure in general
or to parricular favourit e works.
Bruno criticizes several theories for
being and for thcir lack of ability
to appr02Ch ' phenomenal chara cter ' of
archiux rure. formulates his
own p"'""nal mwry (architecrure =-' Jd/o
I /,=io), which he pretenti ously calls' the mod-
n theory of (B. Zevi: ' Archi
tenura ' , in E"ridol"Jiil U", ,,eTl<,Je aeU"ArlC,
Vol. I , veneaia-Roma 1958, col. 615 ff.).
6 This however. doc> not rcoull
automat iu. l1y from anal!",i. The attitude
is . ymhetical and presupposes training in
architecture.
, A. E. Brind'mann u= rhe1/: two eon,
cepes as me oosis of his interest ing thecrj- of
arrh ilCClura.l form. (Stt Bat."u"' I. Tiibing.-n
1956).
, In a recent stud y E. u= anOlher
property of as his
poi"r of dep2ffiITe. He tal ks about ' rwi n
visual aspo=u ' of architccrure , intendi ng rhe
fact that any building has both an utnior
and an i MnWr. The n perience of telatioo
between these two aspects forms, according
to Corn<:U, an essential p:>rt of the architce
rural uperience. In varying wa!'" utmor
creaees an for which me intexior
offers the ' !ui{i'mrot '. Cornell has ",n ainly
poi nted to an interesting aspect of the archi-
teetwal bur hi. au
hardly suitable as a basi. for a thwry of
architecture. (E. Cornell: Huma" iJt;r; ' '' lfui-
nel i"lo Alditer:ture, 1959).
upon our immediate experiences, also follows from the discrepancy between
the perceptual and the productive schemata. The perception has to be
co-ordinated with the production in order to be relevant. That is, we
return to the request for an adequate attitude. That the experiences of
the beholder may be omitted in the description docs not mean, however,
that the theory should not take into consideration what the psychology
of perception tells us.
We should therefore be careful not to confuse the theory of architecture
with a theory of how to experience architecture. " The latter. for instance,
consists in describing how we have to orient ourselves to organize the
situation adequately. Some times we may stroll freely around, in other
cases we should rather follow a prescribed path and experience the forms 12
in a particular succession. 10
The theory of architecture should render an account of the characteristic
dimensions of the building tasks, as well as the formal structures, and of
the relations between these two aspects of the architectural totality. We
have seen that the questions put forward in the introduction cover all these
aspects, and the theory will be complete if we manage to answer our
questions. The theory has to be based upon empiri cal knowledge (archi-
tectural history), but aims at helping the creative architect to plan and
predict, to compare and criticize.
While the theoretical investigation should uncover the possible dimen-
sions of the work of architecture, the immediate experience should grasp
it as a totality; as an intermediate object. Theory and experience therefore
do not substitute for each other, but may help each other mutually. But
we should avoid confusing them.
C ONCEPnJAL SCHEMES
It is not our intention to present a complete survey of all concepts used
in recent architectural aesthetics and architectural history. Such an investi-
gation would go far beyond the frame of our study. But it is necessary
to consider the suitability of the more important types of concepts.
For our purpose the concepts may be classified according to their
semiotical character. Although most authors have employed the traditional
This confmion i, especially pronounced
in S. E. Ra,mu"cn : Om at ark;uktur ,
Kiibenlum 1957. Rasmussen describes neither
forms nor ,}'mbolizat ions, but tell, about bi.
rather penonal (or conventional ) impression, .
10 P . Frankl tk ,.
H.1ukUntl, J.."ipzig ' 9'4) has
that the eent",lizM of the Renais<.:l nce
, huukl be br immNliately pl:>ci ng
our>elvc> in irs centre . Thi< show by me
war. that t he central ized sl"'cc i< conceived
independently of the beholdcr-. Many Baroque
compo,ition>. however. are experienced mcv-
ing along an and u ke the beholder imc
consideration. A characteristic example is
offered by the two domed church.,. on the
Piazu del Popolo in Rome. wbieh were nude
physic.al ly ditfa"C'nt to similar to the
penon who enters through the city gate. (Sec
R. Winkower: ' Carlo R:l.i=Idi and the Ro-
man Architttture of the Full Baroque' . Art
Bull. XIX. No.2).
distinction between functional, technical, and aesthetic aspects, II we only
find attempts at a systematic presentation within the formal (' artistic' )
dimension. The building tasks are usually treated in a mere catalogue-like
fashion, for instance by distinguishing between monumental buildings,
habitations, and industrial buildings, on a purely functional basis. This
kind of classification is certainly necessary, but in most cases it has a
descriptive character which attaches the tasks to conventional building
types. 12 Instead it seems necessary to submit the building tasks to a basic
investigation, for instance by asking : ' What is a church ?', rather than
'How is a church? '. The functional basis for answering such a question
is often present, while the 'environmental' aspect is blank. The history
of architecture here offers very inspiring material which shows that
buildings from the most different periods have gone beyond the fulfilling
of mere practical needs. U Gregor Paulsson's distinction between ' physical
milieu' and "symbol-rnilieu ' is basic. 14 A building only reveals its full
meaning when seen as a part of a symbol-milieu, where all objects carry
values as participants in human actions which are neoer indifferent. Even
the names we give to the things express that they belong to a symbol-
milieu: we talk about w(dding-gown, holiday-attire, parad(-dress, christmas-
tree, wdding-ring, and birthday<ake. 'The wedding and the funeral are
building-stones in the life of the fellowship, but they are only symbolic
actions. Together they form what we call a symbol-milieu. It is the symbolic
content which gives the concrete things their social meaning' . 15 In this
study we shall put all the physical aspects of the environment under the
heading ' physical mttieu " and employ the term ' symbol-milieu' to desig-
nate all the higher objects which are mediated by the physical ones.
Semantical concepts which might grasp the relation between task and
means hardly exist. Lately one has usually been content discussing the
slogan ' form follows function ' . 16 The question how an architectural form
may serve a particular purpose, however, is not answered by this slogan,
which only points to the existence of a general relationship between the
two aspects. With certain surprise we discover that Alberti proposed a
clear solution to the scmantical problem. He prescribed that the most
forms (the circle and the elementary polygons) should be reserved
for the church, and that public buildings in general should be carried out
88
II The categories go back Upoll the Viteuv-
ian conctp" of "tililiU, fi"" ital and
(I, m, z).
12 We may. fOI instance, doubt that con-
ventioul types of habitations. such n cue -
family houses and row-houses. arc adequale
.ol utions to the dwdling as an actual building
talk.
lJ See the writing> by H. Sedlmayr. G.
v. Kaschniu-Weinbef g, H. P. L'Orangt:. G.
Bandmann, E. Baldwin Smith, K. Lehmann .
R. Kraut heimtt, W. Braunfds, R. Win -
ko....er etc.
H G, Paulr.son ' Stadell' Prigd '. in Ny
$rI1J , Stockholm 1958.
15 G. Paul.son and N. Paulsson :
Rruk ()(:h f'ragd . Stockholm 1956, p. u .
16 The idea is old, but received its pregnant
Icrmulatien from the Chicago archi tect Louis
Sullivan towards the end of the nineteenth
centur y. See L. H. Sullivan : The Autobio
graphy of a" Idea,
in the strictest conformity with his formal principles, Deviations from
these rules, however, may be recommendable in private houses. 17 Alberti
thus tries to represent a hierarchy of building tasks through a hierarchy
of forms. His point of departure is the idea that geometrical perfection
reflects the cosmic harmony which the church-building should represent. I I
We may also infer that the demand for a higher order in the public
buildings than in the private ones shows that Alberti understood the public
as a generalization of the individual. Architecture should reflect this social
structure. The architectural universe of Alberti is therefore characterized
by coherence and variation. His idea is grand and fascinating, not least
in a time when similar forms are employed in connection with widely
different building tasks, with visual chaos as a result.
The development of convenient scmantical principles presupposes a
profound understanding of the building tasks, as wdl as a detailed know-
ledge of the formal dimension in architecture, Here we encounter several
interesting attempts at a theoretical clarification, attempts which partly
contradict and partly supplement each other. The current formal concepts
arc of two different kinds: firstl y the properly formal ones which describe
the order present in the work of architecture, and secondly concepts which
may be labelled ' qualitative' . because they, rather than objective formal
properties, designate the experiences of the beholder, 19 We have in mind
expressions like ' heavy' and 'light ' forms, ' narrow' and "wide' spaces,
and especially references to tensions' or movements ' in objectively sta-
tionary forms. The qualitative concepts often stem from an ' empathy'
of the forces inherent in the technical structure, 20 The empathy also may
lead to a more or less complete anthropomorphization, by characterizing
architectural forms with terms usually employed to designate states of the
human body." The qualitative concepts arc usually employed without any
precise definition of their meaning. When Vogt-Goknil talks about ' narrow
spaces' 22, we are interested in knowing in which objective context she
has the experience designated as a ' narrow space'. To a certain extent
this is explained by Vogt-Goknil, but the decisive fact is that the expla-
nation can only be given in terms of objects and not by means of other
qualitative concepts, As the formal investigation cannot start from our
immediate experience, neither can it employ qualitative concepts. But this
11 L. B. Alberti : Dt: Rt: At:dijiralon"tl, IX,
Vlll.
IS Sec R. Wittkowa : Arch;tuturtll Prin.
eipler... The wa. . till suppor ted by

19 Vogt -GOknil (Archiu klonud t: GrundIN_
riOr ." .d Umraumt:rlt:bnu, ZUrich 1951) uses
the term ' Qu:alitit mcsscnde Bc:griff e ' to
characterize her own concepts, She designates,
for insbrlee, architectural spaecs as wcit and
t7lg (p. 49). From what has heen >.aid above,
we understand that il i. meaningl ess to assert
that concepu "measure " a quality. A quali ry
has 10 be understood as an i ntennedi2ry objea:
....hen ..:al ua FIticipate as poles. Such an
objw may be concretiud or described aD.I_
lytically, and we may IUInC it. But in doing
this we neither characterize DOl" measure '
the quality.
:0 Sec F. Schumacher: Dt:r Grin tkr- & u
ku'u t, Stuttgart 1938, p- 119.
11 E. Lundberg (Ark;rrktur"'u Formsprl k,
Stockholm 1'}45-61) h:m:lly discusses the pet!-
blans related 10 spaec, mass, and surface , but
intrOduce. an a.mhropomor phistic terminology
which indicates me frrms as ' falling' 'rising ' ,
, stretching ' . 'lying'. 'spreadi ng', ' resting' ,
' lifting', 'ascendi ng', 'standing' , ' tI"ownin g' ,
' hoveri ng ' , '.inking' . ' weighing ' etc. Thus
he lalb about the "standing-rising-carrying-
re>ting.weigh ing-<:rowning. morivc' of an crd-
er (VIII, p. 30)' LundJX".g uses mneCODtt prs
withoul pm;ise definitio ns, and his an:alyscs
arc consequently rather irrdevant .
n Vogt _GOknil : op. cit. pp . So ft .
l ----i
does not imply that the qualitative concepts should be abolished. They
may serve as useful catchwords for facts which have been explained
analytically, and should therefore be introduced towards the end of the
investigation to exhibit important similarities and differences within a
group of architectural works. %J The qualitative concepts are often adjectives
which designate general anthropomorphistic conditions (' vigorous' , 'weak' ,
proud ' etc.} and their use in architectural criticism should be in harmony
with this general meaning. We ought to add that the qualitative concepts
can also have a releasing, inciting function. Just because they designate
general human conditions, they may open our eyes to characteristicqualities
inherent in the work of architecture, and thus give the architectural experi-
ence a point of departure. 24 The importance of this function implies that
we should avoid any arbitrary use of the qualitative concepts. Although
the qualitative concepts may be useful, they do not belong to the archi-
tectural theory proper. This is also due to the fact that they cannot be
attached to particular formal properties. What we experience as a ' narrow
space' is highly relative, and changes according to the situation. A physical
space which may be named 'narrow' within one style, could be ' wide'
within another. A square space, however, is objectively square. n If we
find out that different periods both make use of narrow spaces' ,
this does not therefore imply that they have a relevant relationship to each
other. The reasons for their employment of narrow spaces' may be very
different, that is, the empirical-operational definition of the concept is not
the same. The qualitative concepts, therefore, should only be indicated as
poles in a very limited and well defined context. We realize that more
invariant concepts have to be used to allow for an adequate formal de-
scription. The concepts employed at present arc usually mingled with
qualitative terms in such a way that the analysis loses its preciseness. 26
Lately, for instance, a diffuse space concept has come to the fore. As this
tendency is of a fairly recent date, and perhaps only of passing importance,
we will first consider some more traditional concepts.
The oldest formal theories stem from the Pythagorean conception that
'All is Number '. The Pythagoreans discovered that the musical harmonies
correspond to the simple numerical relations which result when measuring
the length of a sounding chord. The octave thus is produced when the
2J The prescm writer bas talked in Ibis
$ensc about ' rising ' and ' falling' movements
in the b pde, of Michd angelo. See C. :-Jor-
berg.Schulz: _\ fichd""gdo ,om OTkiukt . Oslo
."s.
24 The u.ually cxpu the UI his.
toeian to use concepts whicb help hi m 10
(. understand ' ) me work of an.
n Even if it is n:l'"irnaJ as rrctangular
or distorted becauoe of t he formal context. it
h,lt 10 be thtnikd as square . The description
has 10 render an ao:ount of the objectiye
stimulus-situation.
26 It w.... difficult to "",,oid confu.i on wil h
qua!itatiye concepts before the modern philo-
'IOphy of b nR"age had investigated the prob-
lem of ' meaning ' .
length of the chord is doubled, the fifth corresponds to the ratio 2 : 3 and
the fourth to 3: 4 The human music produced on this basis was considered
an imitation of the ' music of the spheres' supposed to result from the
numerical relations inherent in the cosmic order. We have no direct sources
which prove that the Greeks transferred these 'ideas to architecture, but
the definition of architecture as frozen music' seems to have very old
roots. Xl In the writings of Vitruvius we find no reference to the musical
harmonies. Instead we encounter the idea that harmony presupposes the
repetition of a module, in such a way that all the parts of a building are
brought into simple numerical relations with each other. 2J Thi s idea is 11
derived from the organization of the human body." The Doric column
thus reproduces the masculine proportions with a height which is 6 times
the diameter at the base, while the Ionic column shows the feminine ratio
of I : 9. The Corinthian column, finally, reproduces the slender figure of
the young girl. 30 We thus see that Antiquity tried to define the formal
qualities of architecture with the aid of numbers; the repetition of com-
mensurable magnitudes was regarded as the prerequisite of architectural
order. But we have to underline the fact that the numbers were not
considered important by themselves. The numerical relations became
meaningful as manifestations of the order inherent in nature, as known
from the study of the human figure and the .celestial bodies. On this basis
columns could also be replaced by caryatides and atlantes.
The architectural theory of the Renaissance united the ideas of Vitruvius
and the Pythagoreans. Jl Alberti thus gives an accurate and detailed de-
scription of the proportions needed to give order to the Chri stian 'temple' ,"
His theory of the perfection of certain shapes also stems from numeri cal
ideas, combined with the observation that nature 'prefers the round forms'."
Palladia employed harmonical ratios to organize a succession of several 12
spaces. In general, Wittkower has shown that the numerical composition
of the Renaissance is based upon the theory of musical harmonies, and
the idea that these represent the cosmic ordcr.." The ideal was a proportion-
ally ordered totality, where 'nothing could be taken away or added without
destroying the harmony', a 'unity in the multiplicity' which presupposed
the repetition of commensurables. The theory of the orders was also taken
over uncritically from Vitruvius.
9
1
27 See Schumacher: op. cit pp. 14 fl. An
introduction to the ideas of the P}"thagoreanl
givcn in H. Ka}"ser: Ak"""";s, Basel 1946.
2J f . Il. 3-4. The iden of Vi-
truvius arc extensively disernscd by P. H.
Scholfield : Throry of Proportion in
chit t_ r, Cambl-idge '958, pp. 16 if .
29 m. I. 9.
30 IV, I, 6-8.
Jl See R. Winkowcr: A,chj ltlmll lTi,.
riplu... f"IStim.
>2 Albrni : op. cit. , YD. See C. Norberg-
Schulz , ' Lc ultimc intenzioni di Alberti ', ill
Ad oJ Romonu m NoJ, tlCgi M'. Vol . f,
Roma IJ.
B Alberti, VII, IV.
34 Wiltkowet: op. cit. put IV, pp. 89 if.
,- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
During the Baroque period the classical theory of architecture became
exposed to criticism. Perrault maintains that proportions are hardly per-
ceptible3\ and concludes that the rules of architecture, rather than mani-
festing an a priori beauty, arc a result of habits. This criticism was
formulated philosophically by Hume, who says: Beauty is no quality in
things themselves: It exists merely in the mind which contemplates them;
and each mind perceives a different beauty.' 36 At the same time Laugier
criticizes the classical orders and questions their organizing power in
architectural practice. 11 The thinking of the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries thus led to a break with conceptions which had been basic since
Antiquity. This tendency is already evident in Borromini who ' barbarically'
set himself against all traditional rules for good proportion. Rather than
organizing his plans and elevations on the basis of commensurable magni-
tudes, he employed geomet rical methods to determine the subdivisions of
the main shape. 31 The plan of S. Iva alIa Sapienza. for instance, is derived
from two intersecting equilateral triangles, and, as is commonly known,
the height of an equilateral triangle is incommensurable with the sides.
The method of Borromini is related to mediaeval practice which deter-
mined the architectural form ad quadratum or ad triangulum. J9 The
geometrical conception of the architectur al form, however. also stems from
Pythagorean-Platonic ideas, and we understand that Borromini broke away
from a particular anthropomorphistic (Vitr uvian) interpretation of this
tradition. Common to both the numerical and the geometrical conceptions
is that the proportions are regarded as the decisive formal factor, an idea
which is still alive in the everyday language of architects.
The more recent theories of proportion are numerous. 4() It has, for
instance, been common to superimpose a net of ' invisible' lines on facades
and plans, to secure an ordered interrelationship of the parts. In this way
one has also tried to prove that the masterpieces of the past are based upon
subdivisions of the circle, on the golden section or on parallel diagonals etc.
Such ideas have been the point of departure for Le Corbusier, who is the
author of one of the most recent attempts at establishing a system of
proportion. 41 Le Corbusier explicitly says that the problem of form is of
a geometrical nature and that the work of art is mathematical '. Like
Vitruvius he finds the basis for his system in the human figure. ' The man
9'
13
,.
15
Scholfield : 01'. cie.. p. 1';
01" cir., 1'. 78; wirtkower : 01'. cit . p. 126;
C. Oraorm ane" du cinq esphn d"
coJonnn. 1633.
36 D. Hume : On Ihr Standll1'd oj Tasl( ,
1757
37 Laugicr : Obs"vations sur I' A",hillulT
(1765>. n Dc. inconveniences del ordres
d'Aschilceture ' , III. T nOle 37.
Most architectural theorists of the Renais-
sauce and the Baroque .upportcd the Vi_
reuvian iOO th at thc cbcic ocdcn represent
different ' ch;u-xtcn' , and accordingly had to
he u.ed in connection wim p:uticul;u- build
ing task.. The ma>culine Doric order was
applied 10 fortific.:nion,. city-gales utili-
t.rian buildings . column. were
used in churches I"'laco, whil" the
Ionic on:ICI" represented a hMll10nic m UD
belwcen e,,[Kmes . h for inSlance
applied 10 to wn -halls. s..c the ""celknt
51 udy by E. Fon,man : Dorird. loniKh.
KorinlhiKA ; SlOCkholm ' 9'5',
31 Stt R. Wi ttkowCl" : AN "nd Areh' IKIUTI!
in If<1ly 160<>-' 750. lIarmondswonh 1m.
Pl" ' 32 fl.
J9 See R. Winkower : "Systems of Proper-
lion ', in Auhilfl' Yearboo k , 5. Pl" 12 fl.
4() See wirtkoweri' Synan... ' f..... lileratul e.
41 Lc CorbUlicr: I.e .\/odul l;>r, Boulogne
195 (1

with the raised arm' is the basic measure (2.26 m.). Thi s measure he divides
according to the golden section and thus arrives at a scale where all the
dimensions are related. The single dimensions on the scale may also be
added, to allow for a larger and more flexible number. The number of
dimensions is further increased by the introduction of a second scale where
the measures are half of those on the first one. In letting all the measures
of the building correspond to values from the scales, Le Corbusier believes
to attain the desired order, at the same time as the dimensions remain
;; human ' . The latter idea is new, in so far as previous theories of proportion
only tried to manifest the human order, without using the real siu of
man as a basic measure. Not only because of the varying size of human
beings is the idea hardly convincing. That measures derived from the
human body are considered more pleasing than others is a typical case
of ;; number-mysticism' .
It is not our task to compare the organizing power of the different
systems of proportion." Rather we have to investigate how the idea in
general presents itself in the light of the psychology of perception. The
objection that the foreshortenings prevent us from perceiving directly the
numerical relationships, is, as we have seen, not new. A square may look
like a trapezoid and a circle like an oval. The constancy phenomena show
that the experienced foreshortenings do not follow the laws of perspective.
Furthermore Gestalt psychologists have stressed the fact that shapes change
according to the context in which they appear. Even without foreshorten-
iogs, a square may look rectangular because of its environment . And still,
architectural history seems to show that numerical and geometrical rela-
tionships may produce architectural order. The explanation is simple.
Through the repetition of motires the numerical order becomes
perceptible. In the interiors of Brunelleschi we recognize without effort 16
that the square and the semi-circle are used throughout, although we see
the single elements under different foreshortenings. We recognize the
elements because of their general similarity (form-constancy), and sponte-
neously perceive the building as an ;; addition ' of elementary geometrical
shapes. 43 In Alberti's Sant'Andrea in Mantua, both the exterior and the
interior are determined by a pregnant ' wall-theme ' , which is varied 17
proportionally. The perceived order is not dependent upon the ratios
93
42 Thil is by Scholfield: 0p. cit.
43 Wittkower (' Brunelleschi and Proportion
in Perspective", in Journal &/ the Warhurg
and Courtau/J lnltit uts, Vol. XVI , 19'53) tries
to show that wc experience: , imilar pr&port ions
in spire: of the
shortenings fann a regular of diminish.
ing di mensions. Thi , i. ce:rtai.nJ.y corred. but
Ihe eXl'C' rience describM by Winkower is
mainly due to the repetition of Gn talr.li kc
motivQ.
+I Norberg-Schula: ' Alberti.. . ",
being exactly I: I or I : 2 , but upon our recognition of the theme. When
this has happened, we may analytically investigate the organization and
discover the underlying ratios. But these ratios are never perceived as such;
rather we recognize the dimensions as similar ', 'almost simila; ' or
' completely different ". This presupposes that the ratios are presented as
pregnant visual Gestalten. Invisible lines which are supposed to determine
the proportions, in most cases have to be rejected as a fiction. Thi s docs
not mean that we want to abolish the number completely. When we
experience similarities, the repetition of equal dements implies a numerical
order. But the number enters as a purely secondary d ement of the de-
scription. The experienced order thus has to be understood as a character-
istic Gestalt, in accordance with the investigations of Piaget. What is
said above does not, as it may seem, imply that we want to take our
immediate experiences as a point of departure for the description. We
only want to describe the actually present form, or the intended form,
by means of concepts which are in accordance with our psychological
knowledge. In general, we understand that the term ' proportion' only
refers to secondary properties of the architectural form, and we must
conclude that systems of proportion only can play a minor role in an
integrated theory of architecture. The qualities of classical architecture
are primarily due to other factors than numerical relationships, and the
expression good proportions> designates the presence of a satisfactory
intermediary object rather than the existence of certain ' harmonic' ratios.
Towards the end of the nineteenth century we encounter the first
attempts to establish a new basis for the theory of architecture. Riegl
takes the immediate experience as his starting point, and puts forward
the strange theory of takt isch and optisch as the two categories of per
ception. Forms either result from a tactile conception which is tied to the
surface, or from an optical introduction of ' depth-values' . 46 We must
reject the idea that objects are perceived either tactually or visually, or as
a mixture of the two modes. What we perceive are forms ,
and their meaning does not result from the use of hands or eyes during
the act of perception. What we see is perhaps partly determined by tactile
experiences (Piaget), but this does not allow us to characterize a form as
being tactile. The perception of depth , by the way, is also conditioned by
94
45 Mia van der Robe calls the proportiom
a means of architectural expression' . hm ere-
phasizes that they have the character of in-
tuitions ; iD our terminology. mt...,tions 01
interme<iw-y objects.
46 A Riegl : Spilromitde K..
1901
tactile experiences. In spite of these objections, we have to recognize that
Riegl initiated a new approach to the problem of architectural form by
introducing sur/act (mass) and spaa as poles. Riegl himself, however,
always describes the architectural form as seen from one standpoint, and
his view remains ' pictorial' . Thi s also holds true for Wolffiin, whose
GrundbegriUe were developed to describe the formal differences inherent
in the pictorial art of the Renaissance and the Baroque. The transfer
of his concepts to architecture has not proved fruitful, especially because
of the complete neglect of the spatial aspect. In contrast to Wolffiin,
Schmarsow sees this as the core of the problem.-w The theory of Schmarsow,
however, does not proceed much beyond Riegl. His most important con-
tribution is the realization that the beholder' s movement in space is essential
to the experience of architecture. The perception of space he interprets as
a function of the human body: we stand erect and move forward. We
have seen that this theory is psychologically untenable, but at the same
time we should point to the fact that Schmarsow' s idea of architectural
history as the history of changing space-conceptions", has been funda-
ment al to many recent architectural theories. We therefore have to take
a closer look at the space concept and its applications.
The Italian Bruno Zevi characteristically represents the scholars who
define architecture as ' the art of space' . He says: "Impossessarsi dello
spazio, saperlc 'vedere ' , costituisce Ia chiave d' ingressc alia comprensione
degli cdifici. '50 We can always, of course, understand architecture as the
art of space' in the sense that a particular place (location) has to be given
a particular character (quality). But it is important immediately to stress
that this character may be independent of the space-form, and rather result
from the occurrence of certain symbolical motives or from a particular
organization of the walls. A typical example is furnished by the comparison 18
of Brunellcschi' s Old Sacristy at S. Lorenzo in Florence with the New 19
Sacristy by Michelangelo (the Medici Chapel). The two spaces have basi-
cally the same form; the treatment of the walls, however, is completely
different. Michelangelo' s chapel has to be understood as a symbolical
"world-architecture", fundamentally different from Bruncllcschi's simple
definition of stereometrical elements. Michelangelo's solution, by the way,
is relatively independent of the space-form: in several other cases he has
95
47 criticism by A. Schmarscw:
d" Kunftw;surucllajt, Lcipzig
lind Berlin 1905.
48 WoltHin : op. cit.
A. s.:hmar50w, Das W"Ufl d" archi.
td:.to"ucll .." Scllop/ung. Leipzig
50 B. Uvi, 54?" .,..d..,..l ",ditettu.ra, To-
rino 1948, p. 22.
carried through the same symbolical theme under completely different spa-
tial conditions: as a hall' in the Cappella Sistina, as a plastic shape (mass)
in the tomb of Julius II, as a succession of different spaces in the Biblioteca
Laurcnziana, and as a ' dynamic ' baldachine in the Cappella Sforza. 51
One might of course maintain that each of these works has its particular
character, but as the space-form only plays a minor role in determining
this character, it Seems inexpedient to say that we are concerned with
examples of the art of space'. Rather we should say that the characters
mmifest different works of architecture, and realize that architecture is
determined by many diverse factors, among which the space-form is only
one. In the two sacristies we should thus talk about different ' architectural
expeliences", rather than spatial experiences' .
But Zevi surely does not only consider the space-form when he defines
architecture as 'the art of space'. He rather has the total 'spatial effect'
(Raumwirkung) in mind. And this effect is determined by the treatment
of the boundaries, by the illumination, and even by symbolical motives
for that matter. Hence it corresponds to what we above called the ' archi-
tectural character ' . In other words: by introducing the concept ' art of
space' , one has so far only substituted ODe term (, art of space' ) for another
one {' architecture ' ). The one-sided glorification of the space concept in
the writings of many present day architectural theorists therefore seems
to be rather dubious. It does not help much to give the concept a clear
definition, for instance by saying that ' space' refers to a physical, Euclidean
space. Such definitions would work against their own purpose, because
the space concept we arc discussing is intended to cover the architectural
totality itself. As it is absurd to reduce the architectural totality to its
spatial aspects, we have to reject the current diffuse use of the term. In
Zevi's own writings we find the best illustration of the failure of the
concept. To be consistent he removes the Parthenon from architectural
history, on the grounds that the interior space (i. e. the a lla) of the Greek
temple only plays a minor role in the totality. 52 The diffuse space concept
actually stems from taking the immediate experience as a point of de-
partur e : one perceives ' spatial effects' and tries to describe these directly. 53
But in this way a more precise and fruitful USe of the: word ' space' is
prevented.
51 Sec C. Norberg-Schulz : . .,
'2 ' II Partenone copera nonarcbitertonica,
ma non per que' t a ce. s.a di c, sefe un c.apoJ.:..
voro d'arte, ed in sede di storia della scultur a
noi possiamo afferma re ehe chi noD ama i1
Pan enone non ha scnsibiliti e. tetin .' (Zevi:
op. cit., p. 59)
Zcvi thus bases his thcor y on a particular
perceptual schema. VOK'-GOknil make. the
same error in presupposing th:1t architecture
_ spa, V0K'-Giiknil' s definition of archi:
rectere as obviously implies
a wi>h to transcend the purdy formal a. pt
(p. 63)' tam U",,,,um i. intended to
oompri'IC mil;"u factors , of describ-
ing mea"illg. , she td ls about ex-
perienees. E. Cornell (op. cil.) ;>]", employs
a ditfu'IC sp:ta: concept and makes the mean-
ingleu . UtCmenl that , .. the appearance of
our vi.ual world ha, one dimension only. i. e.
deJ'lh ' (p. 32).
In architectural theory there is no reason to let the word ' space'
designate anything but the tri-dimensionality of any building." But it
is not said that this property is always of architectural importance. Expres-
sions like ' spatial experience ' or ' spatial effect' should therefore only
be employed when the stereometric volume is of decisive importance.
It is not practical to distinguish between "physical ' and architectural'
space, but only between physical space and architecture, The organization
of the physical space enters as an intentional pole in the architectural
concretization. We thus maintain that it is convenient to employ a narrow
but precise concept which denotes the tri-dimensional organization.
Before we investigate its possible differentiations, however, we have to
take a look at some of the more valuable cont ributions to the development
of the form concept in general.
The first important step was taken by Paul Frankl. 55 Frankl tried to
establish a conceptual scheme for the analysis of architectural compositions
introducing terms like ' space-cells.' and ' mass-forms' (Kor
This presupposes a purely quantitative concept; space
is something that can be measured, divided and added. Frankl was thus
the first to attempt a description of the important physical space relation-
ships in architecture. He does not talk about experiences, but describes
in an exact and pertinent way how architectural totalities arc organized. 56
The two basic concepts employed by Frankl , are 'addition' and "division' .
While the buildings of Renaissance may be understood as an addition
of independent clements (s}-ice cells, limited surfaces and defined masses),
the Baroque deprives the pal ': S of their independence by assigning them
a form which appears meaningless in isolation. In Baroque architecture
the totality is given ' in advance' and ' divided ' afterwards. As we under-
stand it, Frankl introduces the numerical and geometrical relations we
have discussed above in a new way. Instead of losing himself in abstract
mathematics, he refers to concrete architectural Gestalten. He also intro-
duces concepts like ' row' and group ' to designate
different types of formal structures. Such rows and groups can be ' open'
or ' closed ' , and may result from the operations of addition and division.
Finally he uses the words ' interpenetration' (Durchdringung) and ' fusion '
to express that the elements arc melting together. 57
97
20
'l-4 Some writers have the concept
of ' our -dimensionl l sp;>' in connection with
Hchitectunl probl ems. Zevi thus writes: ' ... b
mente dell'uomo scopri me. oltrc Ie tre di-
mensioni prcspett iche, ne esisteya una quaere."
(op. cit. p. 25) We haye maintained that the
abstract physical concept of '.pace.time ' which
rd er. 10 microcosmie and astronomical phe-
nomena. has nothing 10 do with the space
of architet mr e. Th e at t hitectur:d tou]ily pos-
lOses an infinite number of dimensioes,
55 P. Frankl : J"
B""k'<Ilst. Leipzig und Berlin t9' 4.
56 Th is docs nOt imply that the descriptiOn!
of Frankl aTe complet e or satisfactory. His
concepti need revision and supplement. But
we should sIre.. that he WaS the fir st to
approach the architectur al totalit y in a rele.
vanr way.
57 See P. Frankl : Das S)'stml J" Ku1lJt_
Brunn t938, ?p. 105 fl . for
ill ustrating the difkrenl combina_
tions.
Related to Frankl is A. E. Brinckmann, who also employs quantitative
formal concepts to describe space- and mass-compositions. S8 The mass-
forms he describes by means of the categories' Dcr regulare Baukorper' ,
' Die gesch!ossene Baugruppe' , ' Die balaneicrtc Baugruppc ' , and ' Die
aufgd oste Baugruppe ' . He also recognizes the importance of the treatment
of the surfaces and investigates ' Geschmiickte Flachcn ", "Gliederung der
Fldchen durch Horizontalen und Vatikalen' , Ordnung durch Ord-
nungcn' , 'Ordnung durch Zahl und Mass' , and discusses finally the
"Rastcrschcmata ' of our time. We notice that the numbers and the classical
orders only appear as organizing means among many others, and we
welcome Brinckmann' s attempts at an empirical classification of different
types of composition. Hi s categories, however, are less systematic than
those of Frankl, and rather than belonging to a consistent theory of
architectural form, they invite further study. This also holds true for his
spatial categories, which are labelled "Der rcgulare Quadu raum', "Der
Gewolberaam", ' Die kombiniutcn Raumgruppcn' , 'Raumdurchdring-
ungen', and ' Rhythmische Raumfolgen ' . Hi s analysis of the mass- and
space-relationships in the cities of the past is very inspiring. " The descrip-
tions of the ' movements ' of architectural forms, however, are less con-
vincing, being based upon imprecise qualitative concepts. 60
This problem has been treated in an inspiring way by Dagobert Frey. 61
Frey asserts that many architectural compositions obviously have a 'begin-
ning ' and an ' end ' , just like works of music and literature. This is not
always the case; the centralized space of the Renaissance is thus a simul-
taneous composition, ' resting in itself ' , which ought to be experienced
by placing ourselves directly in its centre. Many other formal structures,
however, have to be described as ' succu sivc' and der Wcg may be
considered a formal motive in architecture with rich possibilities for
variation. 62 The succession can be more or less continuous and ramified.
Entrances, passages and concluding' goals' (e. g. the apse) must be under-
stood as parts of successive compositions, and the term' spatial succession'
(Raumfolgc) is introduced. Simultaneous and successive orders may also 12
be combined to form a higher unity." As the plastic counterpart to the
simultaneous, resting space, Frey defines the resting mass (Das
exemplified by pyramids and obelisks. Such masses are often used to
SS A. E. Brinckm:mn : Pla,rik u" d &um
alJ Grund/orme" GUlallu"g,
1922. Brinckmann sums up hi. ideas
in Bauku1lJt . Tubingen 1956. Hi, point of
view i, purdy formal , and pragmatic
prabl,""" arc put off with some re-
marks hC<lding ' Man baur '00. wie
man s'ch selbsr cmpfindet. (pp. 5 fl .)
59 Sec A. E. Brinckmann: p/aJz u"d MOIlu
mm t , Berlin ,md Dl!UJsdl e SttJdth.>u-
kunst , Frankfurr/M 19II .
60 Brinckmann : BauJ:.unst.._. p. 73.
61 D. Gatik u" J Aug.-
busg '929. and Gru" dk gu" i zu ti,," va
Ku"stwUu "sd aft , wtee 1949.
61 Sec D. Frry : ... pp. 6,
80 if. Frry defines the relative 10
a beholder , as an apm.encc, but this is not
neasury. The successicu nn very well be
d.,.rnbcl as " purdy formal property.
6) For insu llCC in Palladia' s Villa RotOnd.:! .
terminate a spatial succession. " In general we may say that the studies
of Frey show that it is not enough to describe the indi vidual forms
as such, their position in the system must also be indicated. Prey' s
concepts not only open interesting new possibilities for the description
of the architectural form, but also establish a contact with the' meaning'
of the work of architecture (see note 90 for Frey's definition of the
architectural totality).
The conceptual schemes of Frankl , Frey, and Brinckmann show that
the formal analysis can and should become more exact and complete than
the theories of proportion and the diffuse space concepts allow. Thus we
have to describe the stcrcometrical form of the spaces and masses as well
as the character of the bounding surfaces. Furthermore, we have to render
an account of all the different possibilities for the formation of rows,
groups and hierarchies, and of the ordering principles they stem from
(addition-division, simultaneity-succession etc.). This leads to the de-
mand for a systematic theory of architectural form, which incorporates
relevant information from psychology. system-theory and information-
theory.
The first attempt in this direction is due to Hans Sedlmayr. 6'i Sedlma yr
takes Gestalt psychology as his point of departure, and stresses constantly
that the parts have to be understood as functions of the whole, and that
any work of art results from a ' basic formative principle' . 66 His book
on Borromini illustrates this view. The investigation starts wit h a formal
description of Borromini' s principal' architectural Gestalten'. Space-form,
space-boundaries, vertical organization, and particular elements of im-
partance (such as the usc of the orders) arc described and are unified in
a conclusion defining the formal structure as consisting of "relief-units "
(Rd i( f( inh( ilm ) 61. The properties of these units arc examined in more
detail, with the result that they have certain possibilities of variation. They
may also be employed in such a way as to create an ambiguous form.
Furthermore Sedlmayr explains that the formal structure may have several
. levels' (Schicht(tJ ) at which different formative principles are reigning.
The spatial composition may. for instance, exhibit a type of order different
from that of the boundaries. He compares this state of affairs to the
distinction of melody" 'harmony' , and ' rhythm ' in music.No The formal
99
38 S4 ' Die indische Weg-Form i. ! be. tirnmt
durcb d:I.. L'mwandc1n und Umkreisen des
Males. ' (D . Frey : ... , p.
6S s.,e H . Sedlmayr: Vir A,....}, it....kl u. 80'-
romi" iz. :1-. Aufl., 1939: Dir "1_
ttC},""K der Kal},rJ'<l k , Zurich 1950, md
/a},a.. .. Ber" }, Il, J Filc},er v<>" E'/Ilc}" wen-
Miinchen ' 956.
66 II. Scdlmayr . KtmZI ""J Wa".""il ,
p. 94. refers to G<: s!3lt psychology
and the analytic methods developed in F.
Weinhandl : Di" GClta/lll"aly/c, 1927.
6' ScdImayr : 80,..,om;" i. p. JJ. The ana-
lysis of the Gothic cathedr al lead. CO different
Gcsulten, all the In.ie ' b2ld:l.chinc-
elements", and co thc complex orp nil..3tion
of the well. [SeeScd!mJyr: Dic E"mr}, ,,ng... ).
6lI 80rrom;";. p. 2J. ' Ma.n kommt
hci der Bescbreibun g des Gebildes nicht mil
hlos. ci"cm Struklu rprin zip . Man brauch!
Ct" Prinzip, dass di e Verhaltnisse der Raum
teile, ein a"dercl , die Octe der Saulcn
erklarl, und noeh andere aur Ableilung weit-
erer Tauachen. [edem .soIchcn S1nlktlll'-
prinri p cnu pnehl eiM: ' Schich!e' .i nnvollcr
ZU<Jmmcn b.ii nge inner h...lb des Gebildes.. '
21
22
analysis is followed by a genetical analysis where the structure is derived
from the building task proper and from the historical presuppositons. "
The characteristic elements of Borromini are not only related to the histori-
cal tradit ion, but are also understood as stages in his own development .
Furthermore, Sedlmayr shows how the whole comes into existence through
the elements. He thus first goes from the whole to the parts and then
back to the whole again, in accordance with the best rules of Gestalt theory.
The book continues with the interpretation proper, where an explanation
of Borromini' s formal structure is taken as the basis for understanding
his personality, his outlook on life (Wdtbild) and his historical position.
Sedlmayr thus mentions the ' coolness' (Kiilte), ' sobriety' (Niichtunheil),
'crystalline hardness' (k ristallincr Hiirle) which characterize the works of
Borromini, and on the other hand their 'organic growth" (organisches
Wachstum), ' pliability' (Biegsamkdt), and ' movement' (Bewegung). Here
he is allowed to introduce such qualitative concepts because they correspond
to exactly defined formal properties, which have not only been described,
but also related to the architectural tradition.
1O
Scdlmayr, therefore. has
carried through an architectural analysis which in principle is complete
and exhaustive. 71
We may distinguish three characteristic phases in the ' development '
towards a suitable method for formal analysis: 72
I. Form as proportion. This point of view is the more pnmltlve, as
it only considers a very abstract property of the architectural totality.
Hi storically it stems from the misunderstanding that number is found
in nature, and it expresses a desire for an absolute beauty. We have shown
that the ratios as such do not warrant a satisfactory architectural form.
' Rules of proportion ' only have an ordering effect when they lead to
concrete architectural Gestalten. The concrete Gestalt is decisive, not the
invisible mathematical relations. The psychology of perception shows that
Gestalt is only rarely correlated with particular numerical relations.
2. Form as space. This point of view is especially popular at present,
and has to be understood as a well-intended attempt at approaching the
formal totality. We have seen, however, that it is inexpedient to use the
100
69 Dj" Enlttd"mg. show. ~ n a n ~ l o g o u s
organization.
70 Sedlmayr : Borrominj, P. 95.
71 Some of his results may perhaps},., dis.
cussed. but the method is SUp"rior . Excellent
structun l analyses have aho ~ n c:lrried OUt
by Winkower. Kahler. Bandmann, Ka'Chnin .
Weinberg etc.
n The following exposition certainly sim-
plifi es the situation. but it gives a convcniem
suu 'q of the main trend. in [he theory of
arehi[!uu l form.
space concept to cover totalities (intermediary objects) which transcend
the Euclidean space. All attempts at introducing a diffuse space concept
as the basis of formal theory must be rejected as confusing. The employ-
ment of a purely Euclidean space concept, on the other hand, has to be
supplemented with other formal categories.
3. Form as structure. This point of view still belongs to the future,
although we can point to important contributions. It consists in under-
standing the architectural form as a whole where many different factors
are unified. A structural analysis' has to render an account of the Gestalten
(elements) and relations which determine the formal totality. Sometimes
the spatial factor may be decisive, at other times the treatment of the
boundaries, or even the use of the materials.
If we extend the concept of structure also to cover the contents', and
the relations between form and content , the analysis becomes a real and
exhaustive architectural analysis.
In general we have to maintain that architecture should not be reduced
to one of the dimensions we use for its description. If we employ a concept
like space, in an analysis of the architectural totality, this does not entitle
us to define architecture as the art of space' .
A N OUTLIl'o"E. OF THE THEORY
In the light of the preceding survey of the more characteristic concepts
used in architectural theory, we are able to present more clearly the
outlines of our own integrated theory.
Firstly we have to stress that the theory should comprise all the semio-
tical dimensions. Only in this way does it become complete. " By saying
that the theory should have a semiotical basis, however, we have only
given a first hint at its organization. The semiotical scheme has to be
filled with concepts adapted to the field we are treating. The concepts
should be both empirical and logically unified into a system. 14 The theory
is not intended to propagate particular solutions, but to render an account
101
13 We have seen that the theories of the
past usually threat isolat ed semiotica! aspecli.
(5 Mortis : ' Esthctic:s., ;', p. 146). It is also
ecmmce tbat architectural b.istoriam mix the
aspects. The same author. for instance, may
descr ibe the: Rena issanee syntactieally (iii
' forr!W ebrity ') and the woeu of the Baro-
qu e pcagmatiully (their ' inlOxicatin g effectj .
A compl ete conflllioo of this kind i5 fwnd
in D. Winfield : AD Essay in Criticism nf
Atch iletlUtC' . /0 1U1l,,] of Acsthcties fltl d A11
CriMsm, Vol. XIII. N0.3. March 1955
14 The deDUlld for <=pirieal COll(Cpts i5
enen tial . A KiCDtifie lre.: l.tment of ardtitectu.te
doc:s no! eo115;5t in I2king over conccpu from
other fid ds, or in the appl ication of general
mathema t ical tools. At the Hcchschulde fUr
Geslal lUng in UIm the Gnmd/cn rr 10 a larg e
extent ccnshn in the teaching of ' exact met h-
ods ' wh ich, however, hardly ha ve anything
to do with the real subjeCis studied at the
school. (See A. Friishaug : Visu..lIe Mcthodik,
ULM 4).
of possible factors and combinations. Although the theory should be able
to cover the architectural structures of any epoch, this does not imply
that architecture has an absolute basis. In itself the theory is ' empty' .
The theory consists in dimensions of comparison which make possible
the description (analysis) of any architectural totality (intermediary object)."
In the previous section we have discussed some of these dimensions, but
we have so far left out several conspicuous aspects of the architectural
totality.
The most obvious of these aspects is the technical structure, that is.
the role of materials and buildi ng constructions. Firstly we understand
that the technical dimension docs not form a part of the building task.
The technical possibilities surely belong to the prerequisites the architect
has to take into consideration, but this does not prevent technics from
being a means to the solution of the tasks. As both form and technics
belong to this categor)'. one could imagine the possibility of bringing them
together in a unified means-concept. This, however, is not expedient. The
syntactical analysis describes formal properties without asking how the
forms are materially constructed. It is also an empirical fact that the
formal organization often stands in oppositon to or is independent of the 16
construction. 76 A confusion of form and technics would furthermore result
in qualitative concepts like ' load-bearing forms' . In describing certain
buildings the formal concepts may dominate, while others above all demand
the employment of technical terms.
77
It is therefore necessary to establish
the technical dimension as an independent category, next to the building
task and the form. The distinction between technics and form, however,
is not always evident. The character of a surface (texture, colour) is for
instance a function of material properties. And still it has to be understood
as an aspect of the formal dimension. We can express thi s state of affairs
by saying that the different materials have parti cular formal possibilities,
while their technical possibilities consist in their faculty of carrying weights,
spanning over, dos ing off and insulating against, and not least in their
ability to be worked into technical clements which constitute technical
systems. The role of technics in the architectural totality will therefore
be treated in a separate chapter. 78
102
In the writing- memionoo, Scdlmavr
structu ral analyses. The integr ated
theory of architcnure offer. the b,sis for all
analy= , a. well a' gene_
t iul and comparat ive
For ;n.tao" in the areh it ecture of the
Renaissance where the architectural orders are
technicallj- 'fictive', , llached to t he real man-
. tructure. (See D. Frey: Hr"rntl"us St _
Ent N'''''! N'>i/ rri,u Wien 1915).
77 Th;s applies 10 Gothic :lI"ehitectuJ'e and
a!.o to much of modern architecture. See C.
>:orberg-Schub : Nervi _ ingeniiir ellef ;If.
kiteh" , in Bygge1(unsr, NO.2, T<l.
78 Vi:ruvius ,I ready diWngui.hed the tech-
nin! aspect u a $epar, te category (jirmi /4S.
I , Ill, 2), and most theorists have followed
him. ho...-ever. the technical dimen-
sion is treatecl i n iroliuio". In some cases it
has been given prime importmce, especially
by Semper who derived the form (. tyle) from
she technical meth ods of production (lkr Sril
in aen tednisdU':n una Xi", n e1l .
1861>-63). The same tendency has turned up
recently in the ...Tiling. of P. L. Nervi , who
says tha t the main task of the architect is
-e conceive the t<'Chnical S!'.: em (Coltrui . e
Milano J955).
Another problem which has to be discussed, is the fact that any building
belongs to an environment and forms a part of a larger context. Thi s may
consist in its relationship to the local topographical conditions (the building
site), to the landscape in general, or to other buildings and semi-architectural
elements (terraces, freestanding walls, fountains, monuments etc.). But it
may also consist in a functional relationship to other objects; in other
words, the building task it serves forms a part of a more comprehensive
task. ' The relationship to the environment' , therefore, above all designates
certain aspects of city-planning." From these suggestions we already under-
stand that it would be inexpedient to introduce the relationship to the
environment as a new basic category. Rather it appears as subordinate
aspects of all the other dimensions. It enters the definition of the building
task, the technical solution has to be in accordance with the local conditions
(soil, climate etc.), and the formal analysis naturall y has to take the sur-
roundings of the building into consideration. so \Ve may describe a work
of architecture functionally, technically and formally, and the aspects of
the environment have to be distributed under these headings.
The light as an architectural factor also has to be distributed in a 31
corresponding way. The need for a certain illumination generally forms
a part of the building task, and the geogr aphical conditions will determine
the possibilities for a natural ' illumination. The light is also a formal
factor, through its intensityJ as well as through the distribution of lighter
and darker zones, reflections, transparencies, and sources of illumination.
Finally, we recognize in our time the technics of illumination as a separate
discipline.
Another problem we so far have skipped is the so-called ' scale ' . In
contr ast to ' proportion ' J which designates the interrelations of physical
dimensions, ' scale' designates the ' real' size. The real size obviously has
to be measured relative to a dimension of comparison, such as the metre
or the human figure. ' Scale ' , therefore, is usually employed to designate
the relationship of the sizes of a building to man himself. As buildings
serve human actions, any building task will prescribe a particular scale. 51
Of interest to us is the fact that the architectural form varies with the size.
The properties of a particular formal organization change when it is made
very large or very small, and the organization may dissolve completely if
13
79 Th e present theory of architecture is in-
dependcnt of rhe .::>:1.:n1/ on of the architectural
rcrality. It is also valid when applied to uc_
banistic units.
80 Usually we em distinguish between an
external' :Illd :In intern al' spu e. In present.
day n chitccruce the boundaries between these
.paces are oftcn ambiguous nr indefinite. The
last case, however, is :lIso open to exact
analysis.
8\ Th is, however. does not entitle us 10
characterize one .izc :II m"", ' human ' than
anot her. The word foot , for innance. does
nOI m er to a human propcny as maint:Linffl
by Ra,mu,sen (op. cir. , p. 12.{), bur deno mi_
nares a pracr.ie:ll rool for mea'urement!..
this is carried beyond certain limits. A square room measuring 3 x 3 metres
surrounded by closed walls 2 metres high, may with justification be treated
as a space-cell ' which could be unified with other cells to form a spatial
composition. If we increase the dimensions to 300x 300 metres, the formal
conditions will be completely different, even if we increase the height of
the walls proportionally.12 We have to infer that the validity of any formal
system presupposes a particular scale. Empirical insight shows that the
change of the formal properties relative to the size is not continuous (this
would in reality make any order impossible). Instead we find that some
systems have a large: range of validity, others a more limited one. Buildings
normally belong to the same general group. whereas larger lay-outs and
urban units demand a certain revision of the formal principles. IJ
Finally we have to mention that the incorporation of plastic arts, of
ornament and other types of decoration has to be considered both under
the functional and the formal dimension. H For the architectural form,
decoration is of decisive importance. Through decoration a plastic form
can both be accentuated, or on the contrary assigned a mere surface-like
character. 15 The decoration may also indicate how the form as a whole
should be interpreted. "
We may conclude that a description of the architectural totality has
to be carried out by means of three basic dimensions: Building Task,
Form, and Technics. The classification is not very original. but we hope
in this study to define the categories more precisely than it has been done
previously. " It is also imperative that we investigate the interrelations
between the dimensions. How is it possible to represent a building task
through a formal structure, and how can the form be translated' into
a technical solution? The architectural totality is completely described
when we also have answered these semantical questions. M The semantical
dimension thus covers the changing relations between the pragmatical,
formal, and technical aspects. A typical way of organizing the architectural
totality, we will call an "architectural system ' . Thus we may talk about
' the architectural system of the early Renaissance' , as well as about' Bru-
nelleschi's architectural system' , The word' styl( ' will be used to designate
a characteristic formal organization. It is essential to realize that the
'4
82 Th i, does not ;.n ply b<.holder
our formal dcscriptioo. We only
size form' an of the
fwm. The size i. described in trrms of
of comparison.
83 The extre mely extended centre of
g:orh as planned by Lc: Corbu,kr, seemingly
stands in to lr:Hiitionai priociples
ot city-planning.
3'4 In pan .uch Ges""" k""srswrke wrr e
normal. Today the integration of the ant is
much dUcuuN, but SO far no convincing
tol ution has been found .
81 Vogt-GOknii (op. cr., pp. 80 fl.) main-
tains the "aarrcw' of Romanesquc
2S mult from the heuy man-fonm
of the space houncbries.. She forgets, however,
the surfaces of the g cmanesque churches
were painted. in .uch way this inter -
pretation becomes irrelevant .
66 For instance in :!>fichcla.ngd os Cappella
Medici .... a . enical addi tion of three
zones corresponds to an iconographic di.ision.
(See C. Norberg-Schulz : .l.ficJ,rl""gelo ...'"
""'kitekt, Oslo 1!)5S).
19 11 In principle n cormponds to Vim.viu. '
.. tilittu, tI'<"1lusWs, firmitas.
as Archilecture differs from m.1ny other
.ymboJ. byincluding the technical mI-
iz.:>Uon as :lD integrating pari of system.
A book may be printed in economical or
luxury editions without changing it. informa -
lion value. But we cannol i.rrnIgine an
"econcrnical edition ' of St. Peter' s, for inst
ancc in cardboard.
architectural totality is the phenomenon which has to be investigated.
A building is given as a totality, and the architects aim at the creation
of such totalities. It is not correct to see the technical realization as the
'real' result. A rocailie, for instance, cannot be described technically, but
only formally. The form, as well as the building task and the technical
aspect are abstractions from the work of architecture. which we designate
as an "architectural totality";" The totality is a building task realized
t( chnicaJly within a style. 90
When investigating the building task we will employ Gregor Paulsson's
distinction between the physical and symbolic aspects of the environment.
This distinction corresponds to our classification in physical and socio-
cultural objects. The building task is investigated by pointi ng out the
objects which may influence the architectur al solution. At the outset we
will put forward the hypothesis that there exists a functional relationship
between architecture and all the main classes of the object-world. We
assume that the purpose of architecture not only consists in giving physical
protection, but also in giving a frame for actions and social structures, or in
representing a culture. Our fur ther investigation will show if this holds
true, or if the functional relationship is more limited and exhibits historical
variations. The dimension 'building task' tells us which aspects of a way
of life are mirrored in architecture. It is therefore not enough to render
an account of the "contents' of the di mension; we also have to ask why
man at a particular time found it necessary to solve particular tasks."
Thi s question bridges the gap between architectural anal ysis and the history
of culture , by asking for the (changing) role of architecture in history.
The investigation of the buildi ng task needs information from psychology,
physiology, sociology and cultural anthropology. In general, this infor m-
ation is given in the second part of the present study.
The analysis of the architectural form is based upon the description of
elements and rekuions:" We have already suggested that the d ements
may be defined as 'space-cells ', mass-forms' and ' bounding surfaces' .
Or the element can be a Gestalt combining such aspects. We have to
investigate in further detail how the elements should be chosen to be
convenient. In part II of the study we have seen that the relations may be
topological or Euclidean. When combining dements and relations we arrive
19 Thi. totality, is
90 This is probably Whal D.
he slateS that architecture is
isch (K,,,,st ...
Grunilnsgl!lI. 1946, p. <;16). Frey gi'fes
the building task (i ff ZWk) a role which
corresponds to the CODIC'Dt (wbj m -mana) of
pictorial arts. definition of Frey is
rakeD over by Cor nell (op. cit. , p. 19).
91 This corresponds 10 the distinction be.
tween iconography ' and ' irooology ' in
recent an theory.
92 Th e immed iate experience knows no
dements. And nil! it is ace atomism' to
i nCljhi! in ter ms of wittgenstein
bas shown that a has to be carried
out by means of clements and relations. that
is, vom G:gell.ltand her ".
I
at a formal struct ure, or in short, a form . Frankl has used the terms ' row' ,
'group ' , and ' hierarchy' to designate some types of formal structures. We
will try to carry this classification further. It is also important to examine
the problem of the "formal Ievels". The building type, for instance, may
be considered as one level. A basilica has its part icular possibilities as a
type, but the type can he combined with the most different spatial and
plastic levels. The style also belongs to the formal dimension. We have
already referred to the results of information-theory in saying that the
norm used as a dimension of comparison for the judgement of the indi-
vidual work, is the most probable formal structure possible within the
formal language in quesdon. " We may characterize a style by means of
these probable structures, hut it is always difficult to distinguish between
the most probable and the slightly less probable. It is therefore more con-
venient to let the concept ' style' cover all the elements, relations and
structures which form a meaningful system, with the qualification that
they appear with a varying degree of probability. Thus the terms ' style'
and' formal language' are synonymous. The formation of types is closely
connected with the more probable aspects of the style. The investigation
of types and styles presupposes genetical studies, having the formal deccl-
opmcnt as its subject-matter. We also have to render an account of the
capacity of forms and styles, that is, their ability to receive contents. The
capacity of the forms varies according to their organization and articula-
tion. Finall y, the formal investigation leads up to a making precise of
concepts like quality and originality . The formal investigation needs sup-
port from the psychology of perception and from system-theory, We have
seen that Gestalt psychology, and above all, the studies of Piaget furnish
important information. When later applying our theory to a problem like
architectural perception, it is also useful already to possess an appropriate
terminology. As architecture serves man, it seems natural to introduce
psychological concepts rather than abstract mathematics.
The technical dimension is analysed by describing how technical ele-
ments are made from materials and organized into technical systems. The
capacity of such systems has to be investigated, that is, their ability to
realize building tasks. Log-construction, for instance, has a very limited
106
93 This definition contr ast, with the Pla_
tome ide::l tMl the foll:lUl $UU((W"e ailIU at
all ide2l petfection . Thill 1dea has led to the
miscollCCplion that pcrfecrion j, whu is ' ;K;l_
do:mic:dly corrt' . Tod:Iy we undersu nd.
however. thar COnectocn rather implies ba..
nality. The Platonic misconeeption i, oflen
repealed. lor instance by P. A. Micheli,
(' Refinements in Archilture ' , in lou mal 0/
Au/hel,el ..tid Art Criticism , Vol. XIV. NO. 1,
Sept. 1955) who Slates l hat the work of archi-
tecmre ill ' but a reflection of an archetype' ,
uDder the heading ' The Struggle for Perfec_
tion in An ' .
capacity. The problem of style, however, docs not pertain to the technical
dimension. A technical system really aims at perfection, and does not give
information through the employment of more or less probable solutions.
A technical system, therefore, is not a symbol-system, but a means to realize
a symbol-system materially. 94 Architecture reduced to the technical di-
mension is only able to take care of the simplest physical functions.
The question of the role of technics makes us approach the semantical
aspect. What relations exist between task, form, and technics? Is it true
that 4 form follows function ' , or has Mies van der Rohe introduced a new
and fruitful approach to the problem by inverting this slogan? Is the form
always a mediator between task and technical realization ? Such questions
have to be answered in the chapter on architectural semantics. In describing
the interrelations of thc dimensions, we return to the concepts of ' con-
vention ' and ' structural similarity' . The semantical relations are of central
importance to our theory because the architectural problem par excellence
consists in the co-ordination of forms and tasks. If this aspect is neglected
we will end up with empty forms and unsatisfied needs. " The chapter
on symbolization furnishes the basis for a solution of the semantical
problem. To facilitate the semantical investigation it is important that the
three main dimensions are described by means of structural properties.
In this way they can easily be correlated.
When the semantical contact between the dimensions has been estab-
lished, we may return to the architectural totality. This consists in replacing
the logically correct description with a perspicuous and relevant description.
The relevant description assigns different degrees of importance to the
different poles, and aims at understanding the work of architecture as an
organism (coherence-system). Hence it indicates the formal aspects which
are connected with relevant pragmatical components, as well as those which
are mere by-products".M The relevant description thus explains the archi- 33
tectural intention. We will call the complete procedure a structural
analysis' . The structural analysis tries to understand the work of art as
a 'small world ' (Sedlmayr), that is, as a concretization. As suggested
above, qualitative concepts may be introduced to cover certain aspects of
the totality. The qualitative concepts designate wholes formed by melting
together several analytical dimensions. Such concepts might also be called
10]
94 It does. however, ilIum-n e the [echnic:l.l
possibilities of the epoch. But mil does not
impl y .I reb oon bct:wel:n iccbnia and ot""
cbjecrs, As iOOfI .II a technical 1011Ition is
understood as Iymbolning. it is imerpreted
10"""ll/y. In modern. lUinting
technic21 experimems .Ire presenled com_
plete works of art. It may of course happen
that the resulu are wor ks of art, if t he forms
happen tn concretize an intermediar y object.
When it is lbat we should enjoy non_
figurative ut as we enjoy nature. that is a.
pure 1_ . lhis expresses a misconception.
Our cn;oymcnt of flowers, birds. woods. and
mcuata ics ue deter mined by the meani ngs'
they manifest. From childhood on we have
determin ed relationships to these mings. rda-
tionships whif;h only by exception arc fonn21.
95 This is where modern architecture u.ually
fails. The study of function and technics and
the formal experiments have resulted in con-
fusion and emptiness because the sernantical
rebunns have been forgotten. Alberti was
conscious of [he problem. and most of the
gr eat epochs of [he pase taken it for
gr anted that ecruin forms have to be ran-vcd
for ec:rrain ta.ks.
96 The 'heaven-aspiring' lpace of Gothic
architecture was hardl y intended.
I
'characterizing ' , because they do not belong to the analytical investigation,
but aim at summing up some of the results in a simple formula. In doing
this, however, they do not replace the analysis. As already mentioned,
they have a different purpose. Instead of describing the organization of
the work of architecture, they should have an inciting effect and facilitate
the communication between individuals knowing their meaning. By com-
paring the individual work with the architectural system it belongs to,
we may determine its architectural quality.
In general, the theory not only enables us to carry through structural
analyses, but in itsd f explains architecture as a symbol system.
108
2. The building task
INTRODUCTION
The purpose of architecture is to give order to certain aspects of our
environment. When we say 'give order to our environment' , this implies
that architecture controls or regulates the relations between man and his
environment . It therefore participates in creating a milieu ' , that is, a
meaningful frame for the activities of man. The building task comprises
the aspects of the environment which concern us. We might of course
render an account of these by making a catalogue containing all existing
building tasks, classify the items and analyze the properties of the classes.
This procedure would lead to a general definition. The method, however,
is cumbersome and involves the danger of tying ourselves to the actually
existing building tasks, without seeing important possibilities for a revision
of these. In the preceding. we have suggested that this method should be
supplemented with an investigation of those aspects of the object world
which may be related to architecture. In the following, therefore, we will
use physical, social, and cultural objects as dimensions of comparison. and
by means of historical examples examine their contributions to the building
task. An historical survey shows that the contributions are changing.
Sometimes architecture pri marily has symbolized cultural objects, while
the practical ' aspects have dominated on other occasions.
Physically, architecture constitutes one of the most import ant aspects
of the environment, and if we also take semi-architectural elements into
consideration, such as roads, squares, and gardens, we arrive at a net-
work J of interrelated components which are connected with practically
all human activities. Architecture participates in these activities by forming
a practical frame, an adequate psychological background, and by expressing
that what takes place is of importance to the community. (It may of
course also ' participate ' by forming an unpractical and unfortunate frame.)
1"9
Originally all these aspects were unified in a general demand for pro-
tection to secure the survival of the species. The clothes may be considered
den ersten Angrifl des Menschen auf die Umwelt ",1 and the first buildings
an extension of the clothing. But the simplest tents and huts already fulfil
several practical functions which the clothing does not master. Besides,
they give visual expression to a social structure; while the clothes are pri-
vate, the house is normally used by several individuals who live together
in an ordered way. In the earliest civilizations it was impossible to dis-
tinguish between the practical arid the religious (magical), and the house
must immediately have got a meaning transcending its purely practical
purpose. The door, for instance, had a particular importance as the element
which closes, opens and makes invisible." A Sumerian bride, thus, received
a door as part of her dowry. The idea of seeing the symbolical as a deriva-
tion of the practical, therefore, is a modern misunderstanding. The need
for protection above all concerned the 'demonic forces' in nature, and
the climate and the changing seasons were attached to magical ideas. J
We have seen that the same attitude may still be studied among primitive
people, and we have given an outline of their object-world which differs
fundamentally from the scientific one. For primitive man, the world
(environment) is full of magical forces.
The first pennanent huts in Sumer were built by bending rushes,
without removing the roots from the ground. The rushes were tied together
at the top, and the arches formed in this way were connected with hori-
zontal sticks. The resulting hut had its roots in the ground, and hence
was unified with the element from which life gets its nourishment. We
still use the expression ' mother earth '. 4 Another primitive means for the
control of the environment ', is the fenced enclosure. Here, too, we find
the same characteristic synthesis of practical, social, and cultural functions.
In Egypt, where the rainfall is extremely scarce and outdoor life therefore
of prime importance, the enclosure probably from the beginning formed
a part of the house. ' But magical ideas are spontaneously introduced :
Dcr crste architektonisch folgcnrcichc EingrifI in die von magischen
Gewalten durchwirkte Umwelt war wahl die Heraushebung und Ein-
hegung cines Bezirkes, des Tcmenos, der so in cin Sondervcrhaltnis zu
den Machten gebracht wurdc. Hicr solltcn sic wohnen oder hier soliten
IIO
25
I G. Bandmann: Arc;';
uktur "/$ Bul in 1951,
pp. 133
2 w. op. cit. pp. 36 If .
j E. Baldwin Smith: Egypt;a"
at Cultural New Yor k '938, p. 17.
4 AndTlle: op. cit., p. 47. Also il!\I$t ralcd
in Lundberg : op . cit. I, p. 1')4.
Smilh : op. cit. , p. 23.
sie ferngehalten wcrdcn... Hicrmit wurde die emotional unsicheren Grenzen
zwischen Ich und Ausscnwelt gefcstigt. "6 The examples show that the
primitive forms of building resulted from the need for protection, and
that physical as well as social und cultural aspects were unified in this
need. Physical protection, social stability as a new problem in the first
civilizations, and cultural tradition in the form of primitive religious
conceptions' of life, were united in a magical synthesis (intermediary
object) which modern man is hardly able to experience. In other words,
the ' effect' of the first huts was to offer protection against a capricious
and dangerous physical environment, and to offer security by being a
visual expression of the group, and at the same time protecting against
the hostile and ' collaborating' with the life-giving forces.
'
We may also
recognize a feedback in the fact that the huts reacted on the religious
conceptions. This is expressed in the early assumption that the gods live
in hut s (the unknown represented by the known). The first temples,
hence, were imitations of human dwellings. S The examples make us grasp
the fundamental importance of building in the early civilizations, and the
enclosure and the hut present themselves as the first expressions of man's
attempts at mastering his environment by changing it accordingly to his
own needs and wishes. Later the building tasks became more differentiated
(specialized), a development which has reached a peak in our own time,
wi thout, however, resulting in a visual order. The differentiation above
all consisted in assigning the role of cultural symbolization to certain
buildings (temples, churches, palaces, town-halls etc.), while others re-
mained purd y practical.
In general we may say that architecture controls the environment in
order to make interaction and collaboration possible. " This control has
several different aspects. The most elementary is the creation of an 'arti-
ficial climate', protecting man against rain, wind, cold, heat, moisture,
noise, insects, wild animals, enemies, and other evils in the surroundings.
We will call this aspect' physical control ' . Another aspect of the physical
mi lieu is the participation of buildings in human actions. This problem
we will study under the heading ; functional frame ' . 10 The actions,
however, are socially determined, and the physical objects participating
(e. g. the buildings) therefore manifest social meanings. The buildings form
III
6 Bandmann : op. (it. , pp. 133 fl .
1 H. So:hmockel: Dill unJ Sum", Stull-
gart 199>. pp. 130 ff.
& Andrae: op. cir., pp. 6] ff.
9 We might oompat e: society with a football
te-am, wher e e:yC"fJ r=mbc:r plaY' his patti.
c:ular role. and hu to adjust himsdf to what
the: ot hers do. It is possible: to play football
011 any hot izontal plain. but the: pm<: OIl1y
acquires real me::ltling whc:n a field with de
remined measures and properties is used, that
i.. an ' at thitC"etur ai frame ' _
10 Puectionahsrn was concerned with this
a, pe:eI of the: buil ding t ask.
a part of the ' social milieu '. Finally, architecture may represent cultural
objects like religious, philosophical, or cosmological conceptions. Together
with the social aspect, this ' cultural symbolization ' makes up the symbol.
milieu. II The building task, thus, will be studied in further detail by
means of four dimensions of comparison.
P HYSICAL CONTROL
The physical control is the better understood aspect of the building task. 12
Acoustics, illumination, heating, and air-conditioning have become highly
developed specialties where the architect only in part is competent. In the
followi ng we will not enter upon the particular problems of these fiel ds,
but limit ourselves to some general remarks on the role of the physical
control within the building task. It is expedient to take the existing
specialties as a point of departure, because the specialties are functions
of the physiological constitution of man. 13 We thus distinguish between
the control of :
Climate (air, humidity, temperature, wind, rainfall etc.)
Light
Sound
Smell
Things (dust, smoke, insects, animals, persons)
(Radio-activity).
Most of these factors arc 'geographical ' , and we understand that the
physical control above all is concerned with the relations between the
building and its surroundings. The environment affects the building with
energies .....hich have to be controlled. In principle, this may be extended
also to comprise movements of persons and goods, but we find it con-
venient to include these problems under the heading ' functional frame".
In saying that the physical control consists in relations between the build-
ing and its environment, we anyway imply that it depends upon the human
activities the building should serve. According to the functions of a
building, the needs for heating, illumination etc. change. An architect,
therefore, does not have to study climate (geography) or physiology in
general, but needs only abstract what is directly related to the physical
1I 2
II G. Paul, son (Ny slad, pp. 30 ff . and
Bruk od. d""s not make the
nc(:e"ary dist inctinn bctw""n >o<ial and cul-
tunl milieu.
12 Without, however, considering sufficiently
the Auman component .
U In principle this conespoll<h In a c1 aS1 i
"c arion .according to the senses.
aspects of the building tasks. 14 As the physical control is correlated with
functional factors, and as the functions on their hand are dependent upon
social and cultural factors, we understand that it is an abstraction to study
the physical control as a separate problem.
Firstly we can investigate the ability of the building materials to
insulate against cold, noise, humidity, etc. We also develop mechanical
aids for the creation of ' artifici al climates' . 15 In both cases, though, we
are treating ' technical presuppositions' , means which actually belong
under the technical dimension. We may, however, also study the physical
control as an 'exchange of energies' . To permit this, we will introduce
the concepts ' filter ', ' connector ' , 'barrier' and ' switch ' (Filter,
bindung, Spcrre, Schalta). An opaque wall thus serves as a filter to heat
and cold, and as a barrier to light. Doors and windows have the character
of switches, because they can stop or connect at will. In general we define
a ' connector ' as a means to establish a direct physical connection, a ' filter'
as a means to make the connection indirect (controlled), a 'switch' as a
regulating connector, and a ' barrier' as a separating element. All possible
conditions of physi cal control entering the building task can be analyzed
26
by means of these' fi lter ' concepts. 16 As a result we arrive at a clear
definition of the needs for connecting and separating elements. The
' structural properties' of the dimension ' physical control ' are thus de-
scribed in terms of elements and relations. The elements are ' energies'
(existing and desired), the relations 'filters' which transform the existing
energies into the desired ones.
The physical control not only influences the inner organization of a
building and its technical solution (such as the placing of noisy activities
far from rooms where silence is desired, or the placing of rooms not
needing daylight in a dark core), but also its orientation relative to
sunlight and wind. In a hard climate the physical control demands that
the outer walls should be as short as possible, or it prescribes particular
protecting devices (projecting roofs, brise-solcil etc.). The physical control,
therefore, determines what we call ' regional character ' . 11 This aspect of
architecture has not been closely investigated, and we only insufficiently
take the physical control into consideration in our historical studies. 18 Its
importance is obviously especially great in ' utilitarian' buildings, and in
H Such an ' applied physiology' i.J already
studied in 5eveTai schools.
15 Ventilation . heating, illumination etc.
16 symboh shewn as fig. X) could be
used to carry out a graphic analysis of phy'
sical control demanded by the buildi ng task.
The circles represent the functional zona'
Pa:dal. The same diagram, therefore, is a1..,
mal ro analyu functional relations . Arrows ro
indicate the direction of the energies may be
introduced. The number of possible combina-
tions depends upon t he number of elements.
When analyzing, the different physical di
mensions have to be introd uced in turn. The
di agram aids the development of standard-
iud, regular technical systems, as it furnishes
a panem representing the demands fOf" phys-
ical COlltrOI. Existing building may also be
.:mal yud by maJ:\'l of the diagram to deter-
mine the role played by physical control dur-
iog t he planning.
11 In contrast to cultural etc. cbauetet .
U For the influellCe of climate on arehi-
tecture sa: E. Egli : Du Sl4tit i n !..ImJ-
schll/l u"d Klimll. For the
problem of physical rontrol in city planning
see L. Hilberseimer : The New City. Chi-
cago 1944.
primitive architecture where the functions arc barely differentiated (igloo,
wigwam, hut ctc.);" Fortifications which have to resist the assaults of
men and war-machinery are also determined by the need for physical
control'. The same holds true for the' flexible ' plans of our time, where
the subdi vi sion may be varied within a physically controlling frame
(external wall). N Le Corbusier's demand for 'light, air and greenery' ,
finally, expresses the fact that the growing industrial city has given too
little attention to the physical control. 21
F Ul'o"CTIONAL FR.. ...ME
As a matter of course. a building is determined by the actions which take
place within its walls. In the present section we will consider the physical
aspects of the actions; a certain number of persons have to do something,
and need a practical architectural frame for their actions. 22 It might seem
impossible to abstract this aspect from the social milieu, but we should
remember that two buildings may very well serve the same practical
purpose, without creating a similar social milieu. It is actually a fact that
the desired milieu has changed continuously through history, while the
functional aspects have remained more constant. Only in our time have
the functions become problematical, as a result of the fundamental changes
in our way of life. 13
The investigation of the role of the functions within the building task,
might start with a classification of all the possible actions which need an
architectural frame. This method, however, is rather cumbersome. Instead
we will try to define certain basic properties which characterize the actions.
Firstly we can establish the fact that any action needs a certain space.
Sometimes this space has to be accurately measured, as when we play
tennis, other times it may vary within more or less determined limits.
In most cases we can speci fy the minimum measures needed, for instance
to allow a certain number of persons to eat or sleep. " Often it is also
possible to establish maximum measures, because an extension beyond a
certain size would make the connections long and unpractical. A kitchen,
thus, should be rather' compact ' to function well. 25 Maximum measures
are also valid in city planning. The centre of a city, for instance, ought
I' See A. H. Brodrick: ROOll . Hu ts,
Igloos. WigW:lIlH scuercs of t he
in .4rcloir... t ,uill R.. ..w ,
Fe!lfIu ry 19$4, pp. 101 If .
!\) T1u: concept ' fOlm' in me: 'fune.
tion follow. form' r.-lieo da Rohe:) cern-
prises an
11 Lc: Coebusier . L. .1.1lli,o". .. JXIuim. See
also Mumford : op. cit .
II The term' action also rompris.cs activi.
lics where human beings a nI)' indirecll y
tkipate.
!J In Ihe: ninetcrnlh eemur )' new
building appc:arrd, wh>ch h:ld [Q find
their solution. It has tah n ' OIl-IS'" years to
approach their functional while: the
svrnbol-mjlicu i . still hhnk.
24 Xeufert"s TI.m Cl1l lV"'fsld".. contains '\Jeh
measures for all possible fUrIctioos.
25 The de ma nd that a dwelling has to be
f'raetieal is not created by modern Iuncricn -
Alberti put forward the long ago
(Y, xr v} , Today , however . we regard the Re
nais!.3nce p:abets h'ghly unpr acI;u l. We
und erstand thaI of the ccn -
is
to be planned on the pedestrian scale, and the size of a neighbourhood'
is, amongst other things, determined by the maximum distance between
the homes and the school. 26
The functions not only prescribe the size of the spaces, but generally
also their form. A functionally founded building topology, hence, is not
only possible, but highly desirable. Often, however, the form varies inde-
pendently of the size. A restaurant for a certain number of persons may
be circular as well as square, rectangular or irregular. But in any case the
form must permit the functions of serving and eating to take place in a
convenient way. The form thus is often determined by the fact that most
functions consist in a series of actions which are connected with different
places (locations). The functional frame has to adapt itself to such action-
complexes. Already the simplest everyday activities illustrate this problem :
food preparation serving . consumption; sleep - washing . dressing, etc.
On the other hand, we also know actions which need isolation, such as
certain types of study and research.
Functions, thus, are more or less connected with particular places, more
or less complex and more or less isolated (independent). This implies that
they do not only ask for a more or less determined space, but also that
a number of 'action-places' have to be interconnected. When we describe
the functional aspect of the building task, these connections are usually
treated first. By means of topological diagrams where the action-places
are represented by circles or rectangles, and the connections as joining
lines, the functional structure may be analyzed." Such a diagram becomes
still more useful it if is combined with the "f il ter t-symbols we introduced
in the section on physical control. The directions of the connections are
also important, as the functions form series and ramifications which
determine the functional frame. 21
Important problems result from the mutability of the action-structures.
A family, for instance, changes; it is founded, grows, and decreases again
when the children become independent. Previously this was of minor im-
portance to the functional frame, because several generations usually lived
together, creating relatively stable (invariant) functional conditions. Today
the generations are separated, and the functional needs of the single family
become variable. To solve this problem one has tried to develop ' flexible'
26
26 Sec A. H. Gallion: The Uri en Pilltun,
New York 1950, p. 2]8.
27 See for instance Neufert . op. cir., p. 178
(loth ed. 194: ) Ice the IOpologicJI diJKTJm
of a bank.
As an u<lT"Iplc we may analyze a dwell .
ing with the funetioM living (L), sleeping (5),
hygiene (H), and food-preparation (K). The
filler -symbol. at e introduced wilh the ap-
propriate directions. A diagum
could be applied 10 a compide cil)-orgallism.
In principle. me functions an: ;as a
group of activities which an: scp.traled or
CORRCl:ted.
architectural frames, where the number and the sizes of the spaces may
be changed at will. Z9 The need for flexibility may also result from the
expansions or retrenchments of a firm. Modern office-buildings, therefore,
usually permit a free subdivision of the inner space. In this way new
occupants can adapt the functional frame to their particular needs. We
should be careful, though, not to generalize the flexibility idea. Some
building tasks comprise a need for flexibility, others do not.
In general we may say that the functional frame should represent an
action-structure by manifesting the spatial, topological, and dynamic char-
acteristics of the functions. To render an account of the functional aspect
of the building task, we have to describe these action-structures. We may
thus talk about ' rows ' (' series"), ' clusters', and ' groups' of actions. In
the first case the actions follow each other in linear succession; a pre-
cessional road with ' stations' is a characteristic example. Clustered actions,
instead, arc actions which have to take place close to each other without
necessarily having defined interrelations. A shopping-centre may contain
cluster-structures: certain shops should be situated together without, however,
a determined order. The term ' grouped functions' , finally, designates an
organization where the character and position of each d ement is precisely
determined. A dwelling contains such action-structures. The functional
structure of a building task may be called the functional theme' of the
architectural totality.
The functional theme can never be studied in isolation. Its functions
will always be related to the functional aspects of the surroundings. From
the smallest utensils to the most encompassing geographical environment,
there exists a functional continuity. The artifacts serve actions which are
also related to the architectural frame. Such actions may have a cert ain
independence (e. g. the functions of the dwelling), but in other respects
they make up superior systems (such as neighbourhoods) which in their
turn form larger wholes (cities etc.). We will characterize this state of
affairs by talking about ' functional levels' defined by individual properties." 26
The geographical distribution of the buildings of man is due to parti-
cular factors. Paradoxically we may say that the basic problem on the
highest functional level, is the fact that mankind at the same time has
to concentrate and scatter ; scatter to exploit the riches of the earth, and
II6
!9 One of th<.: first attempts to realize
fk d ble was made by
n n der Robe 1927).
j(J The fulKliOl", l l<.: vd. be illus-
trated TI><.: row is open both
ends ' . It is imporunt to me dcm<.:nls
conweni<.:ndy_ Building , =ighbourhood. dty.
region . are some of the ekm<':l\u eonsiderM
ar prnenl . Le Corhusin-, on the other hand .
wann to galher a whole n<.: ighbourhood in ;I
single buildi ng (U" itf dHabiratio,,).
concentrate to make interaction and ' progress ' possible. The distribution
of the settlements therefore forms a ' network ' superimposed on the
network-structures of the natural resources. The network can be described
as a system of interrelated objects. Previously the relations were rather
unimportant and each unit (settlement) had a high degree of self-supporting
independence. After the industrial revolution the connections became
decisive. New means of communication, the locomotive, the automobile,
the aircraft, the telephone, the radio and the television, have broken down
the isolation of the units. 31 A region today, therefore, is just as much
characterized by the types and capacities of the connections, as by the
composition of the units.
During history the functional factor has played a changing role, and
in the same period we usually find architectural totalities where it domi-
nates as well as others where it has minor weight. The theatre, for instance,
is a building task where the functional aspect has been of great importance
since antiquity. The division between the audience and the stage is the
basic point of departure, but a survey of the architectural history of the
theatre shows that this simple functional relationship may be varied in a
number of ways, with different architectural totalities as a result. The
topological relationship between the two basic functional elements is deci-
sive : the audience may surround (partly or completely) the stage (the 27
classical Greek theatre), or the two may face each other (the Roman theatre),
or the stage is pulled back to become a distant, illusive, pictorial image
(the nineteenth century), or the stage may finally surround the spectators
(twentieth-century experiments, Oskar Strnad)." This example shows that
the functional analysis is of no avail, if it only describes 'elements ' without
taking their interrelations into consideration.
A reinterpretation of a functional theme, as illustrated in the theatre
example, may be due to a wish to improve the solution on a purely prac-
tical basis, but more often it stems from a change in the very conception
of what is functional. Such a change, again, depends upon social and
cultural factors. When, during our investigation we isolate the (physical)
functions from these factors, we should remember that this division only
reflects the need for a convenient analytical method. Within the archi-
tectural totality the functions are interwoven with higher poles.
" 7
II The feedback of the connections on t he
objects is one of the Iundamental insights of
our time.
n See D. Frey: ' Zuschauu und Biihne ' ,
in Gru"Jjragt ", pp.
151 tf.
_
Taken together, the physical control and the functional frame make
up what Gregor Paulsson calls the 'physical milieu ' . From what has been
said above, we understand that the physical control is an abstraction from
the function, as any action-place needs a particular artificial climate. Many
action-places belonging to the same architectural totality, however, may
need the same climate, and the "climate-structure", therefore, does not
correspond to the functional structure. The physical milieu also asks for
two different types of relations: functional connections proper, and con-
trolling 'filters' . It is therefore natural and convenient to distinguish
between the two subordinate dimensions of the physical milieu, and to
study these separately.
Scen t, MILIEU
We have already mentioned that artifacts and buildings partiCIpate in
social situations. When defining the building task we have to take this
into consideration and render an account of the social factors which should
enter the architectural concretization. It is convenient to take the basic
concepts of sociology as a point of deparrure. The social purpose of a
building may thus be the expression of a status, a role, a group, a collec-
tivity, or <if' institution; and a collection of buildings may represent the
social system as a whole. It is evident that we here transcend the mere
physical functions. II When the hut of the chief or the palace of the king
was made larger than other buildings, it was to indicate a social status.
When the convents were surrounded by enclosing walls, even in periods
when the need for physical protection was out of date, it was to point
out that we are facing a collectivity of a particular and inaccessible kind. 28
In a democratic society it may not be right to express difference in status,
but it is surely still important to represent different roles and institutions.
Our individual roles should probably not show themselves too much in
the dwellings, as this would contradict the democratic equality of private
persons. But our places of work should be differentiated to show that
the individual roles participate in varying phenomenal contexts. The surgery
of a physician should not only be practical, it must also appear clean and
sanitary. In this way it calms down the patient. The office of a lawyer,
u8
3; r s , n alization that the purpose of ar-
chitecture transcends the of a physical
milieu, i. not new. Cicero SOl id that the col-
umns of the temple are 1I0t only U$ful. b UI
' exalting ' . (m G. Paulsson: D,e Soziale
Di mension de.- Kunst, p. 36).
}I The :md the are to be under.
stood :l.\ to manifot a certain St;lNS.
The ciry walls of Antiquity aDd Mediaeval
times were 001 determined by the need for
defence only, but also sym bolized rillitlU, tha t
is. colloctiviry they separated from the
wild 0.:1.= omside. Th e city wall, therefore.
manifoled justice, security and (See
W. Buunfch: Mittd.uurlid e Stadlbllukunsl
in de.- Tosk"1fa. Berlin ' 953. p. 47)
3'l The person:d. ""1""css,on of a dwelling at
k "-lt has to be hpt within certain limits.
on the contrary, should soothe the worried client by appearing friendly
and confidence-inspiring, at the same time as it expresses that the lawyer
is an able man. 36 In the history of architecture we also often meet archi-
tectural motives which designate important social institutions. The pedi-
ment originally had such a distinguishing function, until it was devaluated
in the nineteenth century by being applied to all kinds of buildings. Till
the appearance of the ' skyscraper' the tower designated the church and
the town-hall. Today the need for an architectural characterization ' of the
different institutions is urgent , although we may no longer be content with
such' signs' as colonnades and towers. Instead, we recognize attempts at
representing institutions by means of -showing' their functional structure.
The idea of expressing roles and institutions is relatively new in present-
day architecture. Early functionalism mainly recognized the physical func-
tions, and evaded all attempts at symbolizing higher objects. J7 Therefore
it was unable to master a building task like the church. Early functionalism
shows that an architecture without social and cultural pole-objects is only
possible in a relatively brief period of transition. Ja From a theoretical point
of view it is important to recognize that the social objects are possible
poles in the architectural totality, and that it is necessary to render an
account of their role.
In general we may say that the regulating participation in human
interaction forms a part of the building task. Buildings and cities both
divide and bring together human beings, and 'milieus' fitted for different
public (or private) activities are created. " A milieu is characterized by
its possibilities for social life. 40 The possibilities for changing activities
and perceptions must satisfy the environmental needs. When we use the
word ' possibilities' , we want to point to the fact that our experience of
the milieu is not only a function of what we actually do, but still more
of what we could do, if we wanted. It is not necessary to go often to
theatres and concerts, but it is important to know that we could go any
time it might please us.
A milieu is always defined relative to particular activities. The same
milieu does not fit all kinds of interactions. It is not snobbishness and
formalism to dress up for festive occasions, any more than it is an unne-
cessary luxury to adapt the architectural frame to changing life-situations.
" 9
36 Ruesch and Kcc, : op. cit ., p. lOS.
37 Sedlrnayr V...-/w t ... , p. 75.
Chau clcri, cically enough, it has been ld t
to the leading spokesman of modern archi_
lC(:turc, s. Giffi ion, to put for ward the de _
mand for a new ' monument ality'.
39 Ru=:h and Ktt. (op. cie., p. uS) uy
tha t we can UK physical th ing<; to determine
who shall meet whom, when , where ,
for how long' .
40 Sa: C. Norberg-Schule. : ' Mulill-hClcnes
miljO' . in Sr. Hall"wi, 1959. pp. 2&; ft.
11.- _
The life-situations are interconnected, and some have a particular impor-
tance as a focus for the changing situations of daily life. Birth and death,
confirmation, graduation, and wedding are such central occasions in
the life of the individual and the family. The collectivity knows other
' symbolic ' situations; in the past the coronation and the sanctification
were expressions of the common values. The milieu, therefore, does not
only consist of different meaningful expressions. but of a hiaarchy of
such. Its single expressions are correlated to particular activities. Often
this correlation is a mere matter of habit, we are accustomed to employ
certain physical objects on particular occasions. But we must also recognize
the fact that a certain physical environment only fits certain activities.
The habits, therefore, are rarely accidental. This is, however. a semantic
problem which will be treated later. At present we will only stress that
any activity has to take place within a psychologically satisfactory frame.
Investigations show that the architectural frame may be favourable or not,
that is, that it influences our attitude;" Hence we could also define the
milieu as the psychological effects of the surroundings. Although any tourist
recognizes that a city, a street or a square can have its characteristic
'atmosphere' . the milieu problem is still hardly taken into consideration
by the architects. H A planned milieu also serves a purpose in human
communication. It creates expectations, guides our thought and our
behaviour, disappoints or satisfies.
We have used the theatre to illustrate the concept ' functional structure'. 27
What has been said above makes us understand that the reason for the
architectural varieties of the theatre, in spite of relatively constant physical
functions, is that it expresses changing human interactions, that is, the
contact between the stage and the audience may be established in many
different ways. The spectator also has a ' role' in the performance, mainly
assigned him by the architectural frame. In the classical Greek theatre
the spectators see each other across the orchestra, they belong to the
scene. The narrator addresses the audience and thus stresses the fact
[hat the spectators really participate, that the plot takes place h(T( and
now. The actors, the chorus and the audience belong to the same
R( lllitiitssphiire. H In the Roman theatre the high SC{1(na and the pulpitum
[ace the audience. The scene is transformed into a picture (relief). The
11.0
41 The church.ycar aims at ouni:t;ng the
life situations in :l meaningf ul p.1IICTn.
42.xe A. H. Maslow and N. L. Mint:t :
Beet' of Enhetic Surroundings ' , in 10'''''111
oj Plyr4ol0ty. Vol. ofl. pp. 1.47 If . and
pp. 459 fl. The aumon start with the state-
ment ; Esmetic.illy ..,ns itive individual s 10-
with city planncn. an C'duc:atOn . and
r elated wor kers have long been intu itivel y
aware of the dfccu of esthetic surroundings.
Yet as far :os We know there have been no
expc:rimmral stud ies publi.hed on the
of beautiful and ugl y "nvironmen u upon
people." II would carry us roo b r to r"nder
a detailed scccune of the =perimelll s. The
rei ulu dearly show that the surroundings
determine our conduct . The architectural
frame creates a more Or les. positive attitude
to tasks and aClinn. Even our physical state
;j infl uenced. It is decisive lhat the environ-
ment POI"""" a certain otder . Disorde r
creates negative at tituJe>.
43 Parsons (op. cit. p. explicitly in.
dudes the surroundings when he defines .1
social totality.
44 Frey: ' Zuscba=r... pp. fl.
Baroque theatre introduced movable scenes which gave the stage spatial
independence. The' distance' between the stage and the audience reached
its maximum in the nineteenth century when the audience faced a purely
illusional word. From being active participants in an interaction, the
spectators had become passive on-lookers, an intended relationship de-
termined by the architectural frame.
While the creation of a relevant milieu still plays a subordinate role
in the design of single buildings, it has gained a certain importance in
city-planning. i{i As a reaction against the chaos of lonely individuals
in the modern metropolis, we have the demand for ' neighbourhoods'
where the inhabitants know each other and can participate in positive
interactions. Only in this way can the ' we-feeling ' develcp. " Problems
of this kind have created the so-called social geography which aims at
defining the 'human contents' of the environment . Instead of running
away from the big city, we should make it inhabitable and inspiring.
In the past the cities were cinlization itself, the native soil of thought .
art, and crafts. The individual could draw from the experiences of
others, and in spite of feudalism and political bondage social life was
in many ways richer than in the present confusion. While this confusion
is mechanized and passivating, the cities of the past show that human
intercourse has a stimulating effect, and must be considered the main
prerequisite for the cultural development. 49 A culture is characterized
by the common institutions which result from human interaction. When 25
man in early times made an enclosure, he defined a domain 28
from the free nature, a domain giving visual expression to the community.
Gradually domains of different character were developed, according to
the purpose they had to serve, and when a roof was put on they became
buildings. One particular domain was always of prime importance, the
public square, where life could unfold in all its variety. The Greek agOTa
originally was a meeting-place, and only later became connected with
commercial activities. The public buildings were joined to the agora but
usually they did not open directly onto it, as if to express that the square
should be reserved for the citizens. The Greeks distinguished three ' quali- 29
tatively' different zones in their cities: the acropolis of the gods, the
agora of social life, and the enclosed houses of private life. Thus the
45 As only cert.:l;n functi onal aspects of the
t....I;. arc take n into oomidcrJ-lion, il ha.
become normal co give churches. auditoriums,
theaU"es and (Onettlhall> the shape of a cine-
ma. It i. forgotlen that thew: rooms have 10
frame vy differenr interactions.
46 See I . Tyrwhill . J. L. Sen, E. N. Rage.. :
The H r<lTt of JI.r Cily. London ' 951; also G.
Paul, son : The Smdy oj Cilin. KOhenhnn
' 959-
T. Paulsscn in Ny Slod, pp. 176 If.
48 G. Paulsson : The Study of Cirin, p. 7G.
49 It is today generally .recognized that the
urhan milieu is depend enr upon zon es r e-
>eTved for the pedestrian.
1 _
I
Greek city had a meaningful architectural form, which corresponded to
the: social structure. The milieu offered the necessary possibilities, and
formed a par t of the cultural totality. 50
The idea of differentiati ng the environment according to the social
structure has (unconsciously) determined most of the urban organisms of
the past, and also the individual buildings. 51 We have reasons to believe
that the problem will again come to the fore. So far , one has been content
with attempts at making functional architecture more ' expressive ' 'with-
out , however, stressing the need for an adequate (relevant) expression.
To solve this problem, it is necessary that the architects incorporate psycho-
logical and sociological information in the definition of the building task.
The social structure has to find its counterpart in a hierarchy of <milieu-
characters ' .
C ULTURAL SYMBOLI ZATION
Architecture itself is a cultural object. It is a human product serving
common human activities. This state of affairs, which will be discussed
in further detail under the headi ng <The architectura l totality ' , should
not be confounded with the relationship between ar chitecture and other
cult ural objects. We have already asserted that art ' expresses' values,
while science describes facts, and that art is one of our means of corn-
municating values to make then become common. In other words, art
symbolizes cultural objects. If architecture is an art , it has to fulfil
thi s criterion. That architecture may symbolize cultural objects is an
empirical fact, since architectural history shows that this aspect h2Sgene-
rally formed an important part of the building task. Why archi tecture
is used in thi s way, however , is a question which so far has hardly been
studied.
As the social structure is based upon common values and symbol-
systems, it is evident tha t the cultural symbolization is closely related
to the formation of the social milieu. In the symbol-mi lieu, which
comprises both aspects, the social milieu mediates cultural objects such
as common values, empi rical (scient ific) construct s, philosophical ideas,
moral codes, religious beliefs, ideological convinctions, and economical
122
so G. Paulsson: Sr1l dy of Cirin , pp.
90
51 Alberti describes the ic.b in book IV, I.
( ullUu I . ymbo liz.:>l iun a. such is
IIOt to <falU, a.
OQc of the art. It i. :.I"" how the
.pnboliu lion is OOnt".
5J Par ""n!: op. ca.. p. II.
conditions. The objects are manifested through social roles, groups and
institutions, and by the physical objects serving social life. We find it
convenient, however, to distinguish between the two aspects of the symbol-
milieu, as the cultural symbolization may also take place
of the formation of a social milieu. A culture is also characterized by
being transmitted in spite of the existing social situation. Thus we are
still able to "understand' Michelangelo or Beethoven. The discussion of
the symbol-mil ieu also becomes clearer if we avoid mixing social and
cultural objects in a diffuse way. It is important to distinguish between
interaction and value, even if they often appear as as{>C'ts of the same
state of affairs. While the social objects and the social milieu always
manifest the cultural objects on which they are founded, the latter have
a certain degree of independence.
An example may illustrate: this fact. When Brunelleschi built S. Lo-
renzo in Florence around 1420 , he broke with the current Gothic style
and realized the first Renaissance church. He did not therefore create
a new social milieu; rather he symbolized new cultural objects. The break
could of course have been made in such a way that it influenced the
social milieu. This would have happened if his solution had not been
acceptable as a 'stage' for the ritual. The existing social milieu thus
demanded that the church buildi ng should symbolize certain cultural
values (religious objects) which could not be touched by the ' experiment-
ing' architect. But Brunelleschi was allowed to 'illuminate ' these in a
new way, that is. to place them in a new phenomenal context. Sol
We may conclude that any social milieu indir ectly symbolizes cultural
objects, while the cultural symbolization can also take place directly by
letting particular architectural forms designate particular cultural objects.
The two possibilities may also be combined. 55
The most characteristic case of indirect symbolization is represented
by roles and institutions which explicitly manifest a higher object. The
King and the Emperor thus have generally symbolized somethi ng more
[han a soci al status. The Roman Emperors claimed to be divine, and
their portraits gradually developed into a fixed "divine type'. 56 The
Imperial palace also manifested the divine order represented by the
Emperor, it became a palatium sacrum where every part was related to
16
54 Brunelle S(hi devdopcr.l thc gcomctrizaricn
which chau Clcri:u:s the forma! of
the Renaissance. In this way tht idea of the
geometrical order of the uni verse was sym-
bolized. The :u:hicvcmcot of Hrunellt$Chi .
therefore, implies a concretization of a new
complex of culruu l objU.
55 G. Sandmann : ' Il:onologie der Archi.
te:l:rur ' , in }tl h, /ouc}, fUr Au thetik Ufla allge-
mn"" K" fln",issefllch" f/ , 1951, p. 74.
56See H. P. L'Or mge: F, ,, I'riflaf'l1t til
DomiJ1llt, 0$10 1958, pp. 34 ff .
symbolic ceremonies. 57 In the palace of Diocletian at Split we are led 30
from the atrium under a 'glorification-pediment' into a domical vestibule.
The pediment before had been a distinguishing motive, and the domical
vestibule combined the traditional importance of the entrance with the
heavenly symbolism of the dome. In the Roman Pantheon we meet a
related. but direct symbolism freed from the connection with roles and
ceremonies. The interior of the Pantheon is divied vertically into three
zones. The lower zone has seven niches which probably received the 31
gods of the heavens, Sol and Luna, and the five planets; the middle zone
showed the twelve signs of the zodiac, and finally the heavenly dome
embraces the whole space. In this way the Pantheon represented the cosmic
order; it resembles Heaven, says Dio Cassius. " The Christian church
took over much of the Roman symbolism, and developed a comprehensive
direct symbolization of religious objects. " The paleo-Christian basilica
represents the Heavenly Jerusalem in the form of the city of antiquity.
The facade is the city gate. the nave and the transept are the main streets
(dccumanuJ-cardo), and the apse with the throne of Chr ist (the altar) 32
is the imperial aula. 61 In the Gothic cathedral the symbolism reached a
climax. While the early Christian basilica took the urban character of
the heavenly city as its point of departure , the cathedral stressed the
hcal'cnly aspect. 61 The cathedral WaJ the heavens for contemporary man; 33
upon entering it one entered heaven. " The large sun-window over the
entrance is dark when seen from the outside, but starts to radiate heavenly
light when one enters the church." The large ' baldachines' which form
the interior space undoubtedly symbolize the heavens, and the glittering
stained-glass windows are like luminous walls of precious stones corre-
sponding to the descriptions of heaven in contemporary literature. In
the mediaeval times popular belief considered precious stones luminous,
The architecture of the Renaissance is also based upon symbolical ideas.
Alberti, thus, gave his great church in Mantua, S. Andrea, a facade where
the motive of the triumphal arch expressed the role of the church as
Porta Coeli:" In the works of Michelangelo we encounter a 'world- 17
architecture' where three zones in vertical succession symbolize respectively
the inharmonious earthly existence of man, the cool peace of the intellect,
and the heavenly perfection of the soul. 67 19
51 E. Smith: Archi/u/u,,,l Sym
holism of lmpmal and
Agu, Princeton 1956, p. '18 .
' It wa, only afl,", the solemo delibera-
tion of the Seoa!e that Ca"ar was granted
the honour of having a gabln! roof (jtlStig;.. m)
on hi. dwelling. ' (Smith: op. cil. , p. 5)'
H. P. L'Orange : Romff sk Idyll, Oslo
199. p. 69
60 Dyggve hu shown that the form of the
patw-Christi:ln chom;h stemo from the Aub
of the Imperial palace. The altar in the apse
substitute. the thro ne of the Emperor . (5
E. D)'ggvc: Aula 54n"ta _ Aula Sa"'-", Ko.
benhavn 1959).
61 H . Sn!lma)'r : Archi"' kou lIlr .rbbiIJcnJc
K..mt, Wien 1945, pp. 5 fl. When church.,.
arc COI1<ec:latro, me hymn ' L""tbs bjer usalem
oocle<ris, dicta. vi.o io' if su ng.
6Z ScdIm.:.}T: cp. cit. , p. II.
&} Sed1marr: Die Entstd"'nz , pp. 97.
13J
'" Sedlmayr : Die Enw eh""g.... pp. 1 fi .
The tam ' rose-window' is misleading, .as the
round window undoubtedly symbolizes the
sun. The sun was considered a
of Chriu or Glory.
Die Enmd,,"' C.. . . p. 136.
66 Norbag-s<:hulz: ' Lc ulOme iet enzi cni
di Alhel-ti'.
6; Ncrberg-Schula : Miche/llngd o. .. , p. 58.
The preceding examples are connected with rather particular cultural
objects. Architectural history, however, tells us about more simple or
'primitive ' symbolizations. From the oldest times the symbolism was
connected with the fundamental stations of human life: birth, procreation,
and death. Primitive man has to master the forces which express them-
selves in these phenomena, just as he has to master the weather, the
seasons and nature. Demonic forces are conquered by giving them a
dwelling, by giving them, so to speak, the body they lack. In this way
they are fixed to a place and may be influenced by man. In the Medi-
terranean region the procreative forces played the most important role. M
During the Megalithic period the symbolism took the cult of the ancestors
as its point of departure. The souls of the ancestors arc active, but they
should not roam freely around. The stone offers them a suitable dwelling
because its hard ness and weight express pcnnancncc and imperi shability.
The stone thus became a manifestation of the procreative force of the
ancestors, an expression of the continuity of the generations. Especially
the erect stone, the menhir, was understood as the abode of the vital
power, as a representation of the phallus. The erect stone also symbolized
power because it takes energy to set it up. Words like ' straight ' and
. erect ' stilI give related associations. The column stems from this
holism, and in Nordic architecture the wooden post had an analogous
meaning. In Greek architecture the column could be substituted by the
human figure. The massive wall also symbolizes power, and this import
is stressed by working our lines which express the force of gravity. In this
way the co-ordinates of verticals and horizontals come into existence,
the distinction between active and passive parts. This abstract order thus
stems from an original diffuse experience of weight and might iness.
Another early symbol is the cave, which extends into the motherly earth
from which all life arises. The goddess of the earth was honoured in
[he caves, and also her son or 'fruit '. The cave represents the first spatial
dement, in contrast to the vertical-horizontal relation which is an order-
ing principle. The unification of these two factors created what we may
cal] ' the first architectural symbol-system' . As the first step in this de-
vclopment, the cave was tectanized, 69 then the space was liberated from
the earth, and 'artificial caves ' were created (dolm(n). Later the menhir
12
5
..
35
36
3.
The following exposition is upon
G. Di( miuclmeeritcs en
d( r anrik(n Kunst , Fuokfurt /M
19H
(,'I characreriseic are the
lithic' tempI... ' on Sec C. Ceschi:
Archi/m"ra d(i k mpli m(g:1/itiri di Mal/a.
Roma 19J9.
was placed in the cave, symbolizing Hieros Camos, the sacred wedding. 70 35
The symbolism gradually became transformed, but it is still perceptible
in the cosmic cave' of the Pantheon.
The changing definitions of the roles of the actors and the audience
in the theatre also have a symbolizing function. In the Greek theatre 27
the actor appears as a plastic figure, as an individual. In the Roman
theatre the scene has become a relief', and the actor represents a different
conception of man. Today again we tr y to interconnect the stage and the
audience. But now the sputators are no longer surrounding the small
ordered world they have created, as in the Greek theatre; instead they
are surrounded by the world on all sides (the ring-stage). They are not
intending an illusion as in the Baroque theatre, but are placed in the
middle of the incessant self-changing energies of the phenomenal world.
In the nineteenth century architecture turned away from cultural
symbolization. The meaningful forms of the past were devaluated, dome 2
and pediment were used to dignify' museums, banks and other insti-
tutions, and the stained-glass window was introduced in the private dwell-
ing. " Only recently the demand for cultural symbolization has again
come to life, because we understand that modern architecture needs this 3.
dimension to create a meaningful environment. 72 The cultural objects
of our time of course differ from those described above, and although
some may exhibit a certain invariance (such as some religious objects),
these also participate in the formation of new intermediary objects.
One may ask if it is nrccssary that architecture should directly
symbolize cultural objects. As a human product of a pronounced practical
character, architecture has a particular ability to show how our values,
how our cultural traditions determine our daily life. Only through cultural
symbolization can architecture show that the daily life has a meaning
which transcends the immediate situation, that it forms a part of a cultural
and historical continuity. The other arts are not able to fulfil this task in
the same way, because they do not so directly participate in our daily
existence. This is probably the reason why architecture is considered the
mother of the arts' . When integrated with architecture as a meaningful
whole (Gt samt kunstwrrk), the pictorial arts, and even music and drama,
become directly connected with life. Thi s implies that any picture does
[ 26
;0 The ru t ' mall hous<,., over t he
graves of the women and columns over those
of the men.
71 Vu lt/fl . . . p. 9'"' .
7l Th e church " f I.e Cur .. ier in Ronclu mr
npre", thi, tendency. Lc Curbusier, how-
eYer, wives the task on a purely p>yehological
basi.. wanting to the right atnt.n
sphere ' for pr:l}' er. He docs not symbolize
the cultural (religious) object. r<'prc", nted by
the church.
not fit everywhere. The detached easel-painting which is hung on the
wall usually lacks a meaningful connection with its environment and
rather signifies a dubious escape into illusion. "!
As a conclusion we have to request that at least some building tasks
incorporate the dimension of cultural symbolization. The cultural in-
termediary objects which primarily have to be concretized may be called
'cultural themes'. Only in this way can architecture defend its status
as one of the arts. When architects and clients, or architects among
themselves) disagree, it is rarely because of practical problems. Instead
they quarrel over diffusely experienced symbolical values, usually masked
as 'aesthetic problems' . 74 We also notice that functionally inferior solutions
are often chosen to escape new and dangerous' symbolical forms, which
might menace the safe habits of man. 7'5 We therefore need a better
understanding of the cultural symbolization and its role within the build-
ing task. It is not enough to render an account of the ' meanings' of the
forms; we also have to understand why certain meanings are preferred
at certain times. Architecture has to serve the desired meanings, but it
also reacts to these. In concretizing the meanings it furnishes a point of
departur e for further cultural development.
T HE BUILDISG TASK AS A WHOLE
The preceding sections have suggested that most buildi ng tasks comprise
all the four dimensions We have introduced. The physical control is
interconnected with particular functions, and the functions on their hand
are determined by social conditions which presuppose the existence of
cultural objects. The four dimensions not only allow us to render an
account of the functions, interactions and values which make up the
building task, but they also make a comparison and classification of the
building tasks possible. Architectural history thus shows us that the build-
ing tasks have usually fallen into two characteristic classes: tasks of a
mainly practical character, and tasks where the higher objects play a
more decisive role. 76
The differentiation of the building tasks becomes always more necessary
as the complexity of the civilization increases. Whi le a relatively restricted
73 SCi: II. Sedlmeyr : Vull"t . .. , p.
The psychology of peruption shows that
form, are never experienced as purc Icrms,
hut symbolizing.
i5 The city_planning in 0.10 after the sec-
ond world WH is a characteristic example.
;6 Wc hnc ....scrrcd, bowever , thaI the
praclieal and symbolical aspects of modern
arehitect ure are mixed to form diffuse
whole.
number of well-defined tasks were sufficient in the past, we experience
today a growing multitude of tasks, which so far have brought forth a
chaotic situation. But also today we may with justification talk about
forms of life, that is, about an order which can be represented in terms
of architecture. Society has become so complicated that an expression of
its structure is imperative. Still we may distinguish between tasks where
the practical and symbolical aspects dominate respectively. The archi-
tectural realization, however, requires a better understanding of the single
tasks and of their interrelations. It is of decisive importance to realize
that the tasks make up a hierarchy or ' universe', where the individual
task forms a part of a more comprehensive task. The building tasks, thus,
arc brought together on the higher planning level called urbanism. The
comprehensive task requires that the subordinate tasks should be defined
in particular ways. Jf they are not, we will not arrive at a meaningful
.... taliry, such as that represented by the cities of the past. " The totality
consists of different but interrelated tasks. Any level of planning, therefore,
may be described as consisting of elements and relations which form
pragmatic structures.
In the past certain building tasks were because they aimed
at expressing the common cultural objects on which the form of life
in question was founded. The church and the palace (castle) played this
role through centuries. In the nineteenth century new leading tasks
appeared. Interest was directed in turn towards the landscape-garden. the
monument, the museum, the theatre, the exhibition, and the factory. 78
Every leading task expressed a different cultural orientation, orientations
which, however, had a short life, until it ended with the functionalistic
of all tasks on a purely practical basis. But still architecture
serves the most different human activities, including problems of milieu
and symbolization. Today we have reason to maintain that some tasks
demand a more pronounced architectural articulation than others, and
that the solution should be more or less ' neutral ' J according to the task.
It is not possible to satisfy all tasks by a rearrangement of the same
cliches, be they classical or ' modern '. As a rule our time is very sceptical
towards formal cliches in general, and many architects have found inspira- 98
rion in ' primitive' or 'anonymous' architecture; " This interest has two
77 The inlcrc,t> "r the layman arc
,,[tcn in conflict with t hi, common The
ruling taste implie, a narrow .imp lilication
of the problem. and t herefore hinders the
of a common order .
Scdlmayr : Verlu,t . .. , pp. ' 5 If . ' Fiihr-
codc Bauauf gabcn .
79 Morocco has attracted many. but >0 have
the farms and fishing villagn of Southcrn
Europe.
reasons. First ly one admires pnmltlve architectur e because we ourselves
have lost the ability spont aneously to find the adequate expression for
a building task. Secondl y we want to be democratic and maintain that
the simplest hut is just as importa nt as the cathedral. If we assert that
architectur e has to participate in a symbol-milieu, however, we have to
reject the one-sided worship of primitive architecture. Wi thout negating
its positive qualities, we have to recognize: that it stems from social
conditions completely different from our own.
What has been said above implies that society puts forward tasks
which are not only added to each other, but which form structures where
some tasks' dominate ' the others. The architect has to adjust himself to
this state of affairs by employing more or less neutral forms, and by
introducing themes' which represent particular tasks. Also in our time
the tasks which directly serve the community have to be leading. We do
not primarily think of the places of work but of the buildings which
serve the social life. This demand is not arbitrary, bur follows from
contemporary sociological insight. Today social life lacks coherence
and meaning. " We should therefore remember that architecture not
only forms a frame around existing activities, but that the frame may
create new activities, that architecture reacts on society and may help in
creating a richer fellowship. One migh t question the criter ia we have
for defining the needs of the society. We have, of course, to consult
sociology to understand the shortcomings and to be able to define the
measures which may produce an improvement. Morris, for instance,
shows that the inhabitant s of large cities are more than those
living in villages and small towns. If we want to fight passivity, we
should therefore have to give the large cities a different structure, and
we should make use of experiences from the smaller urbanistic units for
this purpose. The recognition that certain urbanistic characteristics have
an activating effect has led to the idea of splitting the large city into
, neighbourhoods".
In our time the verbal aspect of human communication has come to
dominate in such a way that we tend to forget that we have other means
at our disposal. The solution of any complex problem is attempted through
conferences and discussions, while the physical planning which should
M Giedion: ,,,,d
Sl Morris: of Human p. 83.
1 --:
react on the psychological and sociological situation, is unsatisfactory and
fragmentary. The neglecting of the non-verbal dimension has made us
so blunt that we accept any work of architecture if it functions in a
tolerable way. even when a more careful analysis would show that it
only satisfies the most banal needs. This vulgar-functionalism' even
enters when architectural competitions have to be decided. The situation
is very unfortunate as architecture increasingly dominates our physical
environment and influences us more constantly than any verbal symbol-
system. Language belongs to the means of communication we may switch
on and off at need, while architecture forms a part of the permanent
milieu in which our activities take place. U Feeling this fundamental
social and cultural importance of architecture without being able to realize
meaningful solutions, one has today seen the reduction of architecture
to a lower status as the only way out.
Only by means of a full understanding of the tasks may we find the
means relevant to their solution. It is more important for the result to
put correct questions than to give correct answers to wrong questions.
13
8:: Ruesch &. K ~ , : op. cit. , p. !J6.
have to talk about -space-boundary' ' mass-boundary '
and in general ' bounding surfaces' The
word 'mass' denotes any tri-dimensional body, while the word ' space'
denotes a volume defined by the bounding surfaces of the surrounding
masses. In both cases We have to do with measurable physical entities.
As an architectural ' mass-dement ' we denomi nate a body which is
separated from its environment in such a way that its extension can be
described by means of a Euclidean co-ordinate system. ' The first quali- 38
fication of a mass, hence, is topological concentration. A mountain is a 39
mass in this sense of the word, as well as any block of stone. As a criterion
for the concentrat ion of a mass (its figure-character "), we will take its
ability to join other masses. We have seen that the straight line stems
from the operation' to aim ' . A straight line and a plane surface, therefore,
define directions which point outside their origin. The closed curve,
instead, returns to its starting point. The sphere, hence, has a maximum
of concentration, while the upright cylinder may be extended Gained to
other masses) in one direction, and the lying cylinder in two. A cone
standing on its base comes dose to the sphere in concentration, while
the pyramid because of its plane bounding surfaces, is more easily joined
to other bodies. A mass which is defined in a purely topological way
by accidental curves may in principle be adapted to adjacent bodies by
changi ng the contour. The figure-character (Gestalt quality) is therefore
in general stressed through with the sphere as the most
forbidding and the parallelepiped as the most inviting of the elementary
stereometrical forms. ' The figure-character of a mass-d ement also depends 39
upon the constancy phenomena. A sphere is recognized regardless of
our angle of vision, while more irregular masses lose their character
whcn seen from certain view-points. Symmetry stresses the concent rated, 40
in itself resting and complete form.
For the concentration of mass-clements defined by adjoining surfaces
it is of decisive importance that the corners should be intact. If two
adjoining surfaces are treated in a similar way. the mass-boundary forms 41
a continuity in spite of the corner and stresses the concentration of the
mass. If, on the contrary, [he surfaces are treated differentl y, the con-
tinuity disappears and the concent ration is weakened. The same happens
134
, The pyr3mid nnnplifin 3
m:oufonn.
7 Th<: lJUu-fornu pounsing '" prOOOUlKaJ
tiguu-ch", u cter h",", been ll...dilioMlly IlKd
to repr= nl pUClculu wocld. . The hani-
the " lInder 300 reb lM bodin (On
poIygon"'l pbns, are very common in uerM
architecture. Th e round lowers of mc:dixv",l
c",,116 empll",. ize Ihe imprcgn",ble ch",rxtt!
of the building. Whik '" pyr3miJ31 (Or that -
ched roof Junsn the conttnu",lion of the
m",... the fbi roof pr'=vn the aohpublc
J""f31k1epiped. In our time the R.al roof is
'0 fxilicole the co-<lII"ditl>llioro 01 the
rrYss.-demems_
if the corner is broken through or made unclear. .' A round corner, instead,
stresses the concentra tion. The treatment of the corners, therefore, often
determines our interpretat ion of the mass-form, and tells us if the building
is intended as a massive block or as a juxtaposition of thin bounding
surfaces. Openings in the bounding surfaces play a similar role. If they
have niche-character they stress the massivity: if instead a pane of glass
is Rush with the outer edge of the opening, the surface-character is
maintained. The latter effect is further accentuated when the window
is subdivided by mull ions, bars, or cames. If the corners indicate that
the mass-form is made up of thin adjoining surfaces, while the openings
suggest a massive block, we may characterize the mass-clement as cont ra-
dictory. The size of the openings is also of decisive importance to the
characterization of the mass. If they arc increased beyond certain limits,
the mass \\;11 be transformed into a skeleton.' Relatively small openings
(' holes"), instead, stress the massivity.
Illumi nation, colour, and texture arc other important means to the
definition of the mass-clements. Whi le one texture, such as a polished
and rcficcring surface, can make the mass dissolve, another may stress
its concentration. 10 Through an appropriate usc of colour a mass-clement
may be separated visually from its surroundings. The light finally,
;. models' the shapes. A round column, for instance. gets a unifonnly
increasi ng shadow which stresses its closed form. In Gothic architecture a
small vertical profile appears, a shadow-line ' which creates a sudden leap
between light and shadow and transforms the mass into an abstract line.
The treatment of corners and bounding surfaces is only important
to the mass-clement itself. and to its relations to its immediate surround-
ings. In a larger context. such as a building in the landscape, the main
form alone is decisive, with the treatment of the roof as a prime factor.
Summing up, we may say that the mass..element is characterized by
its topological-geometrical form. I I Rather than considering the numerical
relations one might discover on measuring a mass, we maintain that the
pregnant Gestalt is decisive. Thus we distinguish between a semi-sphere and
a cube etc. II It is essential that the form should be pn:gnant. Psychological
experiment s show that we tend to overlook or stress irregularities. A devi-
ation from the symmetrical or regular form has to be distinct to bc
135
42 . In moder n lhe il
weakened by closed corners. !olio
VJn der Rohe rarely uses tbe same mat erial in
AdjOi ni ng surfKC1. The m<l l.S is instead made
up of indi yichcl pb=s (II" sbbs. Oflen the
. urfxes ale tnn<F,ent.
, Thi. in the Gothic: c<l l lwdrali.
10 For in<uncr the rustic.>Oon of
43 <l nd flv'ocjuc tyP"
.,f howc;- a . crnph....i u the indiri
dua l 1lOOn.
II Few ronn:nirno::e ..." employ the ward s
14 dMign.>tc the purdy I4po1ogial
propntin. and pml."try ' 10 cks igru.tt the
.. EOOidcan <llpccu.
I! The Miilkr-Lyer p:ntcm ncmplilks a
50 Gcsull where the Icb tions
be changed (wi mi n c:crUin limit!) ....ithout
dcwoying the Gesult quality.
48
67
4S
1.1 Wulf: ' Tend end e1 in Jigur3l Variation ',
in Ellis: op. cit.
14 For instance the isolation of English ea-
thcdr31, in 3 elooc .
6
28 IS The Rom3n P3mheon it 3 hemisphere
fe1ling on 3 cylinder of equa l height. A Cum'
pletC sphere thus m3Y be inscribed iD the
spaee.
16 Dur ing the Ren3isunce 3nd 3g3iDin the
nineteenth century, squn e Of rectangular
rooms were centralized by ma.ns of .I
or decoration in the eeaee of t he ceiling,
aed 3 CWnKc mnDillg around [he room. In
this W3)' the rooms were dl UKtCTized u
indi ..iduah.
17 The cumpks shown II Fig. 47 weTC
de..dopctl at the SuIC Am .100 en!1I School
in 0.10 under the dlf"eCtioll of the author
(Sec School Yearbook
It The dncripcion of fbe space-form de-
pmds upoa the interpr'ft.lDcm of the boun
31 d.arics.
formall y active. I) The character of an dement is hence determined by
its degree of concentration, or by its ability to join other dements. The
topological isolation is of course also decisive for its Independence." An
element appears as an independent figure if it stands out against a con-
tinous, undisturbed ground. We have also seen that the treatment of the
bounding surfaces determines the character of the mass-element. (The
bounding surfaces are understood as subordinate dements which are
interrelated and form superior mass-elements.)
A space-element comes into existence when the intervals (intermediate
spaces) acquire figure-character. A space-element may also be defined in
terms of topological closure, and much of what has been said above also
pertains to the space-element. While we characterize a mass as more
or less concentrated. we say that a space is more: or less closed. Evidently,
the interior of a sphere has a maximum of closure. This form, however,
has only few possibilities for finding application in architecture, and we
should rather consider the hemisphere as the architectural space which
has the highest degree of closure. IS A circular space has no directions
and rests in itself'. Centralization therefore stresses the isolated figure-
character of a space. 16 Square and rectangular spaces more: easily join
together. and a space with 'free' topological boundaries may in principle
be adapted to any situation. The closure also depends upon a similar
treatment of the walls, and upon their being joined together in the corners
to form a continuous, embracing boundary. Apertures at the corners there-
fore open the space more than holes placed in (the middle of) the wall,
especially if the former extend from the Roor to the ceiling. 17 Continuous
horizontal openings directly under the ceili ng have an analogous effect.
The corners may be characterized as the 'critical ' zones of the space.
and their treatment is essential to the interpretation. The closure of a
space may also be emphasized or loosened through the use of light , colour,
and texture in relation to the bounding surfaces. The space-element is
therefore, like the mass-element, determined by its topological-geome-
trical form, by the placing of the openings and by the treatment of the
boundaries. If the subordinate bounding elements form a centralized
order, they will accentuate the independence of the space-element .
The mass-element is prima rily determined by the lateral boundaries,
while the upper limitation is often formall y inactive. The space-element,
instead, is defined by walls as well as by ceiling and Roor. These surfaces
play different roles in the formation of the space-element. The floor
necessarily has to be an approximately flat surface, but it may conrain
differences of level and inclinations (stairs, ramps). Furthermore it can
be subdivided and treated ornamentally in such a way that a direction
or centralization is emphasized. Because of its relatively few possibilities
of variation, the Roor generally has the character of a unifiying dement
which helps in defining the space-form, at the same time as it serves as
ground for the mass-elements. " The treatment of the walls and the
ceiling offers a much greater freedom, although the ceiling is often
determined by technical factors. It is important to realize that the walls
ought to be adjusted to more different situations than the ceiling, because
the walls arc placed in varying positions according to the functions they
have to frame. The ceiling, instead, usually has a fixed position and is
perceived as distant' . Hence the ceiling has been the preferred zone for
religious symbolization. A space-dement may also be defined by the 31
ceiling alone (a roof on stilts), or by freestanding walls open to the sky. 81
The bounding surfaces often have a double function in defining simulta-
neously masses and spaces.
We have above introduced the bounding surface: as an element
subordinate to the mass- and space-elements. But the surface can also
play an independent and leading role in the formal organization. The
most evident example is the facade within a continuous row of buildings.
In general we define a as a limited surface without
thickness' but perhaps with relief properties. An Egyptian pylon, for
instance. may be described as a mass-clement formed by several surface-
elements. The latter are bounded by round protruding mouldings at the 50
corners, which prevent the surfaces from forming a continuity. These
mouldings do not appear on the older monuments, and we may conclude
that the original mass-d ement (the megalith) has become gradually more
articulated. In this way the surface is ' liberated ' and gains status as a
semi-independent element . In present-day architecture surface-elements
arc of the greatest importance.
' 37
19 The tennis court excmpliliel a space
which is mainly defined by the noor. The
role of the Root in llehitecture has so h r
har<lly been studied.
The architectural form of Michelangelo is determined by the treatment
of the bounding surfaces, while the space-form is relatively unimportant .
His project for the Capitoline Hilf employs the poor as a leading formal
element; as a convex oval it contrasts with the surrounding buildings,
and a star-shaped ornament gradually converges on the equestrian Marcus
Aurelius in the centre; " In the Cappella Medici and the Biblioteca Lau-
renziana the walls play the leading role, and in the Cappella Sistina the
ceiling. 11
The bounding surfaces are generally made up of subordinate elements.
These may be plastic or perforative. To exemplify the plastic elements
we may take the pilaster, which usually presents itself against a neutral
or secondary ground. Perforating elements are exemplified by windows
and doors. These also in most cases have figure-character against a
ground. n In both cases a /ram( (an emphasized contour) will accentuate
the figure-character, that is. the independence of the element; " Here, too,
a symmetrical or geometrically simple solution ",;11 stress the individuality.
The figure-character is furthermore emphasized through the isolation of
the element, or by a repetition which underlines its properties. 24
The figure-ground relationship suggests that the architectural form
normally consists of primary and suondary elements, or of a whole
hierarchy of such. The hierarchy. however, is not univocal. The bounding
surfaces may, for instance, be of prime importance for the relationship
to the surroundings, while they form a neutral ground for plastic and
perforating elements. The bounding surface often consists of several laJ(rs
of which some or all have figure-character, Thi s is the case in Gothic
architecture. It may also become a relief without a clearl y defined ground.
Or it may be transformed into a skeleton with secondary filling or covering
elements which are distinguished from the primary skeleton. Thi s
treatment of the bounding surface is much used in present-day archi-
tecture. What has been said above regarding light, colour, and texture
also applies to the surface. We will return to the relations between the
subordinate elements of the bounding surfaces in the next section.
Instead of referring to mass-, space-, and surface-elements, it is often
convenient to introduce elements which have the character of total-
Gestalten ' . By this term we mean an element where space-form and
50
50
20 Norberg.s<:hult : Midul tll/gd o... p. .41
21 Borromini took the bounding sur-
Iace ;IS hi s pcine of departure. See Fig. :11.
11 The well-known figure-ground rcblion-
Ihip il di<c: uuctl for in'lance by in
If;t , 'I1I J Vi ,,,,,1 r"uprio" (pp. I II ] ft.).
!3 Modern ar ehitecture U5UJlly J voidl the
emphasi:r.i llg of individual through
fuming. Openings are pul in the l urb ce
withoul relicf. In Renais ncc archilecture,
however , the e1emenl s arc framed.
We compJrc with musie
r ef'<'litiorl of a motive hJI all Iunc-
l ion. EspeciJlly ehuaCienSlic b the repelition
oC the whole upu.ilion of Ihe .on'".;1 move-
mem.
space-boundary, respectively mass-form and mass-boundary, or all three
basic d ements are forming a pregnant whole. The baldachine is such a
total-Gestalt. The baldachine has been the basic element of several formal
systems, and thus is of prime importance in Late-antique, Byzantine,
Romanesque, and Gothic architecture. " In the baldachine de ment we
cannot in the usual way distinguish between walls and ceiling, but have
to refer to a continuous, indivisible whole." We know several total-
Gestalten which are denominated by commonly used terms. Some of
them are building types like the l basilica' , others are single elements
like 'column ' , ' pilaster ' , ' pediment ' etc. Such total-Gestalten may also
be called ' conventional motives' or in short ' motives' , to distinguish
them from the more abstract ' clements' . The introduction of the motive-
concept helps us to denote formal wholes directly. " The final analysis
should have to use both types of concept.
Elements which are topologically defined have a diffuse, amorphous
character, and their 'expression' merely consists in their concentration
or closure. Only through geometrization, only through the accentuation
of particular Gestalt-qualities, do the elements become able to build up
varying structures which may cover different meanings. An element is
therefore in general characterized as being bounded and articulated.
The definition of the concept of ' articulation ' follows from what has
been said above. In more general terms it may consist in expressing what
we have called the 'structural skeleton' of a Gestalt. Secondary elements
arc characterized as being relatively inarticulate or diffuse. A mass-element
may be topologically or geometrically concentr ated with or without
articulated bounding surfaces. The bounding surfaces may be arcticulated
in such a way that they ' characterize' the mass, for instance as a ' block '
or as a ' box '. The treatment of the surfaces determines the degree of
"massiviry". The space-dement is subject to analogous conditions. When
we say that an element is articulated', we imply that the word' element '
is an auxiliary term which denotes a certain complex of subordinate
elements and relations, During the analysis we treat the element as a unit,
its inner organization does not concern us at the outset. Architectural
form depends upon formation of precise elements, and it would be a
misunderstanding to believe that the form becomes richer by making
'39
See H. Scdlmayr : ' Dn en te minebher_
liche Arc:hitdaun ystem' . in pochNf .." d
51
lI't'l'k" I, pp. 88 fl.
16 For Michebngd o used the
baldachine in b ,t works. By means of
certain (such a, the shape< of the
windows) he char.cterizcd the vault. u
' hlown up ' . the baldachine normally ex-
hihits a conuary mo\'cment , a cOflPic/i"l
form r<::iults. The (Onflict mOl;".. which de
teemiees oa rly his w". th us (On-
eretized in one continuous form. (See S or.
berg-Schulz : .\fi rhrlll1flIrlo).
!1 The concepts ;m, Dot qualiu tive, but
can be reduced to the categoric. of space,
mass. and surface.
Coml"' re with thc statement of Rufer
that the essential of musical
form are aod G/irt/r ruflg. (Sec
Dir Kompotitio" mil "wolf TOM", Berlin
1')5 2),
7
the elements diffuse. " We should also notice that the combination of
conflicting elements has to be evaded, if we do not intend an expression
where the conflict becomes meaningful. JO
R ELATI ONS
The term ' relation ' denotes a lawful way of distributing clements. Formal
relations necessaril y are tri-dimensional or 'spatial', as the dements are
mainl y masses and spaces. In certain cases we encounter bi-dimensional
relations, for instance when we analyze the organization of a bounding
surface (fa\ade). Our exposition, therefore, may be based upon Piaget's
investigations of the space-conception. with information from Gestalt
theory as a supplement. Firstly we should take a look at the topological
relations, and afterwards turn to the more or less developed Euclidean
schemata.
The most elementary topological relation is proximity, If a number
of elements are placed close to each other they will form a cluster or
group. The expression close to each other' has to be defined more
precisely. It seems to be important that the distances between the clements
are fairly equal, and that the distances do not exceed substantially the
size of the elements. In a collection of clements at varying distances
from each other, sub-groups will form, separated by the larger intervals.
The proximity relation is not concerned with the form of the elements
or their orientation to each other. In primitive architecture it plays a deci-
sive role, a state of affairs we should expect, as it is the most elementary
ordering principle. jl The proximity relation has kept a certain importance
throughout architectural history, but usually as a part of a more complex
system of relations. Proximi ty not only may determine the groupi ng of
buildings, but also their inner organization, sueh as the distribution of
mass- and space-elements and the treatment of the bounding surfaces.
It also determines the relation between buildings and the surrounding
landscape, as it may assign to a group of houses figure-character against
the landscape-ground.
Related to the proximity relation is the conception of closure, We will
use this term to denote organization by means of a continuous outer
52

53
2'J The fused the deIDC11U ""'},Ollt
them Jill_.
JO This is Ihe (tie in !obnncrin
Nre. (Sec w. ' Zur R.>urrutruln Uf de.
..., in da Italienischen Archilektu.r.
.\ I .u ti .. W.,..k""""g<' f. KOln 1951i).
j l The house dusters of the Stone Age were
b3l1 upon proximity. the ....mc hukh
true for "primuiv e ' .
boundary. When one clement is inside another one, we have a property
of the closure relation. Most of the cities of the past were based upon
this relation. surrounded as they were by closed walls and fortifications. "
Inside the walls the houses were generally ordered according to the
proximity relation. Large areas were often left free between the clusters
of houses, and the surrounding wall was essential to give the city its
coherence. These closed organisms are today destroyed by houses built
outside the walls. One might imagine that this would join the buildings
better to the environment, but the opposite happens because the order in
question is based upon the closure relation which sui generis does not
tolerate any break in the continuous boundary. This does not imply,
however, that interpenetration is impossible as an ordering relation in
architecture. It is, on the contrary, of the greatest interest. An 'inter-
penetration " is created when two d ements overlap. This does not mean
that they lose their independence, only that ambiguous zones are formed,
which at the same time 'belong to' both d ements. All the basic types
of d ements may interpenetrate, 33
We also know wholes which exhibit a certain articulation, but where
it is difficult or impossible to abstract distinct d ements. In this case we
should have to talk about fusion' . By means of interpenetration and
deformation the elements may be brought to melt together in such a
way that a formal separation becomes meaningless, A genetical separation,
however. is usually possible. 3 Instead of taking the d ements as our
point of departure , we could also start with a whole which is subdivided
afterwards. This method of achieving articulation may be called' division",
Both fusion and division are important in present-day architecture, where
primarily the space-elements are melted together, J5 Succession and con-
tinuity are relations with particular characteristics. J6 While proximity
only leads to the formation of amorphous dusters. the relation of succession
creates rows which have a beginning and an end, and perhaps a de-
termined direction, The continuity relation is basic to rows exhibiting
a certain fusion of the elements.
Proximity and succession are addisiuc relations, as distinct from the
dirisire relations exemplified by subdivision and certain types of con-
tinuiry. " Fusion is genetically additive, but cannot be analyzed formally
31 The rebtioruhip bet....een a dOl:d ur ban
t O I ~ i t y and its fUlTOUndings in diKuS5ed in
C. Norb<7g-5(:hulz ; "Landskap 08 menneske-
28 verk ' , in By. og Rcgionpfanlcgging, The
Technical University of Norway 1960.
33 The term inlerpenelral;\>n' was intro-
54 duced by Frankl (Ent ,.,;ct.1'''' K$pham ,). A.
an eumple we may point to me f ~ of
S. Agnor: in Piazu Nuona .u planned by
Borromini. (Sec Hempel ; Borron""i, Wi<; n
192.4, pl. ')0).
3. The BH""lul' emp!\cd numerous types
o{ fusion. Sec Fran kl, op. cit.
n Moot dearly in tbe works of Min van
der Robe. F"-' ion i5 prrscm in the brick house
from 192] and di vision in the Barcelona pa-
vilion from 1929. (Sec P. }ohlUOn : ,\tiu lIa"
d ~ Rohc, pp. p , 66). The nuiODis empha-
sized by means of transparent walll, and
above all by ' diHolving' the corners.
36 Piagel u s.t:1 the term' order ' to delignale
55 a spa.ti..1 succession. We preler to prer.ave the
general meaning of ' order '.
J1 Wf; undentand that the tcrnu ' addition'
and ' di vision ' denote: 5imple topological re-
Iati0 05.
56

as such. Although the interpenet ration in principle is addit ive, we will

give it status as a separate category. to let the term' addition ' denote
relations without ambiguous manifestations. 31
The relation which bridges the gap between the topological and the
geometrical schemata, is similarity. The Gestalt psycologists have pointed.
out that similar elements form groups. This phenomenon is of fundamental
importance to all higher types of structure; we have even seen that the
abstraction of similarities form the basis for the very concept of order .
An order depends upon the possibility of indicating elements as similar
or dissimilar. The similarity may be merely topological, or may consist
in an exact correspondence of all the properties of the d ements. j9 In the
present context it is important to point out that similarity and dissimilarity
can be used to form relations like repetition, contrast, and dominance.
The repeti tion of similarities is essential to 'open forms' where d ement s
may be taken away or added without destroying the composition. oI{l This
relation should not be confounded with the topological succession where
dissimilar elements form a row, A repetit ion is not dependent upon a
strict topological continuity, as the simi larit y of the elements creates
coherence, The terms contrast ' and 'dominance' express that the
d ements are classified according to their simi larities, and that one class
may domi nate the others. Colour, texture, shape, size and orientation
contribute to these relations. Dommance ma y also be due to a particular
treatment which produces a ' strong Gestalt ' , The mediaeval church not
only domi nates the town because of its size, but also because of its form
and perhaps because of its east-west or ientation whi ch often differs from
that of the other build ings. In the landscape a common orientation of
several dements may create a unified figure-character, and the repetition
of directions suggested by the landscape itself may join the buildings to
their surroundings. A mass-d ement is characterized by its orientation:
seen at an oblique angle it maintains its massivity; in a frontal view,
however, it is reduced to a surface.
The geometrical relations are conveniently classified as the orga nie-
ation of elements relati ve to a point, relative to a line, and relative to a
co-ordinate system. These basic relat ions may also be combined. Organiz-
ation relative to a point is usually called 'centralization' . This relation
6
57
100
57
8
58
.Jll Funkl aho giYfi ua -
res as a separate category. U two ..Ianenu
touch ..ad! otha at a common boundary, we
. hould ul k about a ' (OlIua' of dc-
menu , ntha than an
39 In Mcdiaeyal archi lC(tllre it Wa> common
to In the church racmble the Church of [he
Hnly Grave in Jerusalem (lZd fONnIZ'" SIZfl(';
The conception of
similarity, however, was very different from
our own. Accordingly, all ru trlZli: eJ sclu -
no ns were and also buildings haying
me sam.. " umkr of (Sa: R. Kraut-
helmer r Introduction [0 an knn.ognlphy of
Mcdiaeyal .-\rchitecture '. ' OUT" IJ/ 0/ d e "".,r_
hurg l"stilt/te, l<Indon IW).
40 We will return to these: open fOl1llS, but
.hould immediatdy point co their g=>t im
poetance in prcocnt-day architecture, The fim
typical example was the O'yst:ll Palace in
London (18St).
41 These two possibilities arc res-
pectively by classical Greek and by Rl'''I an
architecture.
f
produces different types of rotational symmetries, 42 It has played a very
important role throughout architectural histor y, especially in Renaissance
archi tecture, where the centralized space is a cosmic symbol. Central-
ization determines circular, pentagonal, hexagonal, and octagonal shapes,
and often the square. We also know characteristic examples where oblong 59
dement s arc centralized by means of a particular treatment. 4-' To describe
the differences between t he centralized forms, we have to introduce
other geometrical relations. The first one is axiality. The word' axis'
expresses that we arc referring to an organization relative to a line.
The line does not have to be straight, but it must have a determined
shape, in contrast to topological continuity where the shape is irrelevant .
A line with a determined shape orders the elements in succession and
gives the order a direction. The axis has played a leading role in the
history of architecture. While the Greek lay-oms (Athens, Delphi, Olym- 61
pia) were topologically organized, Hellenism introduced organizing direc-
tions and later even symmetries. In Roman architecture the axis gained 62
primary importance. It may, however, be used in very different ways.
In Mannerist architecture it is splitting and leads to nowhere, while
the Baroque employs the axis to achieve a unifying and submissive
effect. 44 Today symmetry is rarel y emphasized, and although it may often
be of practical importance, we do not intend movements along an axis. 45
Instead we introduce organizing directions by means of so-called' guiding ' 60
elements. These usually have an ambiguous character in belonging simul-
taneously to two or more superior elements. A ' guiding wall ' , for instance, 65
may unify two space-elements by means of its continuity. 46 The contact
between building and landscape may also be emphasized through guiding
elements such as walls extending into the surround ings. In general, lines
as well as surfaces may be guiding. 47
When a direction is repeated it means that a relation of parallelism
is introduced. Parallel lines imply the repetition of equal angles. Parallelism
often appears independentl y of symmetry, for instance in Hittite and 63
Cretan architecture. 48 Today parall elism has gained particular importance
in connection with the ' free plan' , because reflections in glassy surfaces
repeat the parallelism when all angles are straight. If reflections are used
as a means to achieve a guiding, fusing effect, it is important to avoid
'43
u For rbe of symmetry II .
Wcyl: SymmNry. Princeton K. J..
Wolf and D. Kuhn: Gr,/"l/ und SymmClr;r.
Tiibiogen 1952. Many of the rdations we
describe could be defined as ' ymmetries. We
do not find it convenient , however, to employ
,uch a , pecialized terminology. We shall only
talk abo ut cenlral (rotational) "nd axial (hi.
lateral) , ymm"lri" .
43 Church .bui lding, can often be under.
stood as a synthesis of centralized and lcngi-
Illdinal ' pace,. E"entially pronounced in Bru
nelIe>c hi', S. Spir ito in Florence where the
same bounding system is carr ied around the
whole ' pace to emphasize the domed ce[ltre.
(Sec: Norberg-Schlllz : 'Le ult ime... ') .
44 See H. Hoffmann: Hodmma;wmu, Ma-
n;er;,mu<, Fruhharock , Zurich 1938.
45 Mies van der Rohe often employs sym-
metry, hut t he axes do nO! prescribe t he mOVC-
mm ts of the beholdet. They arc only ern-
phasiaed lines belonging to the organlz' ng
co-ordinate system.
46 The term Was iotnxloced by the author
in a joint artide with A. Korsmo (' Mie, vao
der Rohe ' , Byggeku/1'/ No. 5, 1952), where
Mies" project for a house with thr ee courts
from r9'7 was compared with a 'simil ar '
neuse without guiding walls. Obviously t he
guiding walls are e.\Se ntial to obtain the in-
tended fusioo of the spaccs.
47 Several examples of guiding dements are
given in C. Ncrberg-Scbulz : ' Om rommet i
arkite ktu ren ", Hygg(kU/1st, ' 952.
48 For i nstance in the temples in Boghaz -
keuy and the palace of Kllos,os. Tend encies
toward s axial organizat ion arc present, e.lpe-
dall y in connect ion with the entrance. (Sec
Boghazkeu}', Templ e 1, in Wacht, mulh : Da
Raum I, Marburg 1929. p. 7r).
oblique angles. " But the repetItion of oblique angles may also have an '1-4
ordcring effect, as shown in certain present-day experiments. so The oblique 66
angles arc more flexible relative to irregular building-sites, but it must
be emphasized that the usc of accidental or varying angles leads back
to purely topological relations. A gromrtri ca! order is onl y possible through
the: repetition of angles which form a system, such as IS, 300, 45", 60''',
and tjl'f. Determined angles may also imply an accentuation of the hori-
zontal-t-crticai directions, an elementary schema, which is in harmony
with most functions and natural condi tions. If we let the directions
conn:rge towards a point, we create perspcctirr relations. Perspective is
mostly employed where optical illusions are intended, such as making
a room look longer or shorter than its real ' length. 51 Through a
systematic usc of parallel lines we arr ive at the most comprehensive
system of relations, the co-ordinate systrm. A developed co-ordinate system,
repeats determined directions and dimensions throughout. The co-ordi nate
system. however, is not always all-comprehending. We know. for instance.
examples where the ma1S-structure is determined through the repetition
of the same basic dimension (module), while the spaces arc accidental
intervals 51 The opposite may also happen, especially when a building
is planned by means of a grid ' . The lines of the grid do not take the
thickness of the mass-elements into consideration. and irregularities arc
created. In general a co-ordinate system implies regulating lines in several
directions. Architectural space, however, has never been full y Euclidean,
that is, isotropic. There is always a difference between the extension on
the ground-plane and the extension upwards, owing to the fact that man
stands on the ground. We should therefore regard recent attempts at
basing the architectural form upon tri-dimensional gri ds with a certain
skepticism.
A formed by means of a comprehensive co-ordinate system has 70
a weaker figure-character than an enclosed ' special ' space-element . Rather
it is a neutral continuum exhibiting a certain want of expression. It has,
however, two potential possibilities. Firstly it may serve as a ground for
mass-element s, and secondly it furnishes the 'raw mat erial' for space
elements created by emphasizing, leaving out, or connecting points in
the co-ordinate system. Such modifications of the system may consist of
Ccrnpr re the Barcelona pavilion by Mie!
der Rohe.
50 & pedally in the work of Frank Llo\u
Wr ight. {See H. R. Hitehmck: In Nat" re
0/ .' (au , ja!, . Ne w York "I-P' illul. 347'51).
Sl examp le. arc Bernini' , Scala Re
in the l nd hi. Piazz a Rella in
front of St. Peters.
5Z We must repeat that equal size. only
a fannal importallCc if they are rorre
1.11 with . imilar vi.ual Gestalten.
a combination of two or more types of geometrical relations through
the introduction of organizing cent res or axes. The latent 'structura l
skcicton ' is thus made visible, and the form becomes pregnant. An clement
placed in the cent re of one of the sections of the co-ordinate system has
this effect, while an irregular position produces a certain 'tension'. S3
A real 'confl ict ' (which may be intended) is created through the intro-
duction of accidentally placed centres and axes. A complex system of
geometrical relations may also consist of a combination of symmetries
and asymmetries. The possibilities mentioned play an important role in
the Visual arts and architecture.
The combination of topological and geometrical relations offer still
more interesting possibilities. Most architectur al structures can in fact
be analyzed as such. A topologically closed whole, for instance, may be sa
articulated by means of parallel lines, or through an empha sized axis. S5 64-
A centralized order may be characterized as 'centrifugal ' or centripetal , 67
according to the topological interrelations of the centralized elements. S(; 68
The possibilities are innumerable, and we can only refer to one more 69
example. Two or more types of relations may thus be combined in
such a way that we arr ive at a double order' . In recent architecture
this is frequently done by combining a ;. free plan' determined by parallel
lines or topological relations, with a technically founded co-ordinate 70
system. "
Besides the topological and geometrical relations, we may also talk
about ' conventional relations'. These consist in prescribed ways of combin-
ing conventional motives. The classical orders, for instance, arc based
upon conventional relations. Any conventional relation, however, may be
reduced to its topological and geometrical properties, and we understand
that the concept is only introduced as an expedient to simplify the
description. The conventional relations arc connected with the problem
of style, which will be treated later.
Finally it is important to notice that a relation may be more or less
com prchensive. In primitive architecture the relations only concern a
limited cluster of clements, while the great epochs of architectural history
exhibit a desire to create always more extensive organisms. This may
be done either by applying uniformly one type of relation, or by inrro-
145
51 Arnheim: Arl .. . . p. 3.
5i Temple I, ooghnkeuy.
55 I-bbu in Theocs. (S<.-<: 1)\'0 Hol_
mn
Hub" im WrllljeArn Thrben . Tubigen ' 95SJ,
'If, The Pamheon has an emphasized boun.
dary and could he characterized as a 'ce ntri_
petal ' 'race. while Rramante' , project for
St. Petn' , i. a centrifugal ' wmpo.ition. In
Michelangelo's plan for St. Peter ' s the two
po ibi]itie. are unified in a ccntlict-struc-
tur e .
5; The method wa, developed by Mies van
der Rohe. and for the first time d early ex-
prCCd in his house for the Berlin c>t hibition
in ' 931.
51 We could imagine an ordrr lused upon
formal elements which arc :moc;alw with the
urne sentiment. Such a general
i, typical of romanti c mu. ic, The ...-dcr 0b-
rained , however . is amorp hous aod of limited
interest .
J _
ducing two or more types corresponding to a hierarchy of elements.
In classical Greek architecture the organizing relations are tied to 61
the single building, while Hellenistic-Roman architecture knows more 62
extensive compositions like fora, baths, and palaces. Only duri ng the
Renaissance. however, did an undisturbed isotropic order become the 71
ideal. The latter order has found renewed interest in our time, because
the functions are no longer isolated.
The relations between the elements arc usually more important than
the clements themselves. This is perhaps not surprising, as the clement
is determined by its inner relations. In other words, the whole becomes
more important than the parts, as soon as we can talk about a whole
rather than an accidental 'aggregate' of independent units. A whole,
on the other hand, is itself an clement in a wider context, and we under-
stand that ' element ' and relation ' arc interconnected aspects of the
same object : the formal structure. The architecture of the Renaissance
and the Baroque' illustrates the clement-relation problem especially well,
because the same basic elements arc related in varying ways. It is therefore
necessary to have an experienced eye to perceive the seemingly small
nuances in the architecture of this period. The example becomes still
more interesting because the elements arc mainly borrowed from the
' classical' architecture of Antiquity. On should not forget, however. the
role of the mediaeval tradition. The theme' classical architecture' therefore
offers an ideal introduction to the basic problems of architectural form.
FORMAL STRUCTURE
We have already suggested that a collection of dements ordered by
means of the proximity relation, form a ;. group', while a collection of
clements ordered by the continuity rd ation form a ;. row' . In both cases
we arrive at forms or formal strucrures. Through different combinations
of clements and relations We may create an infinite number of such
structures. The combinations, however. follow determined principles which
are functions of what enters the structure. We can therefore render an
account of the general properties of the formal structure and give some
characteristic examples. 60
14
6
W Frey: COlik " 1/ J Re1/ Jiu J1/u. o.
liO It is possible to eMfY through a
matK exposition of aU combination. of
mems.a nd reb tioru. This task, ho... bIb
outside the scope of the present nud)o.

!
The group formed when a collection of mass-elements is ordered by
means of proximity has a relatively low degree of articulation. According
to everyday language we would call such a form a "cluster", 61 The cluster 53
may be geometrized and become a real group with co-ordinated elements.
In the same way a topologically ordered ' row' may be geometri zed.
Finally we may geometr ize a topological enclosure by means of a point, ,2
a line, or a grid, and arrive at a circle, an ellipse, or a polygon. A cluster
is always an ' opm' form, as the d ements by definition are independent
and may be taken away or added. A group, instead, can be open or
'cloud' . We have already introduced the terms ' centripetal' and "cen- 67
trifugal' to cover this state of affairs. A cluster is not only geometrized 68
by means of centralization, but may also be submitted to a co-ordinate
system. In this case both centripet al and centrifugal formations are
possible. A row may also be open or closed, while an enclosure by defini-
tion is a closed Icrm. " Rows and groups are additive or divisive, that
is, organized from 'below' or from <above ' .
Space-elements show analogous possibilities for the formation of rows
and groups, and the same holds true for surface-elements.
Clusters of mass-elements are normal in primitive architecture, while
space-elements onl y appear in isolation artificial caves'). The megalithic
temples on Malta, however, contain rows. of compound space-elements. " 73
In Mesopotamian architecture we may talk about dusters of parallel
space-elements, while the mass-form is diffusely enclosing and shows a
surface treatment which has no correspondence with the addition of H
spatial units. " The mass-structure and the space-structure thus do not
have to correspond. Even today we often enclose complex groups of
space-elements within an encompassing mass. Sometimes the mass is
articulated, without the spaces participating, on other occasions the opposite
happens, or the two basic elements are combined in varying ways. In
Egyptian architecture we find clearly defined rows of space-elements
which are bounded by groups of masses. We realize that a geomet rical 64
grouping of masses (surfaces) necessarily produces a geometrical space.
A topological grouping of mass-dements produces instead a topological
space. As the topological grouping has 'no shape' (except for the prox-
imity etc. of its elements), the topological space becomes an accidental
' 47
61 rt would ohviously be practical to POSICOS
a differentiated common terminol ogy which
covers all import ant architectur al forms. We
will not. however, introduce too many COI'l-
cepe ill the prc...m <Iud}'. as a terminology
has to grow naturally. We arc onry aiming
at t he more basic distinctions.
6.2 It may, however, embrace open forms.
6J See for ilLStana Temple II &om Tarcien.
(Ccschi : op. cit. , p. II).
64 See the plan of the white templ e' in
Warka. (H. Frankfort : T"e An (lnd Art"'.
tert ure at tl.e Annent Orient . Harmcnds-
worth t954. p. 'j) .
-
interval. 6' A forma l intenti on comprising interrelated space-clements there- 61
fore presupposes a certain gcometrization. A complete geometrization,
however, is not necessary, as a defined direction may be enough.
Groups, rows, and enclosures may not onl y be varied ad infinitum by
means of simple or combined relations, but also through variation of the
elements. " The elements within a group. for instance, may be similar
or dissimi lar and create relations of repetition, contrast, or dominance.
In early Renaissance architecture rows of fairly uniform d ements were
formed. Raphael introduced a row-formation (spatial succession) based upon
cont rasting elements, and thus paved the way for the formal structures 75
of the Baroque. 67 Rows and groups arc normally formed on the horizontal
plane, while the vertical dimension is a direct function of the properties
of the single elements.
In principle any formal structure can be analyzed in terms of elements
and relations, and our suggestions indicate an infinite number of possibili-
ties, from the amorphous topological cluster to the completely articulated
rhythmical group. /ill 76
It is important to notice that particular relations demand elements
with suitable properties. When the relations are purely topological, the
propert ies of the elements are in principle irrelevant , though we may
recognize the fact that geometrical elements ' express a desire' to hi:
ordered geometrically. A structure where geometrical elements arc related
topologically therefore looks unsatisfactory or even chaotic. Thi s per-
ception can be understood as an intermediary object where the ' higher '
order of the elements makes the general topological relations ineffective. 6\1
The only topologically determined totality which is able to comprise
strong geometrical Gestalten is the enclosure. Within a clearly defined
frame anything is possible. " Topological relations therefore request
elements which are either diffuse or markedly concentrated. Geometrically
concentrated elements, of course, fit in with geometrical relations, while
these shun diffuse elements. Geometrical relations may not as a matter
of principle demand geometrical elements, but as the relations arc not
casily perceptible if they are not expressed on the elements themselves
the use of diffuse dements would make ' invisible' geometrical relations 16
(such as equal distances to an axis) illusory. 71 The more complex the
14
8
65 For in cbssieal Greek aechieec-
ewe,
6/i When architectural form we
.hou!d put both que srionv: Which formal
be creat ed with on( dement
and changing rebtions?, and, Which formal
suuetura a n be cruted with one reI41;o"
and changing
67 Villa Madama, planned in 1517 (! ), Stt
M. II Ji Villa MaJIlTIJ Il,
Roma 1942 .
6lI CorneU (op. cit.) want s to derive all
stru.. -rures from the dichotomy exterior-inler-
ior , Th e drama ' of aecbieecture con,illS in
going f rom the out,jde in. OU f expoueion
shows that this t heory mean. an amputation
of the architectural form.
69 Toda y many housing devdopmen13 look
chaotic in spite of certain co-
herence, becau'C the single clements arc gco.
metrical.
70 Formal therefore, should be
done within clearly defined boundaries. Com-
pare t he Roman experiment. with .pa.tial
successions, and also the ' free' plans of moo-
ern architecture.
71 Brunelleschi showed hi. order
0 " the surfaces in making the primary
parts of dark "pierra " rena ' on a ground of
while plaster.
relations are, the more complicated the elements become. If a combination
of complex relations and simple elements is desired, we should have to
split the relation-complex into components and distribute the elements 70
accordingly. n
From what has been said above it follows that a particular type of
formal structure only admits elements with certain properties. The Doric
system, for instance, admits neither the pointed arch nor the dome (they
arc <foreign ' to the system). The dome, however, forms a part of a
superior ' classical ' system which also comprises the Doric as a sub-system.
The Romans tried to unify the relatively isolated Greek systems into such
a comprehensive classical system.
7J
One of the reasons for the unsatisfac-
tory character of much of the Nordic neo-classical architecture surely is
the introduction of steep (' Gothic') roofs. The confusion of styles in the
nineteenth century exemplifies an architecture where the elements are
used without the necessary correspondence to the employed relations, or
to the formal system which happened to dominate the single work. 74 77
An interesting case of the employment of elements foreign to the system 78
is the spolium-architecture of late Antiquity. Elements from older build-
ings were used anew in an essentially different architecture. It happened,
for instance, that old bases were used over again as capitals, or vice versa.
We may infer that the elements were not employed because of their formal
properties, but possibly as carriers of particular meanings. And we may
also conclude that the relevant formal structure does not comprise the
spolii.1'5
It is not enough to say that the d ement has to belong to the system.
It also has to be assigned a particular role within the system, that is, a
particular element may only appear in prescribed places. We are not
allowed to arrange the dements of the system freely, but have to obey
certain ' rules' . While present-day architecture has tried to free itself
from such restrictions, the systems of the past assigned clearly defined
roles to each motive. The reason is, of course, that the motives were
meaningful parts of a coherent symbol-system. 76
A formal structure generally consists of primary and secondary
clements, or exhibits a still more complicated hierarchy. The primary
clements are by definition basic to the structure; if they are taken away
149
n Th is is the ea", when a free plan is orga
nized by a ' dear eon.truetion . The bound-
ing Jurfaet1 obey "min (rdativdy . imple)
relations. and the ccnst rucrion different ones.
Toget her they form a fertile .y.tern. unifying
freedom and order .
73 How this happtnM will be shown in a
later srudy on 'Ciassi<:2llLl"chi!ettuu '.
As particularly grot esq"" examples can
be ment ioned the castle in Schwenn and the
:-;'al ional Museum in Munich. (See K. O. Han
mann: Dit E"t wicklu" K '" III,
Berlin 1931. pp. 315, JYJ).
7S L'Orangc . Fr" Pri" n pat til Domi"""
pp. 3 1 ff .
76 The column. the pediment . and the dome
are well-known motives.
t he composition disintegrates. 77 In analyzing a formal structure it is there-
fore essent ial to indicate the elements which may be taken away without
producing thi s effect. An elemen t dominating because of its size is usually
primary, and when the struct ure is based upon a co-ordinate system, the
primary clements have the task of defining t he point s and di rections of
the grid. If t he structure is axially determined, the primary clements
emphasize the dire ction and the possible goal of the axis.
78
Because of
their decisive impor tance, the pri mary elements may only slightly deviate
from the ' theoreticall y correct ' solution. The secondary ones, inst ead,
may be treated wit h a relatively high degree of freedom, though care
must be taken that they do not interfere with the primary elements. This
freedom, however , does not impl y t hat the secondary elements are artis-
tically more importa nt than the primary ones. They only participate in
t he structure via the primary element s. i'9
The distinction between prima ry and secondary elements should not
be confounded with the relation of the main shape to detail s. The main
shape is often secondary and is assigned its cha racter by primary detai ls
(subdivisions, corners, openings etc.). The same stereometric fonn can
t hus be characterized as an addition , a di vision, or an interpenetr ation
accordin g to the treatment of the details. In general we should again
stress t he importance of the bounding surfaces.
1IO
Ornament and decoration
are usually employed to characterize the dement s as primary or secondary,
but may also be used to produce an intended ambiguous effect.
Just as important as the distinction between primary and secondary
elements, is the realization t hat the formal str ucture comprises several
, lerels", In a compl ex structure the organizi ng process will take place
in several phases. Cer tain subordi nate element s, for instance. will build
up a bound ing surface, which on a higher level (and by means of
different types of relat ions) acts as an d ement to form a mass- andfor
space-structure. These, for their part , may again participat e as elements
in a larger whole (such as a 'spatial composition "), whi ch again becomes
an element on a stiil higher level. B1 An amorphous cluster of inarti culate
mass-element s has only one level, while a differentiated urbanistic organism
has many. The distinction between different formal levels takes into
15
0
,i We an imagine a ,Uttt formed by build-
ing, br:lonl{ing to me same style, where onc
building JX"sasa a high degree of articula-
tion while the other, are more ' anon}'mous .
The articulated member of the ' family' make,
the others appear 3 ' simpler variations " n
the same basic theme,. 1 it is taken away,
62 thi s living ,l rUClure disappears, and monotony
reigns.
In Mannerist architecture a movement
into ' emptine," ' wa, achieved hy empha, izing
the Ranks rather than the axis iuelf. (Sec
lI offmann : 01'_ cit.).
i9 A. Ehr enzweig turns the matter upside-
down when he want s 10 make the ' inarticu-
late deraib' the carriers of the artistic ex-
prc$.l lon.
.0 Scdlmayr has >hown how Borromini' ,
str ucture is a- funct ion of me boundi ng sur-
. .too he talk. a-bour ' d ie: trim le. stereo-
merri..:he Strubur der na.cklen Form' . (Bor-
romi"i. p.
AI In aneienl NOTWegian ....ooden archiece-
ture me prima-ry skeleton i. oruamerued. The
lapanese, however. decorate the nll ins: mem-
bers. In :m;hilCl;lure decorat ion WaS
used In make the formal hierarchy ambigcous.
&! Comp:nc mot;"" _l11 eme Jutio" _ mo""-
44 me'll _C}'rlus in music.
52
53

consideration the fact that the same formal structure part icipates in several
situations, and that its aspects change according to these. Different
relations may govern the different levels (that the d ements vary is in-
cluded in the definit ion of the concept of ' level '). A bounding surface
may thus be organized geometrically without having to participate in
the formation of a geometrical space. " Or the mass-elements may have
a general geometrical character and form geometrical groups, while
their bounding surfaces are articulated topologically. Different geometrical
relations may also appear on different levels. This happens when a surface
is articulated by means of a geomet rical ornament which has nothing to
do with the main structure. A single level can also get a double structure
by means of the use of combined relations. If the relations governi ng
the different levels are interrelated, we will talk about a continuous
structure. The simplest example is furnished by a structure where the same
type of relation is used on all levels, for instance the general employment
of a module or a co-ordinate system. The structure of the lower levels
will in this case have the character of a 'condensation ' of the higher ones.
A continuous structure should not be confounded with a diffuse totality
where it is difficult or impossible to distingui sh between different levels.
The levels may form a hierarchy, in other words : the primar y elements
may appear within one particular level. This is often due to the fact that
one of the situations where the building is participating is so important
that it comes to dominate the structure. A structure, thus, may be deter-
mined from ' above' , from' below' , or on an intermediate level, or the
levels may have equal importance. A clear formal description should treat
the levels separately. One could, for instance, start with the main shape
and proceed gradually to the smallest details, or vice versa, or in other
cases it may be convenient to start on an intermediate level. Generally the
analysis is facilitated if the primary level is taken as the point of departure.
The distinction of levels expresses the articulation of the structure.
Arti culation (differentiation) docs not only imply the use of pregnant
elements and consequent relations, but also the definition of primary and
secondary parts and the establishment of interrelated formal levels. Most
forms are redundant. The primary elements are repeated or emphasized
in such a way that the danger of misinterpretation is reduced. 85
'5'
31 The c1as,i cal Greek lay-out, (At hcno.
Olympia. Delphi) exemplify ' tructures where
tbe sinKle rna..-d emcnt. arc geomet rical ,
while the next formal Ind, that i, . the
relat ion the mass-elements, is topo.
logical (proximity and endmure). Hadrian' .
61 in Tivoli exbibit. geometri cal rd at ions
nn level. . an<! corre' ponding forma.
tion. of extensive spatial gmups. The relatinn
loCI ween Ih."" group' . however. i, ha,.,.l upon
proximity.
An euly example of J continuous
sttuet ure i. the ' pati.::l goomeU"y ' of Bru-
nellescbi. A similar inlent ion i. clearly n_
prrsK'd in the paintin g in Urbina by Fran_
cesec di Giorgio.
5S Th e tcrtn i. borrowed
from information (See Cherry : op.
16 ea., p. 305).
71
100
We have already mentioned that a formal structure depends upon
the 'sc ale ' . 56 Very large wholes request a formal organization different
from that of smaller units. A complex urbanistic organism, for instance,
can hardly be geometrized as a totality, but has to be based upon
topological relations between elements which possess a varying degree of
geometrization. Thi s means that the formal levels show varying needs
for organization.
In our time the demand for 'flexible' structures has come to the
fore. Thi s means two things. Firstly that elements can be added or taken
away, so that the building would ' grow' or 'shrink ' without losing its
coherence. This problem is solved by means of open rows or groups,
and therefore does not contain anything radically new. It stands in con-
trast, however, to the demand for closed forms of the classical tradition. 51!
Secondly ' flexibility' may imply that the elements themselves and their
interrelations should be changeable. We may for instance wish to change
the spatial subdivision or the degree of closure of the space-elements by
means of movable partitions (sliding walls, folding walls, curtains,
blinds etc.), Thi s kind of flexibility will in most cases consist in a limited
number of possibilities for variation, but it can also be total when freely
movable bounding elements are employed. In the first case we can ensure
that all the possible variations produce defined and satisfactory forms,
while such only appear by accident when the flexibility is total. Total
flexibility therefore needs to be combined with a strong means of organ-
ization (such as a visible co-ordinate system), or it will end in chaos.
The same holds true for the 'free plan ' which can be understood as a
collection of totally flexible elements fixed in a formally accidental
juxtaposition. SO) A free plan may also gain formal coherence by means
of an embracing regular volume. 90 To make a plan ' free', certain types
of elements and relations have to be avoided. Mass-elements, for instance,
should be small and surrounded by a continuous ground. The idea of
a free plan thus docs not imply that we are allowed to do anything. All
types of formal structures necessarily have their inner 'laws' and there
are set rules for their employment. 91 The' grammar ' of a structure is
based upon the clements and relations it admits. The typical clements of
the system have to be emphasized and the foreign ones repressed. An
15
2
7.
80
70
81
82
116 From the point of vicw of form alone ,
the scale is irrelevant. The problem has I
lo(:rn=rieal char acter,
117 In his peojece f()f' 51. Peler ', Antl)flio da
S:ong;lllo iI Giov;lnc used. motift'S derived
from Bum;lnte' s Te mpietto in S. Pietro in
Montorio. The mo tives, howe""r. b il form-
;Illy in t he neW context :as Sangallo did not
introduce: the neecullt"y tr ansitory levels be.
tween the small borrowed clement s and the
large form.
M Expr essed in Alberti's , l;ltement lhal
n<Khi ng should be added clc.
Th e nc.:d for a double 'tructure 10 secure
the Ofg;lniu t ion of Ihe free pbn W;lS pointed
OUI by I.e Cor busicr in hi.. project Domj"o
from ' 9'4, (Sec I.e Corbusicr: Com-
I).. Min san dcr Robe "'p: ' The free
plan ;100 ;I clear consUuctioo caoOOl be kepi
A d en ' 1t\Il;luce is the basi. fOl" the
free pbn.. , The SUUct\Ue is th e backbone of
th e whole and makes the free plan possible.
Withoot th;ll backbone the plan would not
he free. but chaotic and therefore consti-
pated. ' (Sec C, Norberg-Schulz : Talks wilh
Mies van der Rohe ' , L'Archirccrurc d' au;our.
d' hlt;. No. 79, p, 100).
90 This solutio n is oflen employed by Mie.
van dcr Rohe.
91 expresses Ihis f.lcr :IS follows : The
free pbn is a new and has iu own
gr:unm;lr, like a new bngtl;lge. believe
t hat the free plan means absolute lib.rty. This
is ;I misuadet Slanding. The frcc plan ash foe
jll' l as mu cb discipline ;100 undcrsu nding
from the ;lrchitcct :as a con"entional plan.
The free plan for insta nce demands tha I
dosed clements, which still arc ncce..u y, arc
set back from the outer w;llk . Onl}' in this
w;ly ooe ;lchievC$ a Iree sp:";".' (Norberg.
Schulz : op, cit.).
element is emphasized through isolation and by framing. When framing
an opening (a window, a door), or a space-element (by means of a
continuous treatment of the bounding surfaces), the independence of the
clement s is defined. Such a treatment of space-d ements is not admitted by
the free plan which aims at a fusion of the spaces. Hence we notice that mo-
der n architecture shuns the framed hole. The spatial continuity is emphas-
ized through the employment of individual concent rated masses, whereas
the continuity of the masses is stressed when closed spaces or accidental
intervals are used. This state of affairs is basic to the formal grammar,
and could be called the complementary-principle' of architectural form.
Flexible forms were used also in the past, but usually as a theme with
rariations; " We know structures determined by a characteristic element
which is varied. The concept of 'variation' presupposes that certain basic
properties remain constant . In other words, the variations must take place
within the limits of form-constancy. The word ' rhythm ' is often used
in connection with the repetition of similar elements. The simplest case
is a uniform succession, but the concept of rhythm is generally introduced
when the repetition is combined with certain lawful changes in the
relations between the e1ements.
9
) In general the word 'rhythm ' denotes
the relational property of succession, while ' variations ' denotes element-
properties derived from a common basic source. Themes with variations
may appear on any formal level. We will only mention two important
possibilities. Within the indi vidual building the theme can be a pregnant
mass-clement, space-element, or surface-d ement. In S. Andrea in Mantua,
Alberti based the whole wall-structure upon variations on the rhvthmische
Traoce. This surface-element consists of three sections where the middle
one is wider than the flanks. 9-I As a border-line case the sections may
be equal. In S. Andrea the narthex is based upon the relation 1:3: I , the
nave upon I : 2 : I , the transept upon I : I Y; :I , and the choir upon I : I: I. 95
With in an urbanistic organism the themes will usually be building types.
(' Building type' is an expedient comprehensive term analogous to
'motive ' ). By means of variations on a limited number of building
types, the townscape gains visual order. 96 The variation-structure is in
general based upon the elementary formative principles of repetition and
deviation. In discussing it as a particular structural type, we impl y that
153
50 The H riation form in music ,hmn many
analogiel , and may inspire the in' "estigat ion
of the problem of variation in architecture.
(see Rufer : op. CiL).
93 Se1:: Werner: op. cit. , and Waddington
in Whp e , Arpc,u of For"" London T951 .
9-1 Michelangelo. in'tead. mw e the middle
!iCCtion more narrow and a chara<:.
, plilt ing effect. (See Norhcrg-Schul:z: :
Mu bd""gd o... , p. 9).
!IS The r"nsion ' thus decrca= U1ward, the
apse. (See Xorberg-Scbula: I.e ulrime. .. ).
96 The cities of the past had this charaetcT.
17
the theme and its variations are primary elements which characterize
[he form in question.
In the preceding we have given an account of the more important
properties of the formal structure. We have suggested that the structure
may be simple or double, monotonous or hierarchal, special or neutral,
articulated or diffuse, consistent or contradictory, univocal or ambiguous,
continuous or discontinuous, etc.
97
An exhaustive investigation of all
these aspects belongs to a specialized study of architectural form, as a
continuation of one of the problems indicated in the present book.
We should, however, take a brief look at some structural problems
of particular interest. The first refers to Frey's distinction between ' simul-
taneous' and 'successive' forms. We understand that these concepts
correspond to our categories ' row' and ' group ' . A row is by definition
formed through a succession of clements, while the elements of a group
have several 'simultaneous' relations to each other. Rows and groups
may be combined, for instance by ordering a part of a duster relative
to an axis. A group can thus be more or less homogeneous. The categories
of Frey therefore do not add anything new to our exposition." The
dependence of a structure upon illumination and the changes of the
seasons also form an interesting problem. We have already mentioned
that the element s demand an adequate illumination to be effective, and
the same holds true for a complex structure where it is of particular
importance that the primary elements are d early perceptible.
99
It is often
interesting to investigate the changes in illumination a certain structure
can support. 100 In a climate where the changes of the seasons bring change
of environment, such as green summers and white winters with naked
trees, it is essential to develop formal structures which participate in a
meaningful way.
Our investigation shows that the formal structure can be very complex.
Its 'meaning ' consists in several rdatitdy independent aspects reflecting
the fact that a building participates in many different situations. This
implies that one of the formal levels may become obsolete, while another
one is still satisfactory. This is the case, for instance, when we disagree
upon the preservation of an old quarter in a city. Its spatial organization
is no longer practical, while it still fulfils an important milieu-function.
154
9: The inta es! in a continl.l< >U' . l r UCIUfC
ii sltong at present. It has, howc'l""'!' . ofl e D
led to diffuse: forms rather t han a real ccn-
tinuity. Mies "an der Rohe has realized a
of d early defined d emeDts and con-
l inuity.
The ed at ion of succession imp!ic, that
the ' &haufan ade ' of the Baroque forms an
integrat ing part of t he composition.
99 The add itive spatial structure. of the
Rcnai" ancc demand a uniform illuminati on,
while B:lI"l..que structures based upon domi.
nance :rnd contrast admit a morc ' dr amatic'
illumination. (See Fr ankl , Enl unckf.",gl '
p/'IUNJ.. .).
100 It would al$() be imanring to ineestl-
gate why some struetUl"CS support /'dti"...
while othen. such as modern :architture in
gena-al , He more easily disturbed.
7
Although this is a semantic problem, it has to be mentioned here because
it illuminates the multipli city of the formal structure. Often we change
some structural properties through later modifications, while others arc
left intact. A well-known example is how the projects of Michelangelo
were changed by della Porta after the death of the former. Michelangelo
planned the dome of St. Peter's as a relatively dark hemisphere. Della
Porta rised the contour and let in light from above. 101 He thus changed
certain aspects of the structure, while others were left as intended by
Michelangelo. First of all, the dome is still a dome, and its urbanistic
function is not essentially changed. The general organization is also the
same. When we still say that della Porta gave the dome a new expression,
this is due to the fact that the solution of Michelangelo possessed a
continuous structure where every part was meaningful in relation to the
whole. To solve the riddle we have to consider both architects as authors,
and we understand that architectural structures, because of their complex
nature, may very well result from collaboration or team-work '. This
is hardly possible with a literary or musical work. The complex nature
of the architectural form docs not impl y a lack of coherence. In a ' good '
building the form is just as integrated and 'organic' as in other works
of art. We should only realize that the form has to have a compound
character because architecture is less specialized than the other arts.
It is a misconception to believe that a richer form is created by
freeing' oneself from the principles outlined above. Instead one arrives 4-
at contradictions or at a general diffuseness. 10.1. We have seen that the
meaning of an object consists in its relations to other objects, that is, in a
structure. The meaning of an architectural element, therefore, also consists
in its relations to other elements (and to its own parts, i. e. to its inner
organization), and the architectural form is a complex of such relations,
as described above. The capacity of a formal structure, that is, its ability
to receive contents, is therefore determined by its degree of articulation.
A total lack of articulation is tantamount to chaos, but an exaggerated
articulation will also end in confusion. This follows from the fact that
a form has to generalize, it has to overlook certain shades to grasp the
fundamental similarities. A language which offers a new word for every
new situation is no language. Meaning presupposes the repetition of a
155
101 see NorhcrgSehulz; Mic!ld an;;do.. ,
pp. 29 fl.
102 Thi, is case in much of tbe \0-
' organi. ' ucbit""mfc. SuUi"an
and Wrigbt introduced tu m 'or.l: anic ' to
de note an organized form al and semiotic eo-
the term i. today u(lcn uo;cd to
oefend an arbi tra ry play with non -gc<,mctr ical
forms.
limited number of elements and relations, which, however. should allow
all the combinations necessary to cover all important life-situations. IOl
STYLE
In the preceding sections we have investigated the possible formal proper-
ties of the individual work of architecture. The concept of style tradi -
tionally covers formal propert ies common to a collection of works. So far
one has defined "style' in terms of such common properties. This kind
of definition may serve to classify the single works. although it is often
difficult to place a work where some stylistic characteristics appear, whereas
others are Iacking. !" The traditional concept of style, however, does not
allow for a judgement of the originality or quality of a work of architecture.
One might object that the quality is something intrinsic in the single work
as an insclhait concretization, and that the quality may not be "measured'
by comparison with other works or with a superior style. But we have
over and over again shown that a form only has meaning within a system
of forms, and that the idea of independent meaningful forms is a mis-
conception. That an independent, that is, meaningless form has quality,
is an absurd statement . lOS A form can only receive a content if it belongs
to a system of forms. Such a system we call a "styZ(' . But the concept of
style is not satisfactorily defined by the indication of a collection of formal
traits, or by the description of an "ideal ' structure. We have seen that
informat ion theor y solves the problem by showing us that the elements
and their combinations within a symbol-system app(ar with varying degrees
of probability. Certain clement s and combinations appear frequently, others
rarely. Furthermore, we have all the elements and combinations which
are foreign to the system, and which perhaps belong to other systems.
The concept of style must be defined on this basis, as a "statistical en-
semble"1fl6 Two kinds of probability are relevant. Firstly we have the purely
formal or syntactical probability which is described through an investigation
of the properties of the Secondly we have the pragmatic proba-
bilities resulting from the actual usc of the forms. If a form with a low
syntactical probability is repeated often, it will lose its originality, and if,
on the other hand, a probable (banal) form is avoided it will seem inter-
'56
10) defininon of mU$icJI
form : ' Die In der Enb tehung einer
musikahschen For m ,...rnchmlich bereiligren
sind : die Wicderholun g
und die Var iat ion .' (op. cit " p, 29).
l(M The coocept of style, theref ore, has ex-
hibired a tendency to dissolve.
lO'S Su, h i>ob ted fortns ('fa ndcl') are ccr-
tainly po"iblc, but remain meaning less.
lli6 Cherry: op. cit., p. lOR. Such concept
of style has tJ<,en introduced by Meyer.
esring or even ingenious, when it is finally used. 107 We also have to notice
that certain forms are expected in connection with certain building tasks.
This is a semantical problem which impl ies that we cannot put a sign of
equality between formal and architectural quality. A formally interesting
form becomes meaningless if it is used wrongly. IU:l
The description of a style must employ the concepts developed to
describe architectural forms in general. In this way the placing of the
single works relative to the style is made possible. Firstly we should
characterize the style in terms of a probable level-structure, and thereupon
investigate the probabilities within the single levels. 109 A work of archi-
tecture may very well be original on one formal level and conventional
on another. As the levels normally form a hierarchy, however, we can
generally decide the' real ' originality. A work which is original on all
formal levels will seem revolutionary'. A system which consists of one
level only and which employs simple elements and relations, therefore
only permit s revolutionary or banal solutions. The simple structure of
popular art, for instance, offers so few possibilities for deviation that an
apparent originality of expression has to be created by means of secondary
ornaments. To a certain extent this holds true for the lighter romantic
music of the nineteent h cemury and especially for present-day popular
music. 110 Within an art iculated system we may express instead significant
nuances without leaving the system. The original creation, hence, docs not
consist in breaking the system, but in using the system iud! in such a way
that it unveils new' hidden' possibilities. 111 The originality of an element not
only depends upon its properties, but also upon its place within the structure.
The style therefore has to be understood as a very complex dimension
of comparison which enables us analytically to place the indi vidual work,
and which through internalization as a system of expectations (schemata)
forms the basis for an adequate experience. The style is a cultural object
on a higher object level than the single work. Whil e the individual work
has one determined physical manifestation, the style has an infinite number
of such manifestations. While the individual work concretizes a particular
situation, the style concretizes a collection of such situations; in principle
it may concretize a culture in its totality. T he stvlc therefore has a stabi-
lizing purpose in society. It unites the individual products and makes them
157
1;1) It i, d ifficult 10 the srylc 01
one's own time. because ;1 i. s:ill growing
incomplele. It i. therefore neither eny
10 define the probabihry of the form, em-
plcved. When th" number of eoncreee solu-
t ion, increase, this bl:oom"" I'O'sible. Thus we
recognize {odu that m,.ny of me solut ions
of earlv funet;onali. m ,.r" reb tivelv banal .
When lo3y that eauin wor ks eabd.
this implies Ih;u their originality is confirmed
to a mor e complete undcr sunding of
the
1lJ8 II possesses, howC"C!", a potential possi-
for being u,ed
109 Dd inoo mOl;'"" and building t ypes may
facilitate the de", riplion. It i, e..cntial, how-
ever , tbat they are not regarded a. absolute
ideals. In the pa,{, norms were w nfused with
wmks of art .
11 0 We have already mentioned Ehren-
zwdli' s mi<coneeption when the second-
Jry orn,llnents prime
111 Originality eomim in intt nJrJ
,i,, 111 frum the most probable. deviarior a
arc meaningful they happen within
We recall L. B. excellent
term 'designed
appear as parts of a meaningful whole. The style furthermore preserves
certain basic intentional poles and secures the cultural continuity.
The word ' style' thus denotes 2 system of elements and relations which
appear with varying degrees of probability. In practice it may be convenient
to define the style-concept in terms of the most probable structures, to
establish a practicable norm. Deviations from this norm give information,
because information presupposes alternatives. 1I1 The pragmatic probabilities
of the style change with the creation of new works, and the information
value of a building must be ' measured ' relative to the probabilities valid
at the moment. IIJ A style thus varies in the temporal dimension, and this
'stylistic development ' may take place in different ways, through inner
and outer influences. The style changes from within because it forms a
syntactical system where experiments and new conclusions are possible,
from without because of its use and through assimilation of traits from
other systems. Elements which have been primary may for instance become
worn-out ' through constant repetition, and the style changes accordingly.
The main condition for the acceptance of a new style, or for the develop-
ment of an existing style, is that it is connected with something known,
that some of its forms are correlated with human expectations. Only in
this way can it transmit information. The correlation with a system of 83
expectations may be created through education and through becoming 84
accustomed, but a visual relationship to known forms is usually essential. IH 85
Thi s means that the stylistic development should not take place simulta-
neously on alI formal levels. The form may be stretched ' more on one
level if the others arc left untouched. Sometimes the elements are kept
constant while the relations are changed, at other times the opposite
happens. Most styles are based upon deviations on one particular level, as
for instance the exploitation of the possibilities of the grouping of mass-
and/ or space-d ements, while others repeat the same elementary
elements and concentrate upon the articulation of the bounding surfaces.m 50
Others, again, experiment with different space-forms without investigating
their possibilities of being grouped. If zn individual work deviates on
another level t han the normal one, it appears far-fetched ".
A style becomes worn out when its essential structural possibilities are
generally known. When this happens it is onlycapable of repeating relatively
15
8
lIZ Cherry (op. cit. p. '69) defines '-tl al_
ph abet a. a ' set of altemnives . and a com-
muniQtion :lI 'sel ections from the alphabet' .
11 3 Infor mation value. howe ver , should not
be confused with arristic origin ality. Compare
note 107.
114 The success of Bru nellcschi' s innovations
is surely due to his employmcllt of known
mot ives. Many of his followers took over
these mot ives, without, however , understand -
ing their structural possibilities. Thi s i. ex-
emplified by the Badia in Fieso!e where Bro-
nellesque mOllves arc without mutual
eo.ordi nation. Sec also II, 2, note 87.
115 The first was the in Renaissance
archi tecture. while !>fe<liaC'\":rJ architectur e
concentr ated on the space-boundaries. He nce
may characterize properties
of Mediaeval :uchiteelUre under the
.
7
banal solutions, possibly furnished with secondary embellishments. 1I6 The
individual work of art, however, is never worn out because it concretizes
an individual situation. 1I7 The style which ' takes over' mostly inherits
certain traits from its worn out predecessor. These arc usually motives
rather than abstract relations. Large parts of architectural history thus
exhibit a continuity of motives which participate in changing contexts. The
architecture of our time has by intention thrown all inherited motives
overboard, and also the relations for that matter. The fact that we have
recently returned to the study of the experiences of the past, shows that
it is difficult or impossible to create a style from nothing. Today we con-
centrate our interest upon the abstract relations employed in the architec-
ture of the past, rather than upon the motives which were thoroughly
devaluated in the nineteenth century. m Our time is in general character-
ized by a 'lack of style' which followed after the ' confusion of styles'.
The forms of modern architecture have never been organized to make
up a stylistic system. The need for a new style has even been denied. for
instance by Gropius, but we understand that a style is the first prerequisite
for meaningful individual solutions. 119 The expression ' lack of style' im-
plies that the forms employed do not belong to any system, while con-
fusion of styles' means that the forms are used outside the systems where
they belong. We may call the investigation of the stylistic development
'morphology' . 120 The stylistic development usually goes from diffuse to
articulated structures. Th is corresponds to the fact that a symbol-system
has to develop gradually. It cannot be created at once, but is subject to
trial and error' . 121
Words like ' tradition ' , ' convention ', ' habit" and ' taste', all express
that forms have no meaning outside a system. ' Taste' designates a purely
subjective system, while 'ruling taste ' expresses that the system is public
(this does not prevent if from being in conflict with the existing cultural
symbol-systems). 'Convent ion' is generally used to express that the forms
are conservative and exhibit a tendency to lag behind the needs they should
serve. ' Tradition ', finally, means that a product exists in a cultural' space'
with connections backwards, forwards and to the sides. The term is often
misused to defend the ruling taste. ' Tradition', however, expresses that
every work has to be new and in some aspects different, not to fall outside
1\6 VulgJr art, therefor' . does not contn-
hute to t he stylistic development.
IIi Thi, does not mean, however. that it
is . t imeless ' , and thai its quality is inde-
pendent of the style it belongs to. 'Time
le"ness' e ~ n only mean t hat a correct JUCTip.
lion i. valid also j n the future. Tile word
b.hinn' i. not the COll'"ene of ' timeless.
ness ' , but derwnes a solul iun which i, only
of transitory interest and f all.. outside the
general st}'iiSlie developmeot.
lIS The rebtions of symmrtry .and axiality,
howe.-et, were also devaluated in the rhe-
toric:' by-outs of t h" ninetecmh century.
119 Only in music h;lS a new formativ e
principle been formul ated. W" have in mind
Arnold SchOnkrg'S :Method" <kr Kompo-
,itio n mit zwclf nur aufeinander bewg"nen
Toneo ' , abo designat ed ;IS dodec.aphooy. (See
Sc!t(inbe:l"g: 'Composition with twelve tOPes',
in Style ,m" Un. . New York 1950. Aho
Rufer: op. cn.).
120 We u ke over this definition from Band.
Rufer: up. cil.).
UI See Werner: op. cit. , f'aS$im .
the never-ending stylistic development. The meaningful new creation al-
ways belongs to tradition while, the traditional, vulgar-conservative pro-
duct is banal or meaningless. III
CoNCLUSION
The preceding sections have shown how articulated forms are composed.
We have maintained that topological structures must be considered ' lower '
because the articulation only considers certain limited properties, while
the inner organization of the elements and their comprehensive interrela-
tions are irrelevant. The development of higher' structures is character-
ized both by the definition of pregnant parts (elements), and by the em-
ployment of comprehensive geometrical or combined relations. We have
furthermore stressed the fact that the capacity of the structures, that is,
their ability to solve building tasks, depends upon their degree of art i-
culation. !" Articulation implies a better adjustment to complex contents,
at the same time as the possibilities for meaningful deviations within the
system increase, that is. its ability toscommunicate. On this basis we may
objectively prove that a symphony by Mozart is. more valuable than a
piece of popular music, just as a Gothic cathedral has a higher quality than
a barn. m It is important to remember, however. that even the most arti-
culated system excludes certain possibilities, whieh may be offered by a
less articulated one. If these possibilities are needed, the inarticulate system
has to be preferred. Simple tasks, such as dwellings and farms, keep a
relatively invariant character in spite of all cultural changes. They are
therefore served by simple, fundamental formal structures which only to
a limited extent participate in the general stylistic development . These
structures apparently have a more ' true' and ' honest ' character than the
more complex higher structures, and have therefore been taken as a source
of inspiration in a time dominated by devaluated symbols. We understand.
however, that the higher structures are able to concretize a wider range of
cultural aspects and that OUI time needs a new stylistic system to fight the
formal anarchy which has existed for almost 200 years. Attempts are made,
and the concrete contributions are numerous. but without an exhaustive
understanding of the architectural form we may never reach our goal.
160
III The words' conservauve ' and ' raclical'
are usually employed in a very . confused
manner , as it bas never been made clear
what the WOfd. ' consc:rre' and 'change ' im-
port. To (()lUI;rve and 10 change are not oppo-
sites. t!eeausoe a cbange which does not to a
certain extent cons."."" , is a meaningless ru p
ture. AnalogOll'(I', a conservation which does
not allow for chan ges il petrifying. l r is
essential to realize that all objects participate
in always new sit uations to which thay have
to adapt . \Ve never perceive or concretize
lite same object IwXe, but always lite
object in a DeW liru.atioD, lItat is, a different
intermediary object . If we wut to conserve
certain objeeu from the past , this must always
be done by new means. "Truth " has to be
conquered over over 4d i"ji"it ..", .
A blind imit:uion. therefore, docs. not eee-
ser ve anj1h!ll.g. but devaluates the original
valUe!.
IH .. .. the structure of the machine or t he
organism is an index of the performance that
we may expect from it .' (N. Wiener : c-:
41111 Socidy, London 1954, p. 57).
124 Today we wu:ally react agaimt such
comparisons. niey are, however , necessary 10
prC"O' eDt our culrure frvm ending in an anarch y
of values,
4. Technics
In the followi ng we do not intend to give a survey of the technical prob-
lems of building. OUf task is only to render an account of the Tole of
construction in the architectural totality, and with thi s purpose we should
tr y to arr ive at a definition of the technical dimension.
The technical dimension is usually treated in two different ways. Some
take the materials as their point of departure and talk about 'wooden
construction' , and ' reinforced concrete construction ' , a classification which
is employed in architectural practice and which appears in many hand-
books.
1
Others take their point of departure in what the construction does.
It gives us foundations, walls, floor and ceiling, staircases, doors, and
windows. AU these part s of the building may be carried out in different
materials. In our opinion it is neither satisfactory to take the mat erials
nor the above-mentioned ' elements ' as a point of departure for an inves-
tigation of building construction. In both cases we arrive at a fragmentary
knowledge without really having understood the term technical system '. 3
With this term we designate an ordered repetition of a limited number
of technical dements. The d ements can be made up of one or more
materials. The simplest constructional method ful filling this criterion is
masonry of cut stone or brick. To explain the importance we give to
the term, we have to anticipate some semantical considerations.
The construction is a necessary means of solving the building tasks.
We have seen that the building tasks are ordered, that is, they may be
described in terms of a collection of interrelated factors. The building
task, for instance. usually demands an ordered repetition of defined di-
mensions. The formal structure also depends upon the ordered repetition
of precise dements. The construction can only serve these structures by
possessing a corresponding (or related) order. Adjustment to an order
necessarily presupposes order. But the technical dimension also exhibits an
I A text-beck of this U f . Hess :
Ko"rtru{tio" ""d Form ,m &"tm. Stull'
gart 19-49.
1 A h,uwbook on t hi> b.n is is M. Mit ug,
8"uk0J> ttrukt;0,,,ldm: . Giitcnloh tW.
3 As tar as we know, CUrt Siegel is the
onl y one who has attempted 10 understand
the technical d.imension .:II a collection of
technical that is, from a It rUClural
point of view moJer"en
Ardli/ek' ur, Miinchen 191'0). In English
srrucrure ' and ' construction ' are often used
as synonyms. We find it conve nient 10 give
"nroctur e ' a more gener al meaning, such as
' interrel ation of parts ' .
immanent tendencytowards order. It is difficult to build a house with
dissimilar pieces of material, especially if the house should have a regular
shape. It is also practical to carr y through a certain standardization of the
technical elements. A rational production of a limited number of parts
will reduce the waste to a minimum, and the process of construction itself
is simplified through a repetition of the same operations. The economi cal
factor therefore also supports the wish for technical order. 4 Finally, statical
calculation demands that the construction should have a certain regularity,
both because more favourable statical conditions result, and because the
calculation of an irregular structure is difficult or impossible. Any structure
of a certain size has to be based upon a repetition of parti cular statical
relationships. In a dome over a circular plan, all the segments runni ng
from the periphery to the centre are essentially alike; a barrel vault may
be subdivided in equal arches, and skeleton structures repeat the same '
elements throughout. 5 We understand that constructional order implies a
repetition of equal element s. The word ' element' also covers the dimensions
and materials employed.
6
The technical systems may be divided into classes with characteristic
properties. In addition to the classes proper, we know ' amorphous ' con-
structions which are common in primitive archit ecture. Clay and other
plastic materials are used to make forms of a topological character, or
unworked stones are employed to the same purpose. i Such amorphous 86
constructions offer very limited possibilities for the variation of the spatial
forms and sizes and for the placing of openings. It is interesting, however,
to notice that even such primitive methods show an immanent tendency to-
wards geometrical forms. The technical systems proper came into existence
through the development of building methods which were adapted to more
differentiated building tasks and formal structures. The systems may con-
veniently be divided into two classes: massiuc systems and skeleton systems .
Both classes have many variants, and there exist transitory types and com-
bined systems. Both the basic system types serve two purposes: the building
of bounding walls, and the covering of the spaces formed in this way. ! We
therefore have to distinguish between enclosing and covering systems. It often
happens that these aspects melt together in one complete technical system,
but often the two problems are taken care of by different types of system.
r62
4 This does not imply that the cheapest
const ruction neee,,;u-ily possesses thc highest
degre e of order. Rather we may that
ordcr is economic al if we compare several
.<lIl ilf llctor y solutions to the same building
task.
5 Sec Norberg_Schulz;: 'Nervi.. . ', pp. 30 ff .
6 When we t.:lh the conecpt of ' sys-
tcm ' as t he point of departure for our account
of the t echnical dimension, it is to i ntegrate
it more easily in t he archi tectur al theory . For
the arcni/u t it is essent ial to regard thc
technical dimen,ion in thi, way a, he has to
solvc t he buildi ng task as an int egrat ed whole.
i Domed clay-huts arc known on r eliefs
from Nine'ch, and are st ill used in Syria.
(See L. Velthcim-Lotmm : Kl eine Wd lge.
"'h ichu du WOhllhl1l1Ul , Heidel-
berg ' 952, pr. 43, 48).
8 Technical systems based on the r ight angle
are of pr imc import ance because of the adap-
tability of rcctangular space-cells. (Sec Yell
heim-umum: op. dr., pp. 50 ff .).
M ASSIVE SYSTEMS
A massive system is defined as consisting of elements which are simulta-
neously bounding and supporting. All the elements of the massive system,
therefore, have the same technical purpose. The elements of a massive
enclosing system are thus (approximately) isotropic masses, which arc
either built up through addition of subordinate elements (such as bricks),
or cast as a monolithic mass which may be decomposed analytically into 87
equal sections.
9
The same holds true for a massive covering system. While
the enclosing system offers full freedom for the formation of space-forms,
the covering system is highl y limiting. A horizontal covering depends
upon the tensile strength of the material employed. This resistance is rather
low in most of the materials used in massive systems. " Massive enclosing
systems therefore usually have been combined with coverings of the ske-
leton type (beams, girders, trusses). Massive covering systems proper, how-
ever, are exemplified by domes and vaults, where the material is subject
to compression. The Roman method of concrete construction realized a 88
complete massive system permitti ng the covering of large spaces and
offering a certain freedom of space-forms and placing of openings. Thi s
freedom has become complete with present-day reinforced concrete where
the reinforcement makes it possible to guide the forces. Reinforcement,
however, often implies an introduction of the skeleton principle, as the
mass loses its isotropic character. Also for other reasons the skeleton is a
natural consequence of modern concrete. II
A real massive system is thus characterized by the approximate equi-
valence of all the technical elements. Its surfaces and masses, therefore,
arc in principle monotonous and inarticulate, while the space-forms, be-
cause of the covering problems, are limited to a few elementary shapes.
The size and placing of openings is also restricted, and the openings acquire
figure-character with the neutral mass serving as a ground. A certain
articulation is possible through a sculptural ' treatment of the elements.
The massive construction can only serve building tasks possessing a simple
functional structure. The architecture of the past has very often been a flight
against the limitations of the massive systems. The building tasks have gene-
rally demanded a richer structure, and to satisfy this demand the massive
9 know vu y massive systems.
first real system is the polygonJI ma-
,<, nry. The Romans developed to the full the
possibilities of massive construction. (See M.
E. Bbke: Raman COMlrI,elion i n Iialy 1/11 .
\ Va,hingtun 1947-59; also G. Lugli : L1 T h.
nie<1 Edili: ia Roman" . RomJ ' 957).
10 Wood i. the only exception. In leg-
wnnruetiun wood i , to form a maSS
ive sySlem. For covering ' p,u;n. wood is
usually employed according to the skeleton
prmciple.
It See Xcrberg-Schulz : .. . .
construction has been covered with fictive members giving the illusion of a
skeleton construction. I I Or one has tried to transform the massive wall
into a skeleton. U The insufficiency of the massive systems thus has been
counteracted by an approach to the skeleton system. This fact explains
the aversion of modern architects to massive construction, and it is natural
that we no longer construct illusory skeletons when modern technics makes
it possible to carry them out in reality. 14
SKELETOS SYSTEMS
A skeleton system is defined through the distinction of bounding and
supporting elements. It therefore consists of primary and secondar y parts,
and has immediately a much richer surface-structure than the massive
system. The openings participate in the system instead of being relatively
accidental perforations. As the bounding surfaces are independent of the
supporting members, the size and the form of the spaces may be treated
with great freedom. Thi s freedom also comprises the height and the
covering of the building. Trusses and frames of steel, or shells, corrugated
slabs, and rib-constructions in reinforced concrete permit the covering of
areas of a previously unknown size. 15
The primar y members of a skeleton system form a tri-dimensional
grid which may be more or less regular. There arc several reasons for
making it regular, that is, to carry through a clear construct ion ",16 Firstly
it is possible to arrive at an economical solution through standardi zation
of the parts. Secondl y the clear construction possesses a formal order which
may be exploited. It seems natural to let the construction collaborate with
the forma l demand for articulation. The skeleton can be based upon right-
or oblique angles, and will accordingly have a varying ability to adapt itself
to different functions and building-sites. In principle we may distinguish
between two types of skeletons : <. embracing' and <. repetitious' . 17 The
embracing skeletons are used to span large continuous spaces, and mostly
form a closed whole. An embracing skeleton consisting of transversal
frames, however, may be extended by adding more frames; it is 'open' in
two directions. " Repetitious skeletons arc formed through the addition of
tri-dimensional grid units. The size of a repetitious skeleton is indeterminate.
16
4
89
90
50
3.
9 1
8 1
92
93
9.
100
12 The Romans enriched their archi tectural
form in this way. and the pr inciple became
normal in Renais...nce and Baroque archi-
tecture.
Il Th is h.lpp"ned .J.1rGdy i n the temple.
on Malta. Gothic architemlre aden t"" heS!
example of a skeleton ccns tructicn gradually
'Iibera:ed' from a massive synem.
14 Real skeletons were abo known in the
past, in wood as well a. in ' tone. The wooden
skeletons often had a rich and dider entiared
structure. bur wen: limited by the inability
of the marcri:Ll to form mgt: buildings. Large
wooden . kdetorts were also avoided because
of rheir liabiliry to catch fire. We should.
howC\'er. stress the facr that till: wooden
ronst( U(;Uons have played a more important
formative rok in history than struct ures in
' tone. (For the wooden origin of the Doric
order sec A. v. Ger bn : Gnammd te A"t
Stutt gart 1959, Pp- 3Sa fl .).
IS A ,hell of reinforced concrete is a rna..
iye construction. When covering complex
plans. hoW(:Ytt. a di vision in primal]' and
memben will .-.:suit . The work of
seem, 10 indicate th:1I the simple rns ss-
ive .hell, onl}' signify the transfer of tradi
tiona ! form, to a new material , while true
reinforced concrete struct ures acquire skeleton
character .
16 The term was introduced b)' van
dcr Robe. who intend. a regular ecnstr octicn
where tnc ...me dimensinn. ue n:pt2ted, or
changed in an ordered wa). It is essential
that the con.rr UClion . hould form a logical
"hole. (See Norherg.$<;hulz : ' Talks... ,).
17 See Norberg.Schull" Mies van der Rohes
klassicisme", Byggektmst 1959; also "Nervi.. .'.
13 An embracing skeleton becomes cern-
pleldy closed through centr alization, Enr in.
sunee in the Palazzi delle Sport in Rome by
:'<erYi .
One of the most interesting possibilities offered by the skeleton system is the
formation of flexible structures. The embracing or closed skeletons must be
understood as special cases within a general theory of skeleton systems. 19
The secondary parts can be of many different kinds. They may for
instance form a complete secondary skeleton which embraces new subor-
dinate elements. Such a secondary skeleton becomes necessary when the
primary skeleton has very large spans. Wind-pressure and the need for
attaching windows and other bounding elements demand a reduction of
the spans. 20 A secondary skeleton articulates the structure. The secondary 94
dements proper may be: divided in couermg, filling, and free-standing
d ements. A free plan usually demands all three types. If the grid-units
of the skeleton are adjusted to the functions, only covering and filling
d ements have to be: employed. 21 But the functions are usually so complex
that a regular skeleton is unable to adjust itself completely. Free-standing
elements become necessary.
We may alsoimagine skeletons consisting of flexibl e grid-units. Through
an ordered contraction or enlargement the adjustment to the functions may
become perfect. In this case free-standing elements are superfluous. It is
doubtful, however, whether such a system can compete with an embracing
skeleton where the subdivision of the spaces is taken care of by means
of free-standing or movable partitions.
A problem of great importance when planning skeleton systems is the
technical connection of the individual parts, the so-ca lled joint' . The
joint determines the structural possibilities of the skeleton and therefore
belongs to the theory of skeleton systems. But it would carry us too far
to consider this problem in further detail. 22
The introduction of technical skeleton systems has brought forth a
discussion whether one should 's how the construction' or Dot.
23
In general
an accentuation of the primary skeleton is implied. But we also know of
attempts at letting all the technical elements ' express' their role within
the system. The problem is formal rather than technical. There is of course
no technical reason for emphasizing particular members, for instance by
means of different colours. But a logical realization of a skeleton system 94
naturally leads to a certain articulation, often because the primary and
secondary elements have to be made of different materials. The question
19 Buckmineee has for ycars tr ied
to build domes by means of skeletons. Rather
than contributing to the theory of skeleton
systems, he l ies new technical possibilities 10
a conventional for lIt.
2tI The wind.br :acing a n tx, taken a re of
by rnalJi elemen t. This. boWCT. would
red uce the adn.ntag.. of lkeldon construe
don. at the ume time :;IS the starie conditiofU
of the skeleton ar e ebangro in an irregular

21 The 5O-al1ed 'cumin-wall' exemplifies a
eoeri ng element . For an excellent diKunion
of the formal possibilities of skeletons we
refet 10 Siegel: op. cit .
22 Kon rad Wachsmana regards the joi nt 1$
the basic problem in archit ecture . (See Wt nat -
punkt im Bauel/, 1959.) Al a
mat ter of pri nciple we find it inconvenient
to start with a detail , and cann ot accept this
point of view.
n See J. [oedicke: ti" modernell
ArcMuktur, Stuttgar t 1958, pp- 124 ff.
then arises whether one should stress fur ther this articulation, or rather
try to counteract it. Both solutions are possible. To repress the primary
skeleton would mani fest an intention contrary to the one which produced
the fictive orders of classical architecture. In the past the construction was
'enr iched ' because it did not satisfy the building task. We cannot say
that this was wrong. It only becomes wrong when the technical means to
escape fictive members are available. The demand for' technical honesty'
therefore has not an absolute character. If today, for practical or econo-
mical reasons, we use an unnecessarily rich skeleton system to serve a
simple task, it is neither wrong to repress or moderate this structure. But
the skeleton systems are so flexible that this adjustment can usually happen
without going against the nature of the system in question. We may for
instance avoid emphasizing the primary members visually. If we instead
want to ' show the construction ' , this has to be done by means of a clear 94
definition of each element. 24
While the massive systems have simple and relatively amorphous pro-
perties, the skeleton systems offer the richer possibilities for articulation. 25
Because of its repetitious and hierarchical properties we may characterize
the skeleton system as 'archi tectural ', while the massive system is ' sculp-
tural '. But the skeleton system ' an sich ' is schematic and needs a sculp-
tural treatment of its members. Modern concrete-technique, in particular
as developed by Nervi, realizes a unique synthesis of the possibilities of 93
the skeleton and massive systems, where continuity and plastic shape
are combined with repetition and hierarchical order. The technical revo-
lution of the last 100 years therefore becomes something more than a
technical revolution. It has given the technical dimension a new role in
the architectural totality. The technical systems of the past were relatively
simple and could never playa leading part. We know exceptions, but
usually the construction was an insufficient means to create architectural
order. The skeleton systems, however, have such a rich immanent order
that it would be foolish not to exploit the possibilities they offer. The clear
construction not only gives coherence to the building because of its repe-
tition throughout, but also makes possible the articulation which previously
was achieved by means of fictive members. This is the new and decisive 76
role of the technical dimension in the architectural totality. 26
166
24 In his later work Mies Van der Rohe has
to a high degree succeeded in such a ' dd i_
nition'. The project for an Administration
Building at the I. I. T. offers a good example.
The primary frame, cut aero" the building
and are completely shown in the shoner fa-
cades. The COnCave ,ide of the steel members
are here exposed to give the frame a plastic,
amphasized (primary) character. In the long
facades, which are co,'ering, the flat ,ides of
the members f1u,h. In other buildings wherc
all the arc wvering. Mies tr eats all the
visihle ' tee! in the latter way. (Stt P. lohnson .
Miu van du p. 139; also Norberg-
Schulz : ' Husbygging med stalskjelctt ' , Byg-
1956).
25 The two t ypes of system may of course
be mixed to form a construction whieh is
massive i n some parts and exhibits ,keleton
properties in others. Such a 'synthesis' , how_
ever , has to be done on the basis of dearly
showing which type of system the single d e-
ments bdong to, and without using the Same
material in contr adicting wap.
16 Not berg-Schulz : ' Nervi. .. ' pau;m. See
also foedicke: op. cit. The conccpt of d ear
construction not only refers to skeletons, but
to any Strong Gcstall whieh has a technical
basis.

5. Semantics
In the previous chapters we have rendered an account of the different
pole-objects which may ent er the archit ectural totality. Before we can
discuss the architectural totality as such, we have to investigate the interre-
lations between the established pole-classes.
The word semantics' denotes the relation between a sign and what
it designates. When we employ this term in connection with architecture,
it is to assert that the dimensions of building task, form, and technics are
interrelated, and that the formal and technical realization manifests a
task, a 'content ' . The aim of the scmanrical investigation is to explain
these inter relations, and also to present certain conclusions about the
capacity of formal and technical systems, that is, their ability to solve
tasks. In general. this implies that we should answer the question whether
particular for ms fit particular tasks. The famous slogan ' form follows
function' expresses the basic import ance of this question. It is usually
maintained tha t the definition of the functions (the task) should precede
the (formal) realization, but recently it has also been asserted that it is
better first to make a practical form into which the functions are fitted
afterwards. I In both cases the need for a correspondence between the two
dimensions is expressed. Forms are not improvised as a free play, and we
cannot fit the functions to accidentally existing forms. This state of affairs
should be self-evident; " but often, however, we notice that the practising
architects do not conceive their forms in accordance with a clearly defined
building task. Rather they employ foreign' forms borrowed from the
past or the present.
3
Such solutions usually stem from too narrow a defi-
nition of the problem, that is, onl y one aspect of the buildi ng task has
been considered. The emergency housing in Norway after the war , for
instance, was domi nated by the simple need for physical control. Better
I Mics van dec Rohe sars : Th e purpose
the building is :alW:lrs changing, bul
we cannot :lfford to pull the building down.
Tb eretoee we put Sul liv:m' s s1og::on ' fmm fol -
lows function ' upside down, :md :I.
practical :1. 00 economical sFe inlO which we
fil the fuoctioos. (Nocberg-Schulz: T:allu.. ...)
2 Th e e"preuion ' to .ruve :I problem ' ecr-
m:l.lIy mcans tc find :I correct form . If the
focm does not fit, it is evident that the prob-
Inn hu nol: M n .ruVM. If :1.11. forms would
fit :III tasks, the .:I.t"chirm beromcs uaoeces-
sarY. "nd architecture dissolees.
3 Th is ..-as lfpi.eal duriog the ' confusion
of bur even xby buikl iDg is oft en
an arbitrary play disguised :l.S .:I.t"(bi
lecture.
one-family houses, instead, are: often determi ned by the Imitation of tra-
ditional models which originally represented solutions to quit e different
building tasks. These: houses, therefore, manifest a narr ow and dubious
intention of irrelevant cult ural pole-objects. To defend the assertion that
there should exist a correspondence: between the: solution and the task, it
ought to be enough to point to the: fact that any function has its ' structure '
which necessarily has to be taken into consideration. Obviously we do not
chop wood with a hammer, but it should be just as evident that we: do
not eat pastries in a Gothic cathedr al. We: could also express this state of
affairs by saying that architecture not only frames the functions, but
actually participates in our activities. We walk 0 11 the floor, we close doors
to be: alone, and we: open the windcvv for ventilation. What has been said
above about the perception (usc) of objects, shows that thi s participation
is 'lot merely physical. The things arc always perceived with a meaning,
because they participate in activities which belong to a series of interrelated
object-levels. " The perceived meaning may also result from our having
learned the conventional symbolic import of things. Any house, thus, im-
mediately symbolizes aspects of the cultural objects basic to a form of life.
We have also sugge: sted that the spatial organization of a building should
have .t structural similarity' to certain aspects of the: building task, such
as a complex of more: or less interconnected actions. We: may conclude:
that the: formal levels ought to re: presem a system of functional levels.
If we investigate these problems somewhat more closely, we will find
that there arc several kinds of semantical relations determining the archi-
tectural totality.
SE.M."NTICAL kELATtONS
Firstly there exists an empirical connection between forms and contents.
Forms in general manifest what can be done relatite to them. A landscape:
looks ope:n or closed because its forms expre:ss our possible movement s.
To the: peasant the: rocks and the: mountains are: ' ugly' because he cannot
cultivate: them. As long as the feeling for such empirical connections was
alive, man built with the landscape. Industrialized man, instead, believes
that the technical means enable: him to make everything everywhere, which
168
~ w hee the door " , ~ s ~ symbolic form. it
meant something morc rhan a ph)".ic:L1 ~ i o n
to 0 !"'11 or close a door .
implies that all empirical connections become meaningless.
5
The result is
a loss of ability to unify the buildings with their surroundings. The em-
pirical connections, in other words, import that the architectural forms
are properties of a larger whole, that they arc functionally connected with
actions and with the environment. This is not the same as a normal pheno-
menal relationship. Phenomena may together without forming an
operating whole. The empirical connections, therefore, could alsobe charac-
terized as a "causal connection' , where the architectural object forms an
active part. Physical cont rol is only possible by means of this scmantical
relation. We have already suggested that a building may be understood
as a filter' which transforms the given geographical ' conditions. We
exclude or let through light and heat according to our needs, and change
the spatial structure of the environment to facilitate the exerciseof particular
functions. By means of "filters' (doors, windows, walls) we obstruct or
regulate the movement from one place to another, and hinder optical and
acoustical disturbances. Or we connect two ' places' by an artificial means
which secures an ordered "traffic' .
The description of the semantical dimension, however, is not finished
by pointing out the empirical connection. The investigation proper actually
starts when we ask how such a connection is established. In other words,
why arc certain pole-objects capable of forming an architectural totality?
The answer to this question leads to two dearly defined semantical rc-
lations." Firstly a form may mediate or represent another because the two
have common properties {tstrucrural similarity'); secondly a form may
represent another on the basis of a convention. The first case is well
covered by the German word Abbildung, while the second is a ' symboliza-
tion I in the narrower sense of the word. " The contentional sign is by
definition a whole whose own structure is irrelevant. It represents another
whole whose structure is also semantically irrelevant. The conventional
sign, therefore, acts formally as an clement , Th is does not mean that it
has to be a subordinate motive; a building or even a whole city may also act
as a convent ional sign. Th e conventional sign can also be a characteristic
building type, a ground-plan, or a particular space-form, etc. We under-
stand that it is linked with the symbol-milieu, just as the empirical con-
nection helps to constitute the physical milieu. The symbol-milieu may
5 One migh t ohject th:1( the by .
oUIl Jl-o went ' agaimt ' me lanJscapc. This
is true. but we should rcmcmlxr that the
Baroque i, a complete land-
scape in iudf. Today we ha\' e neither a
"natural" nor an artificial ' order, but a
ehaeue rcpctit >oo of "' parate elemerns.
(, S the KCtioo on Object and descrip-
tion ' (Pari. I. ch. 3).
; uses concepts somewhat
differently (Oil' Entztd,,"'C... pp. t OO tf).
ACertain building types in t he tnwnscape
may (hus be conventional signs for part icular
ie snunions,
be based upon signs which in principle are freely chosen, provided they
are common (public). We should, however, point to the fact that the con-
ventional signs employed arc usually abstracted from an original state of
structural similari ty between a form and a building task. " The dome
originall y portrayed heaven, and only later became a conventional sign
with a more general sacred character , assigning a certain ' digni ty' to
the architectural solution. A form which is exclusively based on conven-
tional signs, therefore, consists in an addi tion of separate meanings , without
considering their interrelationships. We may still use the word 'form '
because of the topological organiza tion of the signs. We have seen, how-
ever, that the building tasks usually possess an order which transcends the
topological relations, and therefore requests a certain co-ordination of the
formal clements. When the forms accordingly are brought to correspond
with the structure of the task, we talk about' structural similarity '.
The iconic form is defined in terms of its structure and fits all the
content s which have a corresponding structure. Causally determined or
conventional elements may be parts of an iconic form. We cannot maintain
that a door (a ' filter ' ) portrays anything, but the more comprehensive
spatial structure to which the door belongs may have a logical form which
corresponds to certain action-structures. The concept of ' structural simi-
larity ' has been explained before. We should, however, repeat that struc-
tural similarity (isomorphy) is basic to any descript ion. " A scientific
description aims at representing a structure which is characteristic of the
object of the description. To carry out the description the scient ist uses
conventional symbols which are put in the necessary relations to each other.
The single symbols, for their part, are also defined in terms of structures.
Convent ional signs, therefore, are ' abbreviations' of a structural descrip-
tion. II To be able to talk about structural similari ty, it is necessary first
to render an account of the structural properties of our basic dimensions
of comparison. In the previous chapters we have tried to do this, and we
have introduced several concepts common to the dimensions, such as
' element' and ' relation ' .
The iconic relation is of the greatest importance because it makes the
concretization of relevant intermediary objects possible. The cathedral has
to be understood as a very complex icon which represents the decisive
17
9 We could compare wit h the ' poken lan_
guage whe re some wor d, have onomalOp""' tic
root'.
to Children order cardboard d isc, of nry-
3 1 ing sizes a, a family_ The largest d i,e' arc
parent" others are aunt s and un cles, and
the smalles arc (See op. cit .) .
J1 Scient ific descrip tions ha ve become mor e
and more ab,tract , but ,h ould r emember
tha t the general aim i, always the Slm e, th at
i,. the [rambtion of a ,tructu re int o another
me<:l ium.

higher objects of the period. " The iconic form may be more or less 33
directly portraying, in the literal sense of the word. The seven steps of
the Ziggurat ' portray' the seven heavens which make up the cosmos. IJ 95
The church, on the other hand, does not portray ' the Mystical Body of
Christ ', but only some of its manifestations. H The iconic relation was
extremely important in the architecture of the past, and is probably just
as ancient as the causal connection. " We have mentioned that the column 34
originally was erected to represent the phallus, while the cave represented 35
the womb from which the new life comes. 16 The combination of these
two iconic elements created the first real works of architecture. In the
megalithic temples on Malta the hardness and power of the stone is stressed 36
by the definition of straight lines and plane surfaces. While the dolmen
and the cyclopic walls directly' exhibit their symbolic weight and per-
manence, the Maltese wanted to represent this content by means of par
ticular lines and directions. The force of gravity was abstracted visually
from the rude, inarticulate matter. This abstraction furnished the basis
for the development of an architectural symbol-system comprising con-
ventional signs. We understand that an architectural symbol-system consists
of conventional signs abstracted from iconic forms. The signs form a part
of the cultural tradition and may be used over and over again to make
up ever new formal structures. These structures represent more or less
complex building tasks and are therefore iconic signs on a higher level.
The higher structures can also become conventional signs. When we talk
about the 'space-conception' of an epoch, we refer to formal principles
which have become conventional signs, and determine many different
architectural totalities, giving these a characteristic common stamp. While
the iconic representation in principle is special or insdhaft , the conventional
symbol-system furnishes general elements which make it possible to solve
building tasks with the same basic means. To illustrate what has
been said above, we will give some examples of conventional and iconic
symbolization.
Social roles are represented by means of conventional forms. The royal
castle is a building type fulfilling this purpose. The representing form
may of course possess a structural similarity to some of the functions
performed by the role, but this is not necessary. 17 In no case can a role
'7'
12 Scdlmayr: E"w,"hung... , pr. 95 IJ.
H See E. Unger: Babylo" . di,"hdlig," Stadt .
AIKl ScdJmayr : Architd {tur als abbiU,""d,"
Kunrr . p. 19.
14 See K. Adam: indn st,"
' 945. pp. 36 tf.
IS Scdlmayr : als
Kunst.
16 Kaschnitz - Die mittelmeer-
iseh,"" ... , prlSsim.
17 When Rop.l palaces are made !ymmet.
rica.! . it i. because the , )mmctricaJ. foem has
the character of a romplete ' wot"ld' which
....ants 10 dominale in !urroundings.
as a whole be represented through structural similarity, as it is sure to
comprise properties which are independent of the building tasks connected
with it. Difference in status, however, may be represented through struc-
tural similarity. This, for instance, is the case when a firm gives the
managing director an office clearly different from the ' cd ls' of the em-
ployees. Collectivities, therefore, may be represented in terms of their
status-structure, as well as through conventional signs. \ Ve have asserted
that the mediaeval city-wall was an expression of civitas. As the city-wall 28
physically embraces the urban collectivity, we cannot regard it as a purely
conventional sign; this, however, was the case when the city-gate or a 97
single tower took over the representing function. 13 A town-hall is normally
used for festive occasions as well as administrative purposes. This functional
structure may, as already suggested, be expressed in the general formal
lay-our. " In the past towers and domes were well-known conventional
signs for town-halls, churches, and castles. As our building tasks manifest
a system of institutions, it is of decisive importance to develop correlated
architectural themes' . Social situations should also have an appropriate
architectural frame. The space-form of a lecture hall expresses the situation
that one person is talking to a group of others, whereas a room for seminars
is determined by a different social situation : several persons work together
in a circle.
Cultural objects are also represented in both ways. Most obvious is a
representation by means of an abstract sign or a characteristic attribute.
A logico-mathematical object such as Euclidean space may be represented
as a co-ordinate system (structural similarity), but a fragment of the co-
ordinate system can also serve as a conventional sign for the pole-object. " 85
The intension of logico-mathematical objects in architecture usually mani-
fests higher cosmological or religious objects. The latter can also be
represented directly. The Trinity, for instance, has been ' portrayed ' in 96
church-buildings by means of a triangular plan with three apses. 21 The
cathedral also represents a complex of religious and cosmological objects,
and the representation of single cosmological ideas is common in archi-
tectural history. " Cosmological objects are often combined intentionally
with empirical facts. for instance in the convex Capitoline Square by Michel- 019
angelo, where the caput mundi idea is united with the knowledge that
1]2
U See W. Braunfcl>: op. cit.
19 For instance in the cily hall of Oslo
where a hall is placed bet ween tWO
ol1iee rower. do not , however , imply
that th i, is the best war of solvin.': t he
problem.
10 Duri ng the Euclidean frag.
ments projected on 10 mani_
fl,t the ' . parial conception ' of the epoch.
21 For imranee in the Dreifaltigk citskircbc
Geor" P ientzenhofer in Kappcl.Wa ldlaucn
(16HS), (Sec E. Hempel : (kse!lie!lu <irr arm.
sellrn 8.JttkUtlst, Miinehen p.
:Z Su Scdlm.ayr: An:hiuktur als abb' /Jr" Jr
K",,.t . Hi ndu tempI" is ' die plaseiscbe
Schilderung einer tcrrnscnfiirmigcn Him-
melsstadr ' (p. 3).
the earth is a sphere; " Ideological objects are also often represented. The
democracy of our time is reflected in the equality of all building tasks,
an idea which frequently leads to an anarchy of architectural forms. But
if democracy in principle docs not admit difference in absolute status,
this does not imply that we not be able to distinguish between a
church and a petrol station. In the Soviet Union a particular type of
' skyscraper' has become a conventional sign for ideological objects. 24
Finally, we have to mention that economical objects may be intended,
both by letting a building look more expensive than it is, and by mani-
festi ng a difficult economy through a poor and primitive formal structure."
Summing up we may say that the physical milieu is taken care of by
forms causally connected with the: functions, and by giving the organization
of these forms a structural similarity to the functional structure. The
symbol-milieu is satisfied by conventional elements whose organization
also exhibits a structural similarity to the structure of the higher objects
comprised by the building task in question.
The exactness of the structural similarity should be discussed briefly.
Through generalization we may establish classes of building tasks and
develop a corresponding formal system (style). Such a general formal
system will only allow for an approximate. adjustment to the individual
building task. 26 We could instead let the formal structure fit the individual
situation 'like a glove' . In this case we obtain a perfect immediate satis-
faction, but also a certain lack of visual order." The real solution, therefore,
seems to be the creation of double or triple structures where one level
remains fairly constant and expresses that the building belongs to a class
(t ype), while the other levels are adjusted to the individual situation. 28
A building task usually comprises functional, social, and cultural poles.
The form is correlated with these poles through different semantical rela-
tions. The same form can thus be causally connected with the functions
and represent conventionally a cultural object (e. g. the column). The
formal structure may also be composed in such a way that some d ements
satisfy the physical milieu, while others belong to the symbol-milieu. 29
The semantic relations may even vary within the single formal level, A
semantical analysis of an architectural totality, therefore, is often a very
'73
03 Sec :-lorbag.Scbulz, ..
Sec H. A. }lcd,: ' Retr.,;,.t to Moscow',
in A""i:rnu,,,l }t1rch 1953.
This" Inc case in many of du: housing
devd opm.,nts u rric:<! out in Norway :aha the
S<"<:ooo wmld war.
]f) This is the method of Mie. van der
Rohe.
This is the method of early funetion;,.lism.
26 Th i. method still belongs to t he future,
but ;t seems to be: the onl y one which m;,. y
counteract the incre>sing .,nvironment;,.! ch:>oo.
2j In the. udl itc>:tur., of the Renaissance
the ' controlling ' m:oss i. ' dlXOJ;,. tro' witb
ficti"", ordas wbich b;,.vc ;,. symboliting func.
tion.
compl icated affair. In any case we have to reject architectural theories
which ' explain" the relation task-means in terms of a single principle.
So far, we have only considered the building task and the formal
structure. HO\v does the technical dimension enter the scmantical investi-
gation? A technical solution is obviously never based on conventions. It is
either satisfactory or not. 30 This means that causal connection and struc-
tural similarity are the only semanti cal relations possible in this context.
Both form and technics arc abstractions from the total realization. Nor mally
the buildi ng task is solved by means of forms whi ch are realized tech-
nically 'afterwards' The technical dimension, therefore, only symbolizes
oia the form.
31
Even the demand fer physical control is satisfied via the
form, as the controlling technical elements (' hirers' ) have to be ordered
relative to each other. The form can only be omit ted if we content ourselves
with a solution which is merely technically satisfactory. l1 We should tc-
member, on the other hand, that the formal structure is influenced by
the technical possibilities; it does not make sense to invent forms which
cannot be built. In general there should exist a relation of structural
similarity between form and technics. It is surely possible to realize an
intended form by means of a technical improvisation, but we have already
proved that the technical solution ought to have system-character, and we
understand that a sound' solution should employ a construction which
possesses the formal properties needed. It is not always possible to fulfil
thi s ideal demand. The Gothic builders managed in spite of the stone', 33
while other periods have onl y realized in part the correspondence between
the formal and the technical structures. In architectural history the technical
dimension plays the role of an obedient servant who willingly abandons
his honesty. When having to realize a formal structure technically, there
arc usually several alternatives to choose between, which for their part
contribute in different ways to the articulation of the form. As the form
normall y possesses several levels, the technical realization often has to
comprise several collaborating systems. We also know cases, however,
where a unifor m type of construction covers all the levels.B A technical
description, therefore, is not a substitute for the formal description. But it
is often convenient to unify the two in accordance with their structural
similarity. H
' 74
30 Thi s does not that me technical
wlution i, univocal, MOl[ tasks "," Ycra!
utilbetory 'olutions. Among these l ome may
be . convent ional' and ot her> 'radical' . This ,
of course, docs not imply that thc w oven
solutions arc COrL YentirL nal ,igTIJ.
31 Whcn we a con,t ruction as
"beautiful", we experience formally.
symbolize thwugh their formal properties.
l2 A satL,fJClOr y ,olut ion, how-
ever . dOCI not necessarily solve thc building
tal k. This can only happen vi" the form.
33 Gmll ic hal a high degr ee of
uniformity, while the primar y constr uct ion of
van dec Rohe take, care of one level
only. The other levels ace ut i, ficd by ""cond
aCj' technical meal'll .
for instance by sa)';ng that regular
steel skeleton give, order to the free plan. '
,
C.U.-\CITY
In the previous section we have rendered an account of the relations
between the dimensions of task, form, and technics. We still have to
investigate the relations between the style, the collection of building tasks,
and the technical means of an epoch. The style is defined as a formal
system, and we understand that it has to allow for a formal adjustment
to all the individual buildi ng tasks of the period, at the same time as it
should manifest the interrelations of the tasks. \Ve have seen that the
interrelations of the tasks must be understood as a kind of 'higher ' ,
more comprehensive (c. g. urbanistic} task. The style, therefore, should
enable the solutions of the individual building tasks to present themselves
as belonging to a general order which manifests the most basic functional,
social, and cultural structures of an epoch. The main formal structures
of a style, accordingly, should be correlated to particular buildi ng tasks. 35
The unified character of the style is aided by the employment of one
single technical system, but as different tasks demand varying degrees of
flexibility, several technical systems are usually necessary. Modern skeleton
systems, however, possess a high degree of adaptability.
The word adaptability' leads us to the second main problem of the
semanrical investigation: the capacity of formal and technical systems. In
the previous chapters we have asserted that the capacity is a function of
the articulation of the systems. A simple building task may be satisfied by
a relatively inar ticulate form, whi le a task where the pole-objects are many
and belong to different classes demands a correspondingly differentiated
form. 36 An inarticulate form can only receive inarticulate contents. If the
articulation is based upon probable combinations of clements and relations,
the form will be capable of covering sereral contents with a certain degree
of approximation. If, instead, the articulation is more: special', the form
may only be correlated to a correspondingly special content. J' A building
task is especially important if it can be understood as a focus' for many
aspects of the form of life. We have maintained that religion, philosophy,
ideology, and art order individual life-si tuations into meaningful patterns,
and also that certain life-situations focus the changing happeni ngs of daily
life. J8 Building tasks which are connected with such basic concretizations,
' 75
We have mentioned rhat Alberti
explicitly rut forward tllis demand. He thus
wanted tu represent llle perfect' religiou s
content by means of perfect forms, while the
informal life lived in lhe countr y vilbs found
its expression in less regubr forms.
l6 Tr,ur'ltrll 3.13.
17 The -embracing ' space of .-an der
is ....ulral in order 10 satisfy v:lrying
lalk,; .
Jl! These ,;;Iual ion. arc ruhurally deter-
mined, but usually connected with Ihe decisive
ph,lle' of huma n life. such as birth and death.
therefore, arc of decisive social and cultural importance, and demand a
rich and articulate formal realization.
39
The capacity of an individual
form has to be in accordance with the structure of the task in question,
while the style integrates the individual forms in a more comprehensive
system. In this way a continuity between ' higher ' and 'lower ' tasks is
created, at the same time as all tasks are interpreted as aspects of the same
form of life. An epoch, thus, is characterized by determined semantical
correlations between classes of formal structures and tasks.
The correspondence between form and task is rarely univocal. The
same task can usually be solved by several relatively different means, which,
however, ought to have a certain structural similitude (synonyms). 40 Ana-
logously a form can receive different but related contents (homonyms).
This 'vicariousness' (equivocality) is important because it implies that
certain changes in the task may happen without necessitating radical formal
alterations, and that certain formal experiments can be carried out without
destroying the correspondence with the task-structure. The vicariousness,
therefore, is essential for the historical continuity.
We have also seen that the correspondence between form and task
depends upon the scale. If a building task demands enormous dimensions,
we may have to represent it in a way basically different from the repre-
sentation of a ;. similar ' task demanding small dimensions. In other
words, the formal structures arc only J(mantical/y possible within certain
dimensional ranges. When forms become very large. for instance, it is
hardl y advisable to carry out a uniform geometrical articulation, and
accordingly we recognize the fact that topological relations have always
been important in city planning. " The normal principles of architectural
form, therefore, arc only valid within a certain 'human' range of di-
mensions. The limits seemto differ for mass-, space , and surface-dements.
The importance of the scale also implies that a style is co-ordinated with
determined dimensions. H It is not possible to treat the problem theoreti-
cally in further detail, as it forms a part of architectural history. But the
theory must put the problem, in order to escape the hypostatization of
an absolute syntax. +!
In general, semantics asks what a certain form means at a certain time.
We may say that the forms possess symbolizing capacities, but they become
1]6
39 Thi $ why we dn nOl pby a
Viennese wahz at a funera l. The simple form
of the waltz adapts ihel / to simple lile-
,itu atioM, while the funeral a eentral , it-
cano n requi res a different formal ' frame'. I n
general . the central concre tizations demand a
',ymphonie' form, which embrace' motives
belonging to the single everyda y situation' .
A ordi ngl y, we have to distinguish between
perfection and grea/nus. A simple for m may
be perfect , but never gr eat. It is aloo mean-
ingful to talk about gr eat , but not ent irely
successful (perfect) works . (See L, B. Meyer:
'Some Remar ks on Value and Greatne.. .. .
p. 499)
4() The wor k of Michelangelo exhibits sev-
eral for mally diffen:nt int erpretations of a
meaningf ul motive of conll.icting
rising and falling movements".
For instanee. the small church and me
eat h<:dtal.
42 While furn irure and 10wn..:a.pes an: often
organiud xeordi ng to topological rdation$.
the intermediate building is ullla.lly gromd-
rial. ThCTe are, of coune. many ....ccptiow.
43 One of the reasons for the failure of the
' monumenul ' lay-ouu of the nineteenth cen-
tury is that they did not obey the ",ale n:nural
to the nyle in question.
+! We mould repeat that the formal pri n-
ciples described in the pres.ent study are purely
arulyUea.l and not tantamount 10 an ab!.olun:
syntu.

active and real only through a semantical correlation with building tasks.
Particular forms are at particular times given meaning by particular
semantical relations. The forms arc devaluated when the semantical di-
mension is neglected. Devaluation is not a forrnal problem, but has a 2
semantical character, and imports that a form is used without the adequate 4
correspondence to the building task. 45 99
Today we usually demand a full correspondence between the form and
the technical realization, and even let the forms arise as results of technical
experimentation. Semantical investigation, however, tells us that the cor-
respondence between task and form is more important , and that this is
the only means to combat visual chaos. The importance given to the tech-
nical dimension in our time stems from the need for industrializing the
building activity. Industrialization, however, presupposes a repetition of
equal problems, that is, the establishment of a limited number of classes
of building tasks. On this basis technical systems ought to be developed
which possess the necessary properties to satisfy the classes. Under a devel-
oped industrialization the technical systems will be given in advance.
The practising architect only has to choose the system which fi ts the cask
in question best, that is, to create a semantical correspondence. Industrial-
ized technical systems, therefore, have to be defined in terms of the
structural properties which determine their semantical capacity. This again
stresses the importance of interpreti ng the technical dimension of the
architectural totality as a collection of systems, rather than as a knowledge
about materials and technical details.
' 77
'I } One of the reaS{)", for the degeneration
of the da"ica! palace fa"adc in the nineteenth
cent ury i, thaI il Wa' applied 10 an arehiree
tural organism where it did not fil, that is,
the apartme nt house and t he o f f i ~ huilding,
which are both characTerized by an addition of
equat .parial uni ts (room., .to rey.). The pal
ace. howeYer, wa. a differ"nti.aIM organism.
6. The architectural totality
ARCHITECTURE .0\5 AN' INTERMEDIARY OBJECT
In the previous chapter we have correlated the different pole-objects
which may enter the architectural totality. The theory is not complete,
however, before we have taken a look at the more characteristic totalities
which arise when different poles and semantical relations are combined.
Firstly we want to stress that any work of architecture must comprise
poles from all the main classes. A work of architecture is only created
when a building task is realized technically within a style. An archi-
tectural intention is characterized in this way. The main dimensions arc
ordered in a certain succession. Thus the form has to possess structural
similarity to the building task, and the technical solution to the form. I
Conventional signs may enter the solution, but they should not dominate,
as the creation of architecture obviously cannot consist in an
upon a conventional sign for a building task. A solution is only realized
when the structure of the task has found its formal equivalent. We should
also remember, however, that the form directly enters some of the pole-
objects of the task.
2
The technical systems cannot be described without
referring to formal properties, while the formal structure is completely
covered by the synt actical dimension itself. As a totality, the work of
architecture therefore concretizes a coherence-system of poles. It is charac-
terized by uniying poles of kinds, and not by the wish to abstract
pure, univocal objects. That a successful work of architecture is so often
labelled 'organic ', is simply because architecture concretizes like nature
herself. As an intermediary object the work of architecture docs not
the world, rather it unifies some of its aspects in a new mean-
ingful whole.
' 79
I Tho: form represents th" usk, while the
opposite is not the 01"'.
2 Some of th" polc-objccu, esJ'CC'ially tunc -
non al ones, can not be defined independently
of cert ain formal properties.
When we distinguish between the pragmatic, semantic, formal, and
technical components of the architectural totality, this does not imply
that we dissect and 'kill' the work of architecture. It only means that
we comparc the individual and unified work with other objects: with
higher objects, with formal categories, with technical systems and with
scmantical relations. The theory of architecture should render an account
of how this in done and should indicate the dimensions of comparison
to be used, while empirical research treats the individual concrete case.
The comparison shows that the work of architecture can be described by
means of cert an clearly defined and interrelated pole-objects.
We have seen that certain poles are more important for the totality
than others. The most important (primary) poles arc those which are con-
nected with man}' of the others, that is, changing them would influence
large parts of the totality. Secondary poles, instead, are relatively isolated.
3
Within all the main classes we find primary and secondary poles. An
aspect of the building task, for instance, is secondary if it can be removed
without influencing the realization. A form is secondary if it does not
contribute to the solution of the task. Some secondary poles may have the
character of ' by-products' , that is, properties which were not really
intended, but which are drawn in by the real intentions. A symmetrical
disposition, for instance, can result from purely topological intentions.
Architectural history is full of such secondary forms which are due to
accidental circumstances of to purdy formal intentions. If the form gets
too rich' for the task, the solution is still valid. When the opposite
happens, however, the solution is no longer satisfactory. A too rich solution
may seem interesting, but this effect is dangerous because it destroys the
dear scmantical relations which should secure an ordered environment.
A solution where the form is too poor has a similar negative effect,
because it induces us to lessen our demands for semanrical correspondence.
The final summing-up of a structural analysis should distinguish be-
tween the primary and secondary poles. We have already introduced
the terms primary' and ' secondary' when discussing the different basic
dimensions. It is not sure. however, that a primary element is essential
for the totality. A primary formal element . for instance, may result from
the imitation of a traditional motive which has no meaningful semantical
180
1 In other words. they belong to the
It is, in general. expedient
[0 determi ne t he tole of a role in lerm, of
the d iem produced when it is removed.
4 The irregular' intervals ' of c1 a,sical Greek
architecture are by-products, and do not need
interpretation.
relation to the other main dimensions. The summing-up of the analysis,
therefore, extracts the releoant from the preceding formal, technical,
and pragmatic analyses.
5
This does not imply that we have to correct the
results of our investigations, only that we characterize certain aspects as
by-products. Relevant aspects arc as bd llg semantically correlated
with aspects from the other main dimensions. ' An architectural totality
is determined by its relevant aspects. The first criterion for' architectural
quality' , therefore, is the relevance of the different aspects. A work
dominated by irrelevant aspects, has no inner coherence. It may, however,
sum satisfactory if one of the main dimensions is articulated; we are,
for instance, easily deceived by a perfect but irrelevant form.
7
The demand
for relevance means that the parts of the totality ought to be inter-
dependent. This is in accordance with the general need for order which
governs all human activities and products. We should therefore stress that
an architectural structure not only consists in an addition of articulated
main dimensions, but also in the co-ordination of these dimensions. The
ideal would be a structure where all components are relevant. When
analyzing a successful work of architecture, therefore, the results of the
different preliminary investigations are taken over unaltered by the
concluding definition of the architectural structure. If, instead. large parts
of these investigations fall away when summing up the results, a lack of
correlation between the dimensions is expressed. We should repear that
the relevance is a function of the totality. and not of the single dimensions.
Forms and technical elements which seem intelligible or meaningless
when seen in isolation, may find their clear justification within the
totality.
9
Architectural quality not only depends upon the relevance of the
components, but also upon their degree of articulation. A totality where
several inter-connected and articulated levels within each dimension are
fully co-ordinated, has a higher quality than a totality where relatively
inarticulate and separate levels are brought together. Just as the task and
the means exhibit a level-structure, the totality as such will consist of
levels possessing a varying degree of inner and mutual co-ordination.
1O
The demand for articulation, however. is not absolute, but changes in
character according to the architectural system. We may not, as a matter
84
90
It i. not 3lw3YS neu.",r)" to urr,' Ihrough
complete prclimin3ry
6 In other word adC<jU3tc semanncal re-
brion. m3ke the work of architecture become
alive.
7 The intention of irrcle"30t forms i. usu-
:lily called ' form3Iism' .
g Th e interdependence of t he P3rts implies
that lhe work of architecture has to be in-
undrd ,.. a totality. It cannot eomc into ex-
istence by ' aJding ' the conU' ibulions of tech-
nical specialim.
9 For insuncc the fictive orders of classical
3rehi=e. ""lIich Ue maning'e.. wilen
judged lechnie<llly. bU I highly wilen
understood 3Sparte of <In architectural tOl::l1ily.
!OTil" sasne Iorms can parti cipate on sev-
cral Incl. . StUi gbt lines and right :""gles
may be technically determined at lhe same
time t hey have a functional and symbulic
imporlance.
of course, compare works belonging to diOeu flt architectural systems
and indicate their relative quality. The quality, in general, can only be
defined within the architectural system. We may, however, compare the
possibilities for concretization (capacity) of the systems, and thus arrive
at a certain basis for a comparison of works belonging to different systems.
We have defined an ' architectural system' as a characteristic way of
organizing architectural totalities. An architectural system is determined
by the structure of the single dimensions, and by their semantical co-
ordination. The architectural system, therefore, has the same relation to
the single work as the style has to the single form. The architectural
system consists in co-ordinated classes of building tasks which arc con-
nected with a style and with a more or less limited technical system by
means of determined scmantical rules. It is described when all these
structural properties are indicated, that is, when its possibilities have been
investigated. It is convenient , however, to designate a system by referring
to its more conspicuous relevant aspects. Generally we characterize the
system by means of a relevant form, or also by a technical-formal structure.
This is usually possible, because most architectural systems have a limited
number of essential aspects which determine their capacity. II The in-
dividual work is characterized by its relationship to these essential aspects.
An essential aspect of a successful work is to be understood as a complex
of co-ordinated task- and means-structures. It can only be described,
however, by means of a ' dissecting ' analysis which indicates dimensions
and relations. But it can be named as a whole by introducing the ' quali-
tative ' concepts we have discussed above. A qualitative concept ought to
designate a complex and essential aspect of the architectur al totality.
We should only remember that it has to be defined in terms of the
analytical dimensions. For this reason it cannot be introduced directly,
but only in a final summing-up of the analytical results. Most of the
qualitative concepts used by present-day architectural theorists designate
a complex of spatial poles. This is obviously due to the great interest in
spatial problems in modern architecture, but we understand that quali-
tative concepts may just as well be defined in terms of other formal or
technical aspects." In general. we may say that no particular intentional
pole is necessary (absolute), and that the poles change in space and time.
182
11 Compare III, 3, neee 115.
12 We have seen that it is a simplification
to believe that a way of life above all mani
fests itself in the concepliofIJ of space and time.
A way of life can JUSt as well be represented
hy m 3 g ~ , poetic, or di fferent scientific ' ima-
g.s ' which also ccntribuee to the arcbitec!Unl
torality.
The number of possible poles is infinite, but they remain within determined
limits, and can be classified. H The architectural system is based upon
a selection of poles.
The appearance of a building is mostly determined by the use of
borrowed motives and solutions. H The genesis and development of archi-
tectural forms are therefore of the greatest interest. The question why
certain forms are accepted or rejected at certain rimes acquires central
importance. I' Forms are usually accepted or rejected because of their
meanings, even if practical considerations also play a certain role. The
tradi tional schemata may be analyzed in their original and in their actual
meaning, and we may also investigate their history' . The schemata
generally go through so man)' transformations that both their form and
content differ from the original intentions. Traditional schemata are 32
usually motives which are taken over and recomposed in new ways. 16 33
Thus the problem arises of transforming, combining and melting together
schemata. Often the different intentional poles are ' added' in a rather
loose way, but the tendency towards the ideal of an integrated intermediary
object seems to determine the direction of the development. " The
acceptance of traditional schemata implies that experiences are taken over
and exploited. Just as science aims at an ever greater clarification of its
concepts, architecture has to take advantage of the experiences of the
predecessors when defining and co-ordinating its tasks and means. Not
only the technical dimension should be the object of such an empirical
development. While science aims at objectivity, the 'experiences' of the
architect are only valid within a determined architectural system. That
is, the experiences are connected with a particular cultural situation. We
recognize, however, that many experiences are valid for several systems.
Architecture thus docs not strive for obj(cti!'( results, but its solutions
have a public value. They should satisfy common tasks with means which
are generally accessible to perception and participation. Especially import-
ant are the aspects which make the solution become a common symbol.
The demand for public value should not be misinterpreted as a demand
for self-evident , banal solutions. We should not shrink from asking
for solutions which may go against many individual wishes, if they help
the community. A building may also become a public symbol by being
IJ \Ve often hear lhat archile<:tUrc dema nd.
"unity", "r bythrn ", and' balance' . Thcu: eon
eept' do not denote intentional poles, but
npreS5 t hat we need ord. Sud t na tcment l
remain mere trui sms as long a, it i, not u-
plained how thi, order i, achieved.
14 The Use of borrowed forms , hould nol
be confused with a cop}"ing of the form. of
the J'3"t .
IS Sec Bandmann: .\l;ttdalter/,rhe Arrhirek'
IUr Pp- 7 !t
16 We mal' , for inltantt. lake oyer a build_
ing t ype bur " aI)' the detail, (c. g. the euly
Christian. Romano que. Gothic Of
....e mat- take over a motive and chang e its
me.ning (c. g. the dome).
17 ." , the outset of a sl)'listie devetopmem
clements (motives) arc u,u . lly
taken over and combined OIdditivd}". Gradu-
all) arc fused into a continuous whole.
Thi l proee.. is for inst:IIKe found in the HI;'_
Ii: deyelopment of Michelangelo. (See :-Jor-
hcrg.$(:hull.: . ..)_ For
exposfdon of rru, problem see A. E. Brind:_
mann : grouer .\{ri ft . Frank-
1925.
I.' Sor as dc-fence of the ruliog USle.
l _
accidentally connected with an historical occurrence. " We must repeat,
however, that architectural quality depends upon a correspondence between
meaning and form. 20
To conclude, we should repeat that an architectural totality consists
of poles from all the main dimensions. As an intermediary object the
work concretizes the pole-complex. The main dimensions have to be
semantically co-ordinated, in other words, forms and constructions acquire
meaning when being connected with a building task. 21 The term ' formal
language' expresses that the forms are given with meanings . If we combine
elements from a formal language (style) in a new way, we only create a
meaningful form if the combination fits an actual building task. The
semantical co-ordination depends upon the articulation of the dimensions,
in other words, articulation is essential to the architectural totality. The
scheme element-relation-structure is present at all architectural levels.
Semantically co-ordinated aspects are relevant, and determine the archi-
tectural totality. The structural analysis describes the structural properties
and indicates the relevant aspects. Architectural quality depends upon
relevance and articulation. Architectural systems are classes of architectural
totalities characterized by particular types of concretization. Architectural
history renders an account of totalities, systems and developments. History
describes analytically and can only use "qualititative" concepts to name
totalities and systems.
INTENTIONS IN ARCHITECTURE
The preceding remarks should be supplemented with a few words about
the more characteristic types of architectural totalities.
Firstly we should mention some cases of unsatisfactory solutions. If the
physical milieu or the economic conditions comprised in the building task
are one-sidedly emphasized, we may talk about ' vulgar-functionalism' ,
while solutions determined by the traditional and perhaps obsolete cliches
of the ruling taste could be called "romantic "." Architecture where the
formal dimension is unduly stressed, is ' formalistic' , a term which
implies that the forms are unsatisfactorily co-ordinated with the building
18
4
19 Such as the Bastille. or the birt hplaces of
great personalities.
20 How should we judge. the quality of "-
building like the Pcrzluncola? The chapel
was not made to manifest the personality or
teaching of St. Francis. but became accident-
ally connected with bim. This docs not mean
that it suddenly acquired architectural qualit y
when the connection was established. Its
quality is du e to the fact that it was fitted for
its new role, and that is also certainly the
reason why St . Francis loved the chapel
(see v. Mall &; Hauser : Francesco d' Assisi.
Padova 1952. pp. 58If.)
11 An epoch dies when these connection.
are destr oyed,
U Both teodencie$ are common today.
,
7
task; " If only the technical aspect is intended, we should talk about
' building' rather than ' architecture' .
When considering the totalities which exhibit a satisfactory co-ordina-
tion of the dimensions, it is convenient to take the building tasks as the
basis for a classification. This follows from the fact that the building
task is the point of departure for the architectural solution. While a
classification in terms of formal or technical factors would isolate archi-
tecture, a classification in terms of tasks unites the architectural totalities
to the form of life in general. An architecture which is determined by
the need for a physical milieu, may be called ' utilitarian', while an
architecture determined by the need for a symbol-milieu could be de-
nominated as monumental", 24 We also know totalities where both
intentions are equally important;" The distinction is valid at all levels of
planning, from the smallest artifact to the urbanistic whole.
In utilitarian architecture the physical control dominates in some cases,
in connection with relatively diffuse functions which only need a rather
schematic frame. At this lowest level, the task will only determine the
technical realization of the boundaries, and eventually the sizes of the
spaces. When the functions become more differentiated, the form and
topological distribution of the spaces also have to he considered. The
space-form, instead, is only prescribed by very special functions. Regular,
determined angles, for instance, arc rarely functionally necessary; rather
they are technically determined, or form a part of comprehensive formal
systems (styles) which can satisfy the higher aspects of the task. 26 Primitive
architecture is generally described by means of the topological schemata
which are common to the task-structure and the form. Some iconic or
conventional symbols, however, will usually enter the description, as
primitive architecture is rarely purely functional. These symbolizing
dements may have the character of decoration, or the formal structure
itself may be symbolizing. " In a society where the building tasks are
differentiated, one tends to distinguish between the purely utilitarian
and the symbolizing tasks. In Europe the farm-buildings and the urban 98
dwellings have traditionally a utilitarian character. As the basic way of
life has been relatively invariant throughout history, utilitarian architecture
acquired a rather constant character, only coloured' by varying needs
II A. a against rationalu.m of
euly funotionali sm, th e yeus :after the second
world war k en characterized by a
formalist atti tude.
Our c1 anifi cation is not new, but we
hope to have made it more precise by defining
the of phy.ical milieu aoo symbol-
milieu.
25 In primitive architecture the two inten-
tions are bardly
26 Determined :I.IIgla are alw introduced
<ria. artifacts such as closets, drawers, beds,
tables. :I.Dd chain. An:a.logously the form of
buildings ma y influence: the . !TUetUI"e oI the
urban units. 1D. general, the formal le.,.ds
ee-ordieated.
Xl When present-day architects search for
illspintion ill primioYe it often
happens on the basu; of the misunderstanding
tb.u primitin architecture is purdy function:a.I.
for physical cont rol (regional differences). The stylistic changes, instead,
were expressed on special buildings, and manifested changing formations
of religious, philosophical, and social objects. The dwelling thus only in
part records the changing aspects of society. Today the dwelling has
become a ' leading ' task, as modern individualism has induced man to
want his personal symbol-milieu. The problem is usually solved by a
'romantic ' imitation of motives." The modern dwelling, therefore, 99
reflects especially well the social and cultural chaos of our time. A fellow-
ship probably has to be expressed by means of a certain uniformalization
of the dwellings, while the individual house, ' tailored ' according to the
taste of the client, necessarily has a negative influence on the community.
A certain uniformalization of the dwellings to stress their utilitari an
character, only indirectly cxpresses the fellowship. The symbol-milieu
must find its direct expression in monumental architecture, that is, in
solutions which manifest the cultural values which are basic to the social
milieu. The symbol-milieu, as we have seen, is dependent upon a formal
symbol-system which is capable of representing social and cultur al struc-
tures iconically. We have also seen that an articulated architectural
symbol-system presupposes a certain geometrization, because the pregnancy
and adaptability of the elements are a function of their geometrical
properties. Whi le the functional situations possess a high degree of indivi-
duality and only to a limited extent contr ibute to the formation of types,
the symbol-milieu manifests the objects common to the individual
situations. A higher architectural structur e, therefore, normally represents
a particular symbol-milieu. A physical function can usually be satisfied
by many different means, but the symbol-milieu demands that we make
our choice between these means. 29. The symbol-milieu asks for the de-
vcloprnent of parti cular structures and types, which of course should not
be in conflict with the functional demands. 30 If this happens, we would
have to character ize the symbols as inconvenient or obsolete. In this way
the single functional situation is understood as a part of a wider socio-
cultural context. The works of monumental architecture, which concretize
the central poles of the symbol-milieu, have to possess the highest structural 57
pregnancy and art iculation within the architectural system. I I
186
2, The imitation of an old farm-h ouse ob-
viously is not det ermined by t he original
int entions. Instead , t he house ha' become the
manifestation nf a cultural object. In. other
words, certain forms from the pa' t have lost
their functional and iconic character, and
have become conventional sign' , Th i, process
is eharaeteri' tic of 'romantic' ~ r t .
29 The carly functionalist theory that the
house should fit the funct ions like a ' glove '
is therefore unsatisfactory .
30 See Bandmann : op. cit. , p. 58.
3l Alberti intuitively und erstood this when
he assigned the ' perfect' forms to tbe 'bigh_
e,t ' tasks.
,

From this it follows that an architectural system can be understood

as an ordered collection of architectural totalities. The totalities may be
classified and the classes described in terms of the dimensions of task and
means. An architectural system is characterized by the number and types
of tasks. It also comprises particular relations between the classes, such
as an hierarchical order or an 'addition ' of equalities. II We have already
mentioned that the differentiation of the building tasks was preceded by
a vague, magical totality. The differentiation, however, is of essential
importance for a developed culture, and we have seen that it is accom-
panied by a certain geometrization of the formal structures. The archi-
tectural system thus presents itself as a limited collection of architectural
totalities, where some playa ' leading ' role. Often a single task is leading,
and the development of the architectural system may be described by re-
ferring to this type alone. The building types of the architectural system are
not static, fixed totalities. Rather they should be characterized as a system
of probabilities, as a statistical ensemble analogous to the style. Th is implies
that the types possess possibilities for variation, in other words, the primary
poles essential to the type enter ever new phenomenal contexts according to
the situation. The architectural system, therefore, warrant s order as well
as variation. We have seen that order and variation belong together, as a
' variation ' which does not refer to an order is an arbitrary and mean-
ingless fancy which tends to destroy the existing architectural system.
An order which does not allow for variation, on the other hand, leads
to the mere repetition of known (banal) cliches. n Both the accidental
invention and the static order, therefore, have no information value.
Prolific architectural systems have to be based upon the formation of
correlated and variable building types. The single type acquires meaning
as a part of the architectural system, and the higher types therefore
enrich ' the lower ones. "
THE PURPOSE OF ARCHITECTURE
The purpose of architecture has been described extensively in the
chapter on the building task. We have to conclude with a few remarks
on its cultural role in general. We have seen that architecture has a
II In the European pa<t the tasks formNl a
hienrdly.
II The fir<! alternative char acterizes the
spontaneous ' sdf-c:rpression', and the second
academic' arrhitc<:{urc.
}o\ ~ III, 3, note n. A work of architecture
thus hu to belong to an architectural system
to acq uire the ,t:1tu. of a work of art ,
practical (instrumental) as well as an arusuc purpose. It concretizes a
complex of diverses poles where cultural objects (values) are comprised.
It is also artistic because it concretizes new intermediary objects which
react on society. Architecture, therefore, is both a practical ' tool' and a
symbol-system. We have tried to render an account of this state of affairs
by defining the dimensions essential to the architectural totality.35 That
architecture is instrumental and artistic, means that its purpose comprises
cognitive, cathectic, and evaluative components. It is not purely cognitive,
as it does not give us knowledge. and still it contributes to order our
environment. It is not purely cathectic, because it does not give us enter-
tainment. And still it is a source both of delight and discontent. It is not
evaluating because it does not establish rules for our conduct. And still it
manifests social and cultural norms. Architecture, at all events, is something
' more' than a purely practical tool, and this ' more' is essential to human
life. Architecture, therefore, forms an important part of our environment.
Architecture is explicitly a synthetic activity which has to adapt itself
to the form of life as a whole. This adaptation does not request that every
work should be related to the total whole. The individual work concretizes
secondary wholes, but because it belongs to an architectural system, it
participates in a complete concretization. New concretizations can neither
imitate the past, nor break completely with tradition. They are dependent
upon the existence of symbol-systems which are capable of development.
This implies that we should conserve the structural principles of tradition
rather than its motives. " The articulated form enables architecture to
transcend its purely practical aspect.37 In principle 'form' means an
adaptation to a wider context. The formless possesses no adaptability,
because it lacks definable properties. The form becomes more or less
complex according to the task, and a varying number of dimensions of
comparison have to be used for its description. We should repeat that
all the aspects of the task present themselves simultaneously." Even the
economic aspect should never be considered separately, as it so often is.
The economic judgement depends upon the satisfactory definition of the
building task. Only if the solution is a real one may we consider its
economic aspect. Today apparent solutions are often accepted, and used
as a dimension of comparison for more expensive but real ones.
188
35 Our theory is a meta-system', that is,
a language 10 talk about the 'architectural
language' .
36 The copying of the past usually consists
in the employment of ;rolaua motive..
37 This does not mean that t he practical
a' pect docs not request articulation.
38 We may rompare the _synthetic:ol char -
acter of architecture with that of biological
forms (sec C. H. Waddington: 'The C h ~ r _
acter of Biological Form', in Whyte: Aspu ts
of Porm, London 1951, p. 47). This doe. not
mean, however, that the architcctural form.
should r ~ u m h l ~ the forms of nature.
,
As the architectural solution is determined by poles taken from all
the basic classes of objects, architecture has remained synthetic throughout
history. 19 Only recently has one tried to specialize architecture by reducing
it to a mere practical activity. It is neither easy to understand nor to
practise a synthetic activity in a period of emphasized specialization. But
we have seen that synthetic concretizing activities are essential for inter-
action and cultural development. The fact that we want to preserve the
synthetical character of architecture does not mean that we should not
try to get a profound knowledge of its components. This knowledge
can only be acquired on the basis of an integrated theory of architecture.
When the knowledge has been supplemented with an adequate training
in creating and perceiving architecture. we may hope to reach our goal:
a more satisfactorily ordered environment.
r&)
39 It i! related to the myth . The myth,
however , has later become differentiated into
Kienee, religion, and art .
IV. Outlook
In the first part of the present study we put forward several questions
which the theory of architecture as such does not answer. The theory
renders an account of architecture as an object, but it does not explain
the experience of architecture, the production of works of architecture,
or the problems connected with the education of architects. The theory,
finally, does not treat of the more special problems of architectural
criticism and historical research, These: four fields are not comprised by
the theory, but fonn its most important applications. The theory thus
enables us to control our perceptions, and indicates how the relevant
intentional depth should be defined. It furthermore defines the factors
which determine the production of a work of architecture, and it makes
it possible to discover whether a particular solution is satisfactory. The
theory also offers a necessary basis for architectural research in pointing
out the problems and in ordering the results. Research without a theoretical
foundation is a blind activity, which at best leads to fragmentary know-
ledge. The theory, finally, indicates what the would-be architect should
learn, and organizes the individual subjects taught at the school of archi-
tecture into a whole, to the advantage of the student as well as the
professor. We have maintained that all these fiel ds today are characterized
by insecurity. This situation is probably permanent, because: of the ever-
increasing complexity of our form of life. A corresponding development
of the theoretical insight becomes necessary.
Our attempt at giving the outlines of an integrated theory of archi-
tecture, therefore, stems from practical problems, and we should render
a short account of its more important applications: experience, production,
analysis, and education. We do not pretend to solve the problems, only
to hint at their definition and to show how the theory may help us in
treating them.
'93
\_--------- - - - - - - - - --- - - -
1. Experience
We have ahead}' asserted that an investigation of the archi tectural
experience should not be confounded with an investigation of archi tecture
itself. I Architecture is described in terms of objects employi ng the di-
mensions of comparison indicated above. An account of the experi ence of
architecture, however, treats the question of how architecture, in the
widest sense of the word, is used ' . 1
In the chapter on perception we stressed the importance: of att aining
the relevant objects of the situation. An insufficient intent ional depth is
just as unfor tunate (dangerous) as the intent ion of a too distant pole.
Most buildi ngs part icipate in several situations. When we hurry to and
from our place of work, the buildings we pass by only form a relatively
neutral background. This does not mean that they are irrelevant, onl y
that we content ourselves with the perception of some of their properties.
Our attit ude becomes completel y di fferent when we part icipate in a situa-
tion into which the building enters actively. Again, as touri sts our attitude
differs from the ever yday one, and the archit ect and the layman natur ally
see' the buildings differently. In other words, we orient ourselves
accordi ng to the Aufgabe of the situation. Architectur al experience. there-
fore, is somethi ng changi ng and multifarious. But the term "archi-
tectural experience' is hardly used in this sense. Instead one imagi nes
the existence of one particular attitude which determi nes the ' real '
exper ience of architecture. This att itude is mostly defined as the intention
of the formal properties of the work of architecture. J We have already
rejected the ['Art pour fArt view, and should therefore ask whether it
makes any sense wha tsoever to talk about the ' real' experience of
architecture.
The building task comprises all the situations in which the build ing
has to partici pate. " The archi tectural totality, therefore, concretizes all
H) 5
I It must be dm thi, demand i,
of crucial import=tt if wanl to at
a fuller undtnlanding of our fid d.
2 Thi, ;, in .accordance with fact thai
' perception' does DOl mr:rn a p,...ive reception
of
J For Instance the spatial a' pe([S.
All siwarions' means public' situa
tions which make up the physical milieu and
the symbol-milieu.
the goal-objects of the ditTerent fragmentary experiences hint ed at above.
This means "that the experience of the architectural totality does not
correspond to any of the perceptions connected with the individual situa-
tions in which the work of architecture participates. It is natural to
define the ' real' architectural experience as the perception of the archi-
tectural totality, and we under stand that this experience is not connected
with any single situation, but demands a particular intention where the
work of architecture is understood as a total concretization, as a cultural
object. A real architectural attitude, therefore, is not directed towards
the individual instrumental or symbolic aspects of the work, but aims at
grasping it as a whole. Architectural experience, thus, should correspond
to the relevant description of the work in question. When perceiving
architecturally, it is important to intend the relevant totality, and many
misinterpretations stem from the intention of other structures than the one
which makes the work comprehensible. The experience of architecture,
therefore, should not be confused with the experience of single poles, be
they ' higher ' or ' lower ' ; it consists in the experience of a concretization,
and is as such a real artistic experience.
5
For the importance of this kind
of experience we refer to the section on ' Aesthetics' . But we should not
forget that daily life also demands more' practical ' attitudes to the archi-
tectural environment.
6
When we use the term ' intentional depth' in connection with archi-
tecture, we consider the relevant structure to be the goal of perception.
Evidently, a correct intention (attitude) does not come by itself. It implies
that we are able to structure the situation formall y, and that we perceive
the forms semantically connected with contents. Put in psychological
terms, we have to possess schemata which correspond to the structure of
the work. Most human beings possess several schemata related to archi-
tecture, such as the general topological and geometrical schemata described
by Piaget. But experience shows that this is not enough, or rather , hardly
anybody is able to apply these schemata when perceiving architecture.
Although most persons react negatively to disorder, " their experience
of architecture is based upon special schemata which consist in looking
for the forms they are used to see. This is in accordance with the fact
that we only perceive what we expect to see. As most human beings grow
19
6
5 Kant chwscterieed the artistic experience
as 'disinterested ' . We may interpret this as
the intention of an intermediary object. rather
than a particular pur e object. This dOl" not
imply that the artistic experience is det ached
from real life.
6 The experiment of :\ta,low and Mintz.
however, shows that architecture inAuenccs
us also when it only serves as a "necc al '
background.
7 Compare Maslow and Mintz: op. cit.
up surrounded by works of architecture, we can infer that they generally
possess such schemata, We may characterize these schemata as prejudices,
because they refer to known motives rather than general principles or
structures. a A particular type of prejudice consists in applying such
fragmentary schemata to the architecture of other times and places. The
naive assumption that our fragmentary schemata mediate an adequate
perception of any work of architecture is normal. Most persons are ready
to characterize any building as 'ugly' or ' preny' . Such criticisms reflect
a very superficial perception, " Also, if we assimilate to a certain extent
the style dominating our daily environment , our perception of other styles
will be unsatisfactory.lo In general, therefore, the experience of archi-
tecture has to be based upon training. As there is no basic difference
between the spontaneous acquisition of schemata when growing up, and
a more direct education as adults, this demand has nothing unnatural
to it, ' To learn to see' , therefore, aims at understanding a formal
language, The basic point is the fact that we can only perceive order,
and that the schemata which make this possible are not given a priori
but have to be acquired. We must learn to organize a situation formally,
and we must learn the meanings of the forms. These two aspects, however,
can to a certain extent be kept apart. This is also the case when we learn
a language, and give separate attention to the problem of grammar ' and
' vocabulary' . II The education may be based upon direct information, as
well as upon training in 'using' architecture. To escape the formation of
prejudices, it is important that the architectural education accompanies
the general education. As architecture forms an essential part of our envi-
ronment it seems reasonable to request that 'architectural appreciation '
should be taught in the primary school. Il The existing surrounding help
the development of articulated perceptual schemata, and it is therefore also
very important to grow up in an architecturally ordered environment. B
A particular problem in connection with the experience of architecture
is the changing behaviour demanded from the beholder. We have men-
tioned that an architectural structure demands particular View-points to
become intelligible, A symmetrically organized succession of spaces is only
perceived adequately if we move along its axis, while the centr alized space
of the Renaissance should be experienced by placing ourselves in its centre.
'97
62
68
I As we b,k psy,holog;ul experiments OR
architect ural paeepcion, w e canner discuss
tbest problems in further <'!et:a il.
9 Ter ms like ' ugl y' :and 'prctty' designate
diffuse exper iences.
10 Compm: }okra', exposition of musical
(EmoJio" ""J Mt "" j"l .. . p. 43).
II The geneul principles upon which the
concept of order is basM m:ay also be: ,t udi fi:l
iDdependendy of a particular formal bngu:age
(' 1)st ern theorr ').
12 It m:ay !.C'Cm pretentious [0 suggest such
a new subject. 'Archilcetur:al :apprtciation'.
of course, should form :a p"rt of a more
artist ic educ.:ltion whtre t heory, his-
1OI'y, and exercises arc combined. Rather t han
being pretentious, this demand is of e1scntial
importance 10 the developme nt of more ' com-
plcre' person. (See H . Read: 01'. cir.).
13 This i, certainly the reason for the Ira
dirionally good 13Ste of th e It alian"
In general, the view-points are a function of the constancy phenomena.
They give an adequat e perception as long as the Gestalt constancy is
maintained. The symmetrical succession and the centralized space, there-
fore, admit certain deviations from the ' ideal ' view-points and movements,
whereas other deviations would lead to an unsatisfactory (wrong) per-
cepdon. " A complex architectural organi sm can only be experienced
through a movement where the succession of perceptions becomes organized
mentally into a total experience. 15 In this case the perception does not only
consist in the visual impression at any single moment, but is determined
by our knowledge of the presence of certain forms. 16
\ve have already asked whether a complex mathematical order may
be perceived, and have asserted that perception rather grasps the archi tec-
tural Cestalten than the' invisible' numerical relations. When perceiving
a repetition of similarities in depth, we perceive the foreshortenings as
such, because we assume that the repetition is uniform (' projection con-
stalKY . This illustrates the fact that an irregular structure escapes a satis-
factory perception, and it also explains why a physically constructed fore-
shortening has such a strong visual effect. Ii The fundamental role of the
constancy phenomena in perception means that we should not attach too
much importance to the so-called ' optical refinements '. Much has been
written on the less evident optical illusions, such as slightly curved lines
looking straight and vice versa, and the curved lines of Greek temples
have been explained as an attempt to counteract such illusions. l S As the
principle of form-constancy makes us disposed in any case to overlook
the deformations of the general form through illumination, proportional
context, colour, ctc., the theories of ' optical refinements ' have to be
considered rather far-fetched. 19 We also experience a building as the same
regardless of the weather, although a particular illumination may em-
phasize its structur e. 20
Summing up, we should stress that the architectural experience aims
at grasping the architectural totality as an intermediary object. But the
experience often has to be built up through a succession of perceptions,
helped by our knowledge. The perception of architecture is usually defec-
tive, because most persons onl y possess unsatisfactorily developed perceptual
schemata. " The effect intended by the architect therefore generally fails
19
8
U Formal structur cs including optical iJlu-
s;ons particularly dependent upon
scribed view-points.
15 Thi, should not be confounded with
Frey', di,tinc tion ' simultaneous' and
"successive.' struct ures. A simulta-
neous ,l ructure may thaI the heholder
move" while a ,imple succession can be
perienced from one position. This, again,
shows thaI il is to dislinguish be-
tween Obje<;l and
16 do nol experience a building or a
s'Juan as an isolated but as a
part of a comprehemive urban organi, m. This
organi sm 'colour, ' perception of the parts.
Ii For imlance the stage in Palladia' , Tea-
tto Olimpico, or colonnade by Borromini
in Palazzo Spada.
J8 Cornell: op. cir., p. 3t and note 3,
eh. 5 with bibliography. AIS<) P. A. Micheli"
- Ret mements in Architecture ", fAAC, Vol.
XVL , xc. 1, t955.
t9 idea ,tem, from lhe I ' Art pour /"Art
of the nineteenth The archi-
tectum; structure usually requires that we
leave out many
20 That the structure is empha' izcd doc,
nor imply that it changes. For a di"msion
of ,t yle and illumination sec C. Norberg-
Schulz : ' Arkitektur gjennom kameraiiyet ',
Byggekunst, 1959.
21 layman, therefore, rarely sees the
difference between an im!ation and a
decoration with borrowed motives.
to appear. This, of course, does not imply that we should give up genuine
architecture. The building tasks, as we have seen, are determi ned by
factors which transcend the individual's wishes, and they have to be solved
even if the solutions are misunderstood and misjudged. If not, serious
social and cultural problems result. Our investigation shows that we do
not solve these problems when following the ruling taste. and that the
building tasks instead have to be defined on an objective basis and solved
with relevant means. To enable the architects to do this, the public should
givc up its naive belief in the ruling taste. Thi s presupposes a training in
looking at architecture. " Some architectural totalities are easily perceived,
while others request a close study and thorough training.
2J
It is especially
difficult to understand ' complex works from other cultures. Naive real-
ism assumes that we can experience spontaneously works of art from
any epoch, but a controlling analysis would show that the experience'
generally consists in a reading of our own intentional poles into totalities
where they do ncr belong. " We should therefore be more caut ious when
judging works of architecture from other periods. Architectural history,
accordingly, only rarely has the courage to regard its results as secure. 1'5
Finall y we should stress that an intention of the relevant structure implies
that we must leave out perceptually many secondary intermediate objects,
such as optical illusions. We have reason to assert that the optical corrections
should rather be understood as deviations from the stylistic norm. u;
The psychology of perception tells us that things have to possess a clear
order to be active, and that the architect should form his buildings in
such a way that the perception does not become too difficult.
199
II To learn to sec means to acquire the
understanding of a slyle and its uses.
B The same holds true for pera:i ving
music. A full understanding presupposes thai
~ i m p l e and complex forms arc cxpc:rienrnd
relative to each other. that ii , that we know
t he common style Ihey belong to.
24 Foreign polC'l enter the coherena: -systan.
2S This, however, d ocs nO! mean that it is
impouib/e 10 arrive at valid analyses and
perceptio ns. It is :I miscon<rplio n 10 belie ve
that the i nterpretation of the past has to be
changing..... ny product h:ll owe tletem,iwl!tl
releva nt structure which in principle can be
described. Our preference. , however, may of
course change. Gcnaally ....e prder the works
which have an affinity with our own prob-
lems.
:6 Th is ir ucrpreta oc n integrates the irregu-
bri tiC'l' in the relevant structure,
2. Production
When solving concrete buildingtasks the architect employs methods which
necessarily have a theoretical foundation. Any method is based upon as-
sumptions about the character of the field where it is applied. The architect
has to solve tasks through formal and technical means, and he ought to
possess the theoretical insight which enables him to define the tasks pre-
cisely and to find the corresponding means. The main reason for the
architectural chaos of our time, therefore, is the architects' and clients'
lack of theoretical understanding. The client should know enough not to
insist upon meaningless demands, while the architect as a specialist has
to know the whole range: of the problems. We should immediately stress,
however, that the production of architecture cannot happen as a logical
combination of the components indicated by the theoretical analysis of
the task and the means. As a concretization the production of architecture
is dependent upon a unifying creative process where the single components
are usually transformed by the total context. We have rendered an account
of this creative process above. The procedure cannot be learned logically,
but has to be acquired through exercises. I This , however, does not imply
that analytic methods arc unnecessary. The creative procedure obviously
needs a material, and It is essential that this consists of analytically defined
factors, rather than favourite motives or vague ideas about the character
of the task.
Production aims at creating an ordered physical milieu and a mean-
ingful symbol-milieu. We usually sum up these aspects in the expression
visual order ' . By this term, therefore, we do not only intend a purely
formal order, but rather the use of mcaningjul forms. The slogan ' design
for life' covers the same intent ion.
2
The demand for order contrasts with
the present-day contempt for form . This tendency is explicit everywhere.
201
I 10 the lUi chapter we will Ilium how
lhit ean be done.
2 The dOlan was coined when lhe Bauhaut
ideas were inl rodU<X<l in the United Slain
(See L. Moholy-Nagy: Visu", j " Malion .
Chieago 1 9 ~ 7 ) '
\Ve walk, stand, and sit "informally", we dress in a ' sporty' way, we
do not greet each other any longer, and we eat standing at a snack-bar,
Our language has to be popular and easily understood rather than stringent
and articulated. Our entertainment should be absorbed without effort,
and it therefore uses the most banal cliches. Art has become a spontaneous
self-expression', and religion a diffuse personal experience. The education
of children is also made ' free' , and the schools abandon tests and examina-
tions. The present study shows the fundamental misunderstanding behind
these tendencies. Human values can only be preserved and mediated by
means of symbolic forms, and the basic factors of a civilization require the
most articulated symbols. Reactions against the present formless freedom"
start to appear; J not least is the lack of visual order subject to frequent
criticism.
To create visual order we need a suitable method for production, which
has to be based upon an integrated theory of architecture. The theory
helps us to define and classify the central tasks of the period, to classify
the means, and to indicate the correspondences between the two. The
method, therefore, should integrate theory and practice by co-ordinating
the different factors, instead of developing forms which cannot be built,
or technical structures which serve no purpose. The method shuns forms
which are added 'afterwards ' to give the solution the status of "archi-
tecture', and does not recognize any preconceived ideas about how the
result should be. It only admits a definition of the problem on an objective
basis, and a following' translation' in terms of corresponding means. The
method presupposes an understanding of the architectural totality. " The
theory shows that the totality can be split into dimensions which to a
certain extent are investigated independently. The dimensions are not
arbitrarily chosen, and they must be correlated. It would carry us too far
to treat the production methods in further detail. We should only consider
some special aspects of the problem and also give a brief account of the
actual situation from which the present study stems.
When producing, the architect encounters two secondary problems.
Firstly he needs auxiliary 'tools' to present his ideas, and secondly he has
to some to an understanding with the other persons who are interested
202
J It i, rharactcristic that juvenik a i m i n ~ l s
complain "bout a "'rk of clear ..alue1 and
roles put forward by parents and society.
4 As early ~ s 1391 jean Mignot said : Ars
sine scicnti.. nihil nt.
,
in the solution of the building task in question. We here think of the
client as well as the team' of specialists which makes the realization of
the project possible.
The architects' auxiliary tools are much better today than in the past.
Not only is it possible to carry out drawi ngs and models in a technically
better way; but his new tools also allow for a new formal freedom.' At the
same time statistical and analytical methods enable him to investigate the
aspects of a building task in an exact way, and mathematical calculation
warrants the correctness of the technical execution and the satisfaction of
the desired physical control. It is important to mention these trivial matters,
because so many architects still work in a purely intuitive \..-ay in the fear
of not being suffi ciently artistic '. The complexity of the architectural
totality requires exact methods, but we should again remember that certain
decisive steps in the production process are impossible without the faculty
of intuitive concretization. The exact methods define the single aspects of
the totality. As a concreti zation the totality is only present in the finished
work, but it can be represented in different ways. Such representations
are never very satisfactory, as most people lack the ability to < read' draw-
ings and models. (; The problem has a certain analogy with the reading
of printed language, musical scores, or diagrams. " In all cases we try to
represent a structure in another medium. I A superficial attitude is there-
fore manifested when the layman wants to give a spontaneous judgement
of architectural drawings, models, or photographs. Training is necessary,
and we encounter again the need for a general education in the appre-
ciation of architecture.
The architect has always played the role of co-ordinator ' for the
persons interested in the solution of a building task. He should not only
co-ordinate the specialists involved in the planning and realization of the
building task, but should also adapt the needs of the client to the existing
architectural system. and thereby integrate the task in a wider context.
Architectural theory shows that the architects would fail if they became
victims of a one-sided specialization. The real task of the architect consists
in the unification of several factors taken from different fiel ds. Today these
fields are so complex that he cannot master them all, but has to make
use of information from and collaboration with different specialists. This
23
71
5 In palt .. compliCJted building.
with"uI "'ris:letory dra.... ings.
This was because "f the repetitio n of
a module and the employment of moo rules
of proport ion. The><:: pracric:>.1 tool, inAumcrd
the formal structure and acquired the n.:llu,
of rule'!. II i< all analogous phen<>-
menon when today assign the te.::hniea\
sj'stems an aesthetic function. For the archi.
teetural praeliee of the past sec A. Grote:
Da "olkommrll Architecluf, :\f unehen 1959.
(; Kot only because drawings and model.
arc abn ran ion' . but because the layman is
onl}' ablc tc perceive the finished building
un",tisfxtoril y.
7 Bruno Zevi diKUSSCS the problemin S<lprr
"rdrre l'ardiUllurll (PI'. 3511.). He is corrro:
in asserti ng that writing better represents a
literary work. the coloured reproduction a
paint ing, and t he a musical composit ion,
than plans and sections represent a building.
We find . however , that exaggerates the
problem, al the ability to "read ' architectural
c1r.l wings may become highly devclopM. We
should also remember iliat it is still harder
to learn to read a musical KOtC.
I Thc perspective dr awing " 'as taken into
usc duri ng the Renoi""'lItt, while the Gothic
build= ...ed Ihe orthogonal projettion (See
W. Lot:<: Raumbild i n der Jtalicni5Chen
Architecktur:<ekhnung der in
drl lnniuat
in Florcnz , July 1956). reason certainly
is lhat Renaissance artins conceived spa<e
a' organ iud relat ive to determined view.
points. The pell pcetive drawing, Iherd ore,
represented a particul ar form:!.1 Intention.
Later it has become ru,vaIuat! and is used
10 bluff the public by reprnentat ions of
xcidentaI pi<: Nr C>quc mocivn. II issymp-
lomooc that most programmn of arehitceturaI
compcritionl still ask for free ' perspective
dra wing, of the project.

collaboration presupposes a convenient theoretical subdivision of the archi-

tectural totality, to allow for the isolation and co-ordination of dearly
defined factors. The modern demand for ' team-work ' . therefore, pre-
supposes the existence of an integrated theory of architecture. The different
specialists are only concerned with fragments of the building task or the
means to their solution. The creation of architectural totalities thus tran-
scends the competence of the engineer and the technical specialist. The
architectural concretization comprises, as we have seen, all the aspects of
the' building, and has to be carried out by an architect trained in synthetic
production.
9
In principle it is impossible for the architect to satisfy the wishes of
the client directly. He always has to make use of means which are beyond
the understanding of the client, and he also has to integrate the building
task in a functional-social context which only in part concerns the client.
It is therefore a misconception to say that the task of the architect is to
satisfy client. We should instead define his task as integration of
the in a iohole. This implies that he has to give a more
broad and precise definition of the task and the means than the client
himself is capable of. III This is only possible on the basis of an integrated
theory of architecture;" The confidence needed from the public must be
developed through training in architectural appreciation ' . Both parti es
have to base their attitude on a theoretical understanding of the common
goals. The public and the architects share the responsibility for the present
visual chaos. The public usually defines the building tasks on the basis of
narrow and short-term interests, and discovers too late that the wishes of 99
one person kill those of the other. The architects, for their part , show a 2
lack of respect for their own field and indulge in an arbitrary play with 4
forms without the necessary understanding of the building task, of the
means, and the planning hierarchies. The visual chaos proves sufficiently
well that the architects must basically reorganize their field, and that they
must demand more from themselves. The architect must understand that
his responsibility transcends the satisfaction of the individual client. The
functional and symbolic order he should create does not allow the tasks
to be seen in isolation.
20
4
9 We may in this context menrion the
meaningless profession of the interior deco-
rator . The imeriot- evidentl y if a primny
aspt of me archile.ctural totality. It theeefcee
acceuaril,. beJollgs directlj- 10 the task of the
architect. The possibilty for team-work does
nor exist, "" team_work has to be ba=i upon
a diviJion of the archirecrur;L! tc-
lalily. Th" division i n exterior and interior
is nor in this context. What w:
need arc ' d esign ers' who create artifacts which
the ardl ilCCl may cboose between. (See C.
Norberg-Schulz: in 8c"'111
' 957)-
10 If me dian had been capable of doi ng
Ihis. he would have been an archuect.
II Th e sam" holds true: Eor the working
out of programmes for architectural compe-
titions.
We have several times hinted at the confused present situation of archi-
tecture. In the following we will give a brief account of the more charac-
teristic problems and tendencies.
The new technical possibilities have been of essential importance to the
development of a new attitude to architecture. Materials like cast iron,
steel, reinforced concrete and glass, led to the development of the skeleton
construction, which forms the great innovation of the nineteenth century.
The skeleton construction made the plan ' free' and allowed for the realiza-
tion of enormous continuous spaces, as well as very tall buildings. The
facades were transformed into a transparent, weightless skin. '! The Crystal
Palace in London (ISsI) realized these possibilities and also showed the
advantages of prefabrication and montage. At the same time a new formal
coherence came to replace the classical ideal of balancing the parts in such
a way that ' nothing could be added or taken away without destroying
the harmony. ' In the Crystal Palace, instead, it was possible to imagine
a formal addition or substraction because of the coherence created by means
of repeating the same pregnant technical system throughout. A new open,
flexible, or ' incomplete' (but satisfactory) form was created. IJ In this way
the new technical possibilities set architecture free to frame new functions
and forms of life.
In the nineteen-twenties the interest shifted from the technical to the
functional and formal dimensions. Cubism had introduced a new type of
aesthetics. [ ts juxtapositions of interpenetrating, coloured planes had a very
inspiring effect on the architects. This formal attitude was a strength as
well as a weakness. The danger of a degeneration into formalistic play
often became reality. But it was of essential importance that the architects
became aware of the formal functions of coloured and textured surfaces,
and that the interest in free space compositions was awakened. In this
way formal elements were developed, capable of adaptation to varying
functions and psychological needs. The formal experiments led to a new
conception of the building. It lost its traditional character of a closed mass,
and became instead an ordered juxtaposition of functionally determined
surfaces (slabs) in a continuous space. 14
After 1945 the situation has become more confused. The modern move-
ment no longer has the unified character of the ' twenties. Its unsolved
25
100
3
70
12 Gitdion: in Leipzig!
Berlin 1928.
13 Norberg-Schulz: "Husbyggiog mtd ItJ I-
skjelett '
14 FOC' instance Mia "an der hooM:
for the Berlin exbibiricn in ' 911.
problems led to a dissatisfaction which produced a certain reaction in the
years immediately after the second world war. But the reaction led no-
where. Most of its attempts were accidental improvisations without con-
nection with the actual problems, and only satisfied short-dated sentimental
needs. Both the Scandinavian empiricism ' and the Swiss -Heimatstil '
were episodes without possibilities for development and growth. The archi-
tects regarding themselves as belonging to the modern movement, however,
also express fundamental differences of opinion. Two basic creeds dominate
the situation: the 'organic ' , represented by architects as different as Wright
and Aalto, and the ' technological' , represented by Mies van der Rohe.
The latter continue the tecnical tradition of the nineteenth century, while
the former find this approach ' sterile ' and inhuman. The ' technological'
architects, for their part , only see chaos and subjectivism in the' organic'
products. 15,
Most of modern archi tecture suffers from an inner contradiction as it
is still' composed' according to obsolete ideas like proportion and balance.
The free plan, however, requires flexibility. In other words, it does not
admit any fixed 'balancing' of the parts. We have seen that this problem
was solved in the Cr ystal Palace. The insight offered by such examples
leads to the programmatic abolishment of all absolute forms. At the same
time we understand that a new kind of coherence is possible, a coherence
which is not founded on ' eternal ' rules of harmony. Instead, a basic for-
mative princi ple is repeated throughout the structure. Paradoxically we
realize that only a clear structure offers freedom. The goal is a multitude of
possibilities formed by means of a determined principle. 16 The problem,
thus, is to unify the ' organic ' and the 'technological' tendencies. The
freedom of the 'organic ' forms, their richness of expression and adapt-
ability to different situations only become real through a combination with
the clear construction of technological architecture. In this way modern
architecture may fulfil its own promises, the tradition of the last 15 0 years.
The modern movement is the only t rue tradition of the present because
it under stands that historical continuity does not mean borrowed motives
and ideals, but human values which have to be conquered in always new
ways. 17
206
101
100
102
15 We here have in mind the work of
the followcrs, rat her than of the pioneers
of ' organic' architecture. Compare m, 3,
note t02.
16 We have already proved that propor-
tional systems, such as Le Corbusier's Mo-
dulor. do not satisfy thi , demand.
17 See Ill . 3 , note 122.
It is not enough, however, to ask for an integration of the ' organic'
and ' technological ' tendencies. An architecture where free plans are or-
dered by a clear construction does not necessarily warrant the desired
visual order. It is just as important that every building (xprus(s its char-
acter, In t1H= present situation we can hardly distinguish between a church
and a garage. Evidently this is not mainly due to defective single buildings,
but above all to the lack of distinct building typn II The different building
tasks can be classified according to common properties (such as their degree
of flexibility). The classes have to be correlated with building types capab/(
of variation, where technical systems play a formative role. 19 Onl y in this
way can the demand for standardization and industrialization be satisfied,
at the same time as we acquire a diDu ( ntiat( d visual order; " The devalu-
ation of the modern forms which has taken place after the war is also
counteracted. The modern forms have developed through experimentation
and the fight against borrowed motives. But they have never been ordered,
they have never become a real formal languag( . This is the basic problem
that the present generation of modem architects has to face; " and it can
only be solved through the formation of types. The types must be in-
terrclated in such a way that they form a hierarchy corresponding to
the task-structure.
20
7
102
n .-\rchitectura l histor)' ,hows that the de-
velopment of types is essential to the archi -
tectur al system.
19 The t;dtnicaJ. system must above all take
the varying demands for flexibility into COD
. ideration.
:!O Staooardil-2tion i . not a new demand .
It has, however. Irc:orne problematic because
of the anarchic subjectivism of the nineteenth
century.
21 Today the pioneers are old. They o ~ n e d
up fundamental new possibilities and have
managed to keep up with t he development .
The following geDeratiOIl did not give a simi
lar contr ibution. It i. a well-known bet that
what i. new needs rime to penetrate, or
rat her, the ideas of the piODI"S are tested,
d ~ e d , and led into many blind aJleys be-
fore a third ' generation acquires the general
understa nding which is needed to carry on
the bask trends of the DeW tradi tion.
l _
3. Analysis
The concept ' architectural analysis' comprises several investigations which
do not belong to the architectural theory proper. We may study particular
building tasks, as well as means and ready solutions. The investigation
of tasks and means serves the production of works of architectur e, while
the study of already existing solutions is an historical discipline. All types
of investigation presuppose a comprehensive archite ctur al theory. We have
shown that any analysis is impossible without theoretically determined
dimensions of comparison. At the same time, however, we have requested
that the dimensions should have the character of empirical generalizations.
Thi s means that the analysis uses the theory, while the theory, in turn, is
developed through analytical insight . Theory and analysis, therefore, recip-
rocally correct each other, applying the method of 'successive apprcxi-
marion ". The type of analysis which contributes to the theoretical forma-
tion is mainly the study of existing works of architecture. Architectural
theory thus abstracts from architectural history. An integrated theory needs
an historical basis. As the analysis of tasks and means a theory,
we can infer that historical insight is essential to the solution of actual
building taks. I The investigations which directly serve the solution of
concrete tasks may be called research, while the analysis of existing solutions
is designated as architectural history. In addition, we will introduce archi-
tectural criticism as a separate discipline. Rather than explain an historical
development, the criticism has to decide whether an actual solution solves
the task in question.
2
All three disciplines employ the theory to analyse
tasks, means and their relations. Research is naturally mainly concerned
with the tasks and the means as such, but also introduces experiment s to
discover whether supposedly correct solutions are really satisfactory. History
I We do not imply that individual
rising architect has to this insight. only
that he should have analytic>l tools at his
di spot.al which on an
historical basis.
2 Archit CClural criticism thus form s a pari
of architectural hi,tory.
indicates the intentional poles behind the existing solution, while criticism
investigates whether the task has been defined adequately, and if it has
found a semantically valid realization.
RESEARCH
Architectural research may, according to the theory, be divided into task-
research, form-research, and technical research. We have already shown
that the three branches are interdependent. The problems within one
branch influence the others, and they ought to be studied with the aid of
frequent cross-references. Such integrated architectural research is so far
hardl y existing, both because of the lack of a theoretical foundation, and
because existing research specializes on technical problems," We will there-
fore indicate some of the problems which seem basic within each branch.
The task-research should render an account of the components of con-
crete building tasks, and should integrate these as outlined in the section
on ' the building task as a whole' . The goal of task-research is to arrive
at a basis for the definition of building programmes. In te past the building
tasks were given as relatively fixed parts of the cultural tradition. Archi-
tectural history shows that the tasks were not defined in terms of physical
control or physical functions alone, but had the character of total problems.
This ' qualitative ' or synthetic interpretation of the tasks has been destroyed
by the pseudo-analytical attitude which has come to dominate today. The
physical objects are more easily accessible to scientific analysis, while the
information we need to approach the symbol-milieu is still only in part
available.
4
Today, however, we may again start to aim at the definition
of total synthetic tasks. Instead of grasping them intuitively, theoretically
aided analysis offers an objective basis. This is needed, as the tasks have
become ever more complex and varied. In the present situation it is of
the greatest importance to restore the symbol-milieu, and task research
therefore has to concentrate upon the psychological, social, and cultural
problems connected with the organization of our environment. We have
already mentioned several studies which give interesting contributions.
5
The investigation of the symbol-milieu should be correlated with the study
of architectural form. It is very important, for instance, to render an
account of the capacity of particular formal structures. The form-research,
210
3 It ,eem, that Ihi, i, done on the basi. of
the a" umpt ion that the technical problem,
can be isolated, and that it is possible to g;ye
architecture an objectiye technical foundat ion.
1 We start , however, to grasp the general
character of the problem.
5 Such a, the cXperimClIl, of Maslow and
Mintz and the ecological research reprc, ellled
in Scandi navia hy Gregor Paulsson.
therefore, should describe the ' effects' which result from the variation of
space-form, materials, dimensions, illumination, etc. Such investigations
are preferably carried out at a school of architecture, which has at its
disposal architects, as well as psychologists, sociologists, and technical
specialists who can plan the research and co-ordinate the results," The
first practical ' tool' needed is a very large room where full-scale models
of ' abstract ' architecture can be built. Such models should be made of
standardized elements which allow for flexibility and change. The study
of the symbol-milieu may also take advantage of the insight into the
relations between task and form offered by architectural history. To plan
the experiments and interpret the historical material, information from
auxiliary sciences such as psychology and sociology is needed.
An independent investigation of formal problems consists in the study
of the combination of elements to form Gestalten with defined properties.
Furthermore one has to describe the probability-structure and possibilities
for variation of styles. These investigations may also employ full-scale
models, but visual experiments as known from experimental psychology,
graphical representations and small-scale models are more useful. When
investigating forms and their milieu-function, it is convenient to vary one
aspect at a time, while holding the others constant. In this way a full
understanding of the role of the single factors becomes possible. To define
primary and secondary parts, it is practical to indicate what can be taken
away without destroying the whole.
7
The form-research also has to utilize
the infinitely rich material offered by architectural history, not only to
supplement the ' laboratory' experiments, but also to help in planning
the latter ones more conveniently.
It would carry us too far to treat the technical research in further
detail. We only want to stress that the system- aspect ought to be given
more attention that has been the case so far.
HISTORY
When developing our theory of architecture we mainly considered the
individual work of architecture. The individual work, however, has to
be seen in an historical context to be full y understood. The historical
6 We could 'p"ei.ol in.titute.
for
'7 Jorgensen, .. , p. 'ft.
context, on the other hand, results from knowledge about single works .
Generalizations made when analyzing a limited number of works are
applied to other cases and may in this way be revised and refined. We
therefore have to do with three interdependent constructs; the description
of the single work, the historical development , and the architectural theory.
A developed theory enables us to penetrate into the individual work as
well as the historical context. The analysis of the single work consists in
the indication of its intenti onal poles and architectural quality, and in
determining its historical position. The intentional poles arc not only
formal, but also pragrnatical and semantical.
The analysis has to be aided by several special investigations. Firstly,
it is often necessary to know how the work was carried out from the
moment the commission was given, through the planning of the architect,
to the finished realization. Secondly, it is important to possess a chronology
of related monuments, where the work in question can be put in its proper
place. Such a chronology should be something more than a mere series
of dates. So far the dates have been supplemented with the history of styles
and the history of technics. Theoretical insight enables us to develop these
histories in a more precise way, at the same time as it indicates the need
for a history of building tasks, a history of semantical relations, and a
history of architectural systems. Architectural history, however, is not the
history of the archi tects. " The monographical treatment of an architect
only functions as a convenient summing-up of certain historical pheno-
mena. Rarely, however, does it grasp the essential historical conditions.
9
The history of the realization of the individual work has to be recon-
structed on the basis of documents, preserved drawi ngs, and archaeological
investigation. Among the aims of the last-mentioned is to find out if one part
was made before or after another one. It presupposes technical and formal
insight. 10 The history of the singl e work may be controlled and revised
by means of an analysis of its structural properties. A reconstruction of
the original or intended state is done on the same basis. In general it is
necessary to reconstruct the intended solution in order to be able to carry
through a meaningful analysis.
A chronology of monuments should not only consist of a collection
of dated works, but should also compr ise surveys and other reproductions
2 12
g We have mentioned that several -l eading
art historians have seen their main task as
the development of ' basic' stylist ic concepu.
This has often led to a neglect of the indi-
vidual work of an. Reacting against this ten-
dency, Zevi defines architectural history as a
series of individual analyses and monogr aphs
on archit ects. This, however, is to go too hr
in t he opposite direct ion. as the individual
analyse, presuppose the historical constructs.
(See Zevi; ' il,rchi rett ura ' , in Encidopdia
Unioersale dd/' Arl() . For a , urvey of "the
methods used in art history sce G. Pauls'on :
Ko,mhistoriu u For(m M, Upp, ala ' 943.
9 This only happens if the architect in
que' tion playcd a leading role 1lI his t imc.
10 Roman architectul e offers a f"'nicula r
clue t o the dating of the monument', t he
brick ,tamp', Kahler (Hadrian und seine
Villa) to a large extent bases his chronology
on these.
(photographs ctc.). The chronology is a necessary aid to historical research,
but it does not offer any secure picture of the historical process, as related
phenomena may appear at diDert nt times in different places. 11
The history of styles has to render an account of the development and
succession of formal structures. It docs not only order the styles chronolo-
gically, but tries to show how they arise: and become ' worn out' . Periods
of transition will be of special interest. 12 The history of styles presupposes
an exhaustive understanding of architectural form. It may to a certain
extent make use: of technical terms (such as 'beam' , "column" , etc.),
and the history of technics, on the other hand, has to take the formal
characteristics of the technical systems into consideration. The history of
technics has to render an account of the materials employed, the methods
of working the materials, the methods used when erecting the buildings,
and the co-operation of these factors within the technical systems. B
The history of building tasks forms a necessary part of a complete
architectural history, and should also play an important role in cultural
history. We have seen that the social and cultural conditions arc reflected
in the building tasks, and because of the participation of architecture in
almost all human activities, the history of building tasks may contribute
substantially to the solution of general historical problems. The building
tasks are described by means of the dimensions outlined above) and hier-
archies of leading and secondary tasks should be indicated.
The history of semantical relations treats the more special problem
of the changing forms of representation (symbolization). The problem,
however, is of central importance to the understanding of an epoch, and
an architectural history omitting the semantical dimension would fall
to pieces.
It is fully possible to limit oneself to one of the historical disciplines
outlined above. Because of the vast material, such a limitation is usually
necessary. The special, limited investigations, however, will remain frag-
ments if they are not unified in a history of architectural systems. Th is
history has the architectural totalities as its subject-matter and causes archi-
tectural history to become a branch of the history of art. 14
We understand that all the historical disciplines are interdependent,
and have to be regarded as abstractions from a complete, synthetic history
21
3
II An architectural hi, tory. therefore, can.
not carry t hrough a strier chronologieal pre_
senullion.
12 In times of transition what was self.
eYideDt becomes problematic. and therdore
subject to discussion and study.
lJ A short survey is in H. Straub :
Gudlidf/e de,- 1951 .
14 See Sedlmajr : X.. ,," .."i W"Arhti t .
p.usi", .
of architecture. So far the individual disciplines are only in part worked
out, and we cannot expect to approach completeness soon, even if a large
number of scholars should pool their results. The integrated theory of
architecture, however, helps us to overcome this difficulty. Also, if the
theory is based upon a limited amount of empirical material, we are
allowed to believe that its main characteristics will remain valid when
the empirical material increases. Because it interprets the problems which
concern us as a logically coherent whole, it is capable of organizing the
results of the single historical disciplines. The theory, so to speak, acts
as a co-ordinate system where the results are assigned their proper place.
Slowly the puzzle becomes complete, and it is possible that this process
will demand a certain revision of the co-ordinate system itself. Thanks
to the theory we may therefore carry out meaningful architectural analyses
and organize the results into an historical construct. As already mentioned,
this is possible because the theory offers a common taminology where
the terms have defined relations to each other. The terminology used
today is incoherent , contradictory, and subjective. As an example we
have referred to the misuse of the word space'. The co-ordination of
the individual investigations is only possible by means of a developed
terminology, and the solutions of the concrete problems outlined in this
study is only possible with the aid of a common terminology. The
establishment of a convenient termi nology, therefore, is what is above
all needed in the present confused situation.
C R. ITICISM
Fruitful architectural criticism also presupposes a common terminology.
Today criticism generally limits itself to the judgement ' of more or less
arbitrarily chosen properties of the work in question. It is not easy to
different criticisms of the same work, because of the dissimilar
terms employed. What the theory tells us about the architectural quality
is of basic importance to criticism. The semantical correspondence between
task and means, for instance. is essential. A work of architecture is above 2
all judged by investigating if the form ' fits' the task, or if the solution 99
rather has to be characterized as formalistic' . If a satisfactory semantical
2 I4
The Smlt wo,ds are often but witb
different and iII-defi ncd meanings.
correspondence is lacking, the criticism may be considered complete if
it poinFs out this state of affairs. But if the correspondence exists, one
has to go on investigating whether the task has been defined properly
and the form articulated adequately. If the task is only in part defined,
that is, if only some of the necessary poles arc intended, we have to reject
the solution, even if it is cleverly done. This is often overlooked in present-
day criticism, which considers the finished work from the point of view
of l'An pour l' Art, The criticism, in other words, should ask whether
the solution is a real solution to the task in question, or if it is only more
or less pleasant , but irrelevant. It is possible to consider the form separately
if one knows the style it belongs to. When doing this, the solution can
be characterized as contradictory, meaningless, or original. If contradictory
dements arc present, the solution cannot at once be rejected. To judge
it, we have to find out if this state of affairs is intended, in other words,
if the formal contradictions manifest a conflict-structure inherent in the
building task. 16
Pertinent criticism is essential to sound architectural development ,
and the critic therefore has the greatest responsibility. He should be
without preconceived ideas and possess a complete theoretical insight.
The theory not only offers the terminology, but also the analytical
methods needed.
To conclude we may say that the purpose of architectural analysis
is to investigate actual tasks and means, to furnish the historical insight
we need to 'explain' the architecture of other periods, and to solve our
own concrete problems. It should also be mentioned that the analysis
offers the basis for a judicious building-code. The building-code ought to
facilitate the creation of satisfactory architectural totalities, rather than
amputate the solutions through fragmentary regulations. 17 The legislation
should not consist of fixed norms, but rather have the character of direc-
tives where the higher poles arc considered. In principle the regulations
must be variable and interdependent, in accordance with the structure
of the actual architectural system.
2 1
5
52
16 It may vary where it is convenient 10
start the analysis. It is essential that all the
semiotical d i m ~ n . i o n hould be considered.
11 One should for instance talk about opti.
mal light intensity in connection with differ-
~ n t building ta. ks. nther than minimum
window meaSUreS. Cily planning in p.articular
ha. been unfortunalely hampered by Ihi. type
of regulation.
4. Education
It is natural to conclude our discussion of the applications of the theory
of architectur e with a few words on the problem of architectural
education.
Archi tectural education comprises all the single problems we have
outli ned. because it is obvious that the architect as a professional man
has to possess a complete under standing of his field. This does not mean
that he has to know all the facts furnished by historical and actual research.
Today this knowledge has become so vast that it is hardly possible for an
individual to master the whole field. Neither can we expect that the
architect is automatically capable of solving every building task, or of
judging every finished solution. But he has to possess the methodical
insight which makes this theoretically 'possible for him. In other words,
he has to have a full comprehension of the organization of his field, its
types of tasks and means. In this way he can understand his own rela-
tively specialized knowledge as a part of a more extensive context. The
architect should know the general principles determining the activities
of experiencing, producing, and analyzing architecture, which implies
that he also has to know the integrat ed theory of architecture. The
architect is hardl y able fully to solve any task without the general insight
furni shed by the theory, both because architecture is a synthetical activity,
and because the individual building task forms a part of a hierarchy of
tasks. l Only when seeing his field in this comprehensive way does he
become a real professional. The architect cannot expect to be respected
as long as he neglects his responsibility by permitti ng open conflicts
between the different solutions.
One of the most important insights offered by architectural theory
is that a building task cannot be solved through intuitive improvisation.
2 1
7
I This is obviously the WIle of afbirs Vi
truviu. had in mind when he requested th n
the archi l't should posoeu me moot diverse
quaii&atiom (I , I ). He oughl to be a erafts-
man, a a m:on of 1m .,...,
a malhenutician. b miliar wim historical
siooies. a diligent student of ae
quaiorcd with music, DDt ignora nt of roMi-
c ee, learned in the responses of juriJ.consUlti .
and familia r with astronomy and artrono mica.l
c.akulationi ' ,
The architect has to learn his ' craft ', which is something much more
than ability in drawing. In the past his education consisted of a long
and thorough training in the studio of an acknowledged master, where
the architect-to-be was taugh t to use a formal language and the practical
methods serving its realizations. " The unity of theory and practice was
a matter of course, a unity which has only been destroyed in our time by
the architect's fear of not being spontaneously ' artistic' . 3 The first step
towards a restoration of this unity is the development of an integrated
theory of architecture. In the past the tasks were rather invariant, and
the theory could have the character of relatively fixed and limited rules.
Today the adaptation to frequent changes has become imperative, and
the theory, therefore, should be an ' empty' but logically coherent and
compre hensive system whi-ch is capable of covering all architectural
problems. Modern theory, in other words, should be valid for all archi-
tectural systems, while the theories of the past were tied to single systems.
The education is not complete with the acquisition of a satisfactory
theoreticaf insight. We have seen that the creative faculty proper, the
ability of solving complex tasks through concretization, is only developed
by means of exercises. The intentions compri sed by the task, however,
are not learned through these exercises, but have to be taught more
directly. The unity of theory and practice, thus, is basic from the outset.
We could also say that the education consists of a theoretical and a
practical part which are interrelated. In addition we need training in
architectural perception to make the theoretical knowledge become alive,
and to give the production an adequate intentional depth. Training in
architectural analysis is also necessary to make the teaching become
somethi ng more than a mere transmission of information. Through analy-
tical exercises the theory should, so to speak, be developed anew by the
students. Analogously the students have to learn to define the tasks
adequately through training in task-analysis, instead of receiving complete
programmes from the teacher. Only in this way can the student compre-
hend that building means the solution of social and cultur al problems,
rather than the erection of houses of a certain number of square metres.
The education, therefore, must develop the faculties of integration (con-
cretization), analysis, and experience, and must also furni sh the general
218
2 That the architect WJ, initiated to a
meaningful architect ural system is illustrJted
by the importance the Med;Jeval ma,om at-
t Jchcd to the preservat ion of their professionJl
secret' . Their practical.theoretical insight WJS
regarded as something ' sacred ' , Jnd was thus
protectcd agJinst misunderstandings and de
VJluation. ( S ~ P. Frankl : The Secret of thc
Mediaeval Masons", in Art Bullnin XXVII.
1945)
3 This fCJr stcm, from the denluJtion of
Jrchitcctuul theory in the nineteenth century.
cultural background necessary to give the intentions an adequate depth.
Before we take a closer look at the organization of this type of training,
we should say a few words about the situation of architectural education
today.
4
When saying that the architectural situation is confused, this necessarily
implies that the training of the architects is unsatisfactory. The schools
have shown themselves incapable of bringing forth architects able to
solve the actual tasks. " These difficulties are not of a too recent date.
In the nineteenth cemury Ruskin. Morris and others pointed to the
insufficiency of architectural education. and the same was done by van
de Velde around the turn of the century. The first real attempt at an
improvement is represented by the foundation of the Bauhaus in 1919.
The first programme of Walter Gropius, who led the school, can be
understood as a continuation of the ideas of Morris. Gropius wanted to
counteract the architects' lack of contact with reality through a thorough
training in the crafts, " The academies, on the other hand, supported
the rArt pour rArt attitude, and regarded the assimilation of absolute
ideals of beauty as the purpose of education. To reach this goal one
copied' perfect ' models from the past. The Mediaeval craftsman, however,
was antagonistic to this attitude, and the first Bauhaus manifesto, therefore,
showed Fcininger' s woodcut of a Gothic cathedral on its cover. Today
it may seem surprising that the radical Bauhaus found its point of depar-
ture in the romantic movements of the nineteenth centur y, but its pro-
gramme was anyway regarded as a challenge to the dignity of the
academies. The school started its activity under public pretests. " The
programme, however, was considerably changed during the first years
and found its final form in 1923. 8 The importance of the crafts was still
emphasized, but at the same time a new demand for adaptation to the
industrial means of production was made. The school also replaced the
original expressionist tendencies with an 'objective' aesthetics, shunning
history and seeking a foundation in scientific knowledge. 9 These new
goals were manifested in an educational programme which left out all con-
ventions. In principle the training was divided into two parts, Werkle!lrt'
and Formlehre, The first comprised materials, tools, and methods of
production, while the second was concerned with a training of the eye
2 1
9
~ It i, impm,ible and unncccssary to give
a survey of all the didactical met hods used
at prclen!. We will onl y take a look at lome
of tbe more radical att empts at a 5UIution of
the educational problem.
5 For an expo.irion of the un, ati,factory situ.
at ion of architect ural education ,ee Gicdion :
.ArchiI4 t m ,,,,J Gemei"sc".1/t , pp. 50 If.
6 x" tbe ficst }I,mball$ mani festo, in Bllu-
"<Jus 19t<j-:18, Sew Yor k 1938, p.6.
7 So: A. Dorner: The Background of the
Rauhau. , in B" ..""us 191'}-28 , p. 9.
8 Gropi... : Idee .. "d A.. fbau ...
9 ' True CTCali"e work ean J,., done only by
the man who><: knowlalge a.nd mnlety of
the physic.al law, of .unc>, dytu.min , optics,
and WlUstics equip him 10 give life and shaf'C'
10 hii inner ,i. ion . (Gropius : Tran, lation of
lJu und Au/btl.... .. i ll Bauhaus 19/9" JS ,
P. 12).
(perception) and creative acnvmes (composition, represent ation). The
elementary aspects of both parts were unified in an introductory course
called Vorlchrc, which aimed at freeing the student from his
conceptions and at the same time releasing his creative faculties. 10
Werkldzrc and Pormlehrc were co-ordinated through common tasks, and
the goal was 'the collective work of art . in which no barriers exist
between the structural and the decorative arts'. 11 The need for co-
operation, therefore, was emphasized, and the individual was taught to
understand his problems as parts of a wider context. 12 The demand for
industrial adaptation led to ideas like standardization and mass-production,
ideas which are still just as valid. 13 We have to stress the wide-ranging
influence exercised by the Bauhaus and point to the vast practical results
attained during its relatively short life. With justification it can be said
that the school laid the foundation for a new ' international style ' . 14
When the school was closed by the Nazi authorities, several of its leading
members emigrated to the United States, where they went on working
for the same goals. I' After the second world war the Bauhaus ideas were
introduced in several countries. 16 At the same time, however, critical
voices began to be heard.
We may leave out the sentimental reactions which have always been
present since the first days of the Bauhaus in Weimar, and rather take
a look at the criticisms brought forth by certain of the members of the
new Hochschule fiir Gcstalrung in Ulm. This school was founded after
the last war as a ' New Bauhaus' , but it soon became evident that the
Bauhaus methods no longer led to the desired results. 11 The spokesman
of the school, Tomas Maldonado, points to the contradiction that the
products of the Bauhaus have become museum pieces, while we still
believe in the didactical principles from which they stem. I! Maldonado
especially attacks the idea of ' freeing ' the individual's faculty of spon-
taneous self-expression through a Vorkur!. 19 He emphasizes that the
Vor kur! is the backbone of the Bauhaus tradition. But the Vor kur! has
generally shown itself unable to adapt the individual to the real object
world of our society, and may rather lead to a new formalism. Instead
Maldonado suggests an education founded on the principles of scientific
operationalism. He proposes a replacement of the intuitive attitude by
220
10 Gropius : op. cn., p.
II Gropiul: op. cir., pp- 22-23.
12 Gropius : op. cu., P' 26.
1J As the gOJ I Oeepius ICes 'me greate. t
p<>'Sible stand ardization with the greatest PO"
.i hle var iation of form ' , and the city should
censlst of 'form elements of typical shape
repeated i n .eries' (op. cit. , pp. 18.19)'
H Gropius, howevcr, rejects the word
, . tyle ' and talks instead about Ei"hdl in
der Vie//olil . It i. here merely a que. tion of
the choice of terms. (see S. Gicdion : ' Da.
Bauhaus und seine Zeit ' , in Bauk.mil und
WukJorm, No. a, 1 2).
t' MOil importa nt i. the foundation of the
Chicago Institute of Design under Moholy-
Nagy in 1937.
16 The Bauhaus pril'lCiplcs were inU"oduced
to the teachcn of the Scandi navian arts and
craflS schools during II SUmmer COurK in
0 .10 in 1952. with four visiting
from the Institute of Design .
.7 Sec C. Norbcrg.Schu!1: 'Ehperiln"nl i
Ulm ', in Bygg"k" "st NO3, 1959.
lA T. ' Neue F.ntwicllungcn in
'; er l ndusc-ie und die Ausbildung deo Pm-
duklgestahcn' , in UUI a, p. 38.
19 tobldon.ado: op. eh., p. 39.
an exact analysis of the problems and the means to their solution. He thus
wants to give the dements entering the analysis concrete operational
definitions. The didactical philosophy of Ulm, therefore, is d ear enough:
it is against art and architecture when understood as taste and arbitrary
invention. It advocates instead a planning based on knowledge of man
and society.
There can be no doubt that the criticism of Maldonado has some
justification. At the same time, however, we need the experiences of the
Bauhaus to develop a satisfactory architectural training. The programme
of the Bauhaus surely contained a basic contradiction, in wanting simul-
taneously to free the' self-expression' and to create a new common formal
language. The wish for self-expression' must be understood as a re-
miniscence of the first expressionistic phase of the school, while the later
ideas in part stem from the influence of the Dutch Stijl movement, 2.
We may also question the continuation of the training in the crafts after
the realization of the importance of the industrial methods of production.
But the contradictions arc overemphasized and partly misunderstood by
Maldonado. The idea of freeing the individual can also be interpreted as
a freeing of his faculty as a co-ordinator, that is, the ability to synt hesize
and concretize the components entering the architectural totality. Gropius
has over and over again stressed the architect's role as a co-ordinator and
suggested that it is connected with his artistic faculties. The integrated
theory of architecture proves the correctness of the intuition of Gropius.
But it is another question whether the concretizing faculty of the architect
can be developed by means of the of the Bauhaus, The
was determined only by the characteristics of the materials and the tools,
ThU!J it easily degenerated into a ITt( play wi th forms. Th is was not
due to basically wrong didactical principles, but followed from a lack of
auxiliary_information from the sciences." The W and
of the Bauhaus may therefore be considered as positive attempts at an
improvement of the education. (On the basis of an integrated theory of
architecture we should reinterpret the Wak1ehre and the Formlehre as
technical research ' and ' form-research' including practical exercises).
The Bauhaus showed an intuit ive understanding of the architectural
totality and of the role of the architect. The time, however, was not yet
221
2tI Maldcnado : op. cit. , p. 39.
!l $c,e G. Lindahl : 'Von der ZukunfukJ.
lhcdn le bit zur Wohnma5Chine,. in
a1lJ Forni, Figun-Xew &ria I . Stockholm
1')59. pp. :!60 ff.
12 .J,. corn:spondinR dCRcocn tion i5 found
in the later pcnooal woek of Gropiu5 and
urecer. The lark of up-to-date infonnation
bcromc:s evident in Gropius' obsolete tI"Cat-
ment of perceptual and formal problems
un,it r the heading ' Gibt es cine Wisseascbaft
,ler Gcstaltung", in pp. 26 IT.
ripe for the development of lasting didactical methods. " In any case, the
Bauhaus cleared the way for an adequate education by abandoning obsolete
principles and by indicating basic new problems. The reason why the
methods have hardl y proceeded beyond the Bauhaus since, is obviously
the lack of a theoretical foundation which can bring order into the
whole field.
This is also the reason behind the lacking success of the Hochschu1e
fur Gestaltung. The more 'exact ' attitude propagated by the latter school
is not based upon an integrated theory and becomes just as arbitrary as
the free play with forms at the school following the Bauhaus tradition. H
The school in Ulm, in spite of the criticism mentioned above, has also
taken over certain didactical schemes from the Bauhaus. The education
thus starts with a Grundlchre." and the workshops have alsobeen inherited.
True, the tasks are defined differently, but it is a question if the didactical
changes are radical enough. Without losing the valuable insight gained
by the Bauhaus, it seems necessary to get rid of the prejudice that the
training has to be based upon an introductory course which aims at
freeing the individual (Bauhaus), or perhaps at giving him a general back-
ground for his study (VI m). Just as unsatisfactory, of course, are the more
conventional methods practised at most architectural schools, where the
different subjects are taught in splendid isolation. Statics, technics,
planning, illumination, form, etc. are still commonly taught independently,
and without connection with concrete building tasks. The building tasks,
furthermore, arc presented as conventional building types, without raising
the question whether the types are satisfactorily defined. The general
principles for the definition of tasks and for the articulation of forms
are not studied.
The point of departure for an adequate architectural education nat-
urally has to be the student's wish to become an architect. The student
has to be trained in the creation and understanding of architect ural
totalities, and nothing else. We have seen that such totalities are very
complex and that they are characterized by the interdependence of their
parts. Experience shows that it is impossible to grasp such totalities ' from
below", by learning something about their ingredients, and afterwards
trying to combine these. (Today the student is even asked to create
222
23 ObYiou,l y the methods have to be flex-
ible ~ n d adapted to changing practical and
social problems. This, however, doo nnt
prevent them from always bdng based upon
t he lame general theory of architecture. The
theory also warran ts that the di dactical meth-
ods are not changed in 3D arbitrary way.
24 For instance the 'Visuelle Mcthodik'
described by A. Frol haug in ULM t , p. ~ .
2 ~ See GNflldld lO'C in ULV I, p. ~ .
r
t
totalities whose ingredients he has not yet heard about!) The first demand
is therefore that the problems the students have to face shall be complete.
From the very beginning the problems presented have to comprise all
the aspects which characterize a typical architectural totality: building
task, form, technics, and semantical relations between these factors. When
solving the problem, the factors have to be considered simultaneously.
The building task should be defined in terms of its physical and symbolic
dimensions, and form and construction must be developed in accordance
with this definition. Such a synthetic problem may seem insurmountable
for a beginner, but well-suited possibilities really exist. As the first problem,
for instance, we may take a camp, where a group of persons shall exercise
simple functions within an adequate ' architectural' frame. The functions
concern the individual as well as the group. The elements making up
the camp (tents, huts), should be solved within certain given technical
limits (such as the materials available on the spot), and the elements
have to be formed and grouped to fit their purpose. 26 The next step taken
during the education should consist in the presentation of a second, more
complex synthetical problem, until we reach the city and the region as
the most comprehensive totalities. Thi s does not imply that the education
should end with city-planning. We understand, on the contrary, that the
urbanistic dimension is already included in the first problem. As the
urbanistic dimension can be characterized as a unifying factor which
orders the hierarchy of building tasks, it is essential that it participates
from the beginning. The synt hetical problems also help to develop the
student's ability to co-operate and to realize that the single task forms
a part of a larger context. "
What has been said above does not imply that the training only
consists in the solution of a few synthetical problems. We have seen
that the single dimensions of the architectural totality have a certain
independence. It is possible to present certain technical and formal
problems which are solved in isolation. But it is important that these
also are related t o synthetic problems, to make the student understand
that they mean a continuation of problems connected with a concrete archi-
tectural totality. Theoretical insight which is transmitted verbally also
becomes alive when related to an architectural totality which the student
26 Th is I,.,m prop"'Nl by H. Ry_
varden, a Torndbeim archite<;[.
27 In'lcad of wit h ' completc frag
ments', lhc education has to take its point
of in an "pproximatc ioea of the
whole.
knows from hi s own concretizing activity. Anal ogously the teaching of
architectural history should illustrate the concept archit ectural totality'
through the analysis and criticism of examples. This implies that archi-
tectural history should be presented as illustrations to the main synthetical
problems, rather than chronologically. In general we have to remember
that the student want s to become an archit ect, and that he is onl y open
to absorb satisfactorily knowledge which is clearly related to architectur e.
It would carry us too far to give the outl ines of a complete curriculum
based on these general principles. " We should only emphasize that the
programme has to follow the organ ization of the architectural theory,
to warrant an insight corresponding to the relevant goal-objects. The
theory describes architecture as an object, and it is of no interest to the
architect as such to learn anything which does not belong to this object.
The education, therefore , should familiarize the architect-to-be with the
theory of architecture and its appl ications, a problem which has to be
solved through simultaneous trai ning in anal ysis and concretization. It is
obvious that the contents of subjects like task, form, technics, and seman-
tics will change with time and place, but the dimensions as such remain
the same and secure the historical continuity of architectural education.
Only on thi s basis are improvements easily carried through. To warrant
the unity of the school, the different subjects not only have to be co-
ordinated by means of synt hetical problems, but also at an 'institute for
general architectural research', which has the theory of architecture as
its particular subject-matter.
The principles outlined above should not be confounded with a con-
ventional education which immediately asks the student to draw buildings .
Instead of tying ourselves to arleady existing types, we have to define
the tasks anew. The formation of types eventually becomes a part of
the solution.
It seems natural to take architect ure as the point of departure for
architectural education. But as far as we know, this has never really been
done. Instead, one has taught abstract formal ideals or fragmentary
aspects of planning and technics. The reason, without doubt, has been
the lack of an integrated theory of architecture which defines and
co-ordinates the problems.
:!8 The outlines art given in Flcre tanker
omkrin& :u-l.itekruld""nd5l:n by H . RyY.trdcll
and c" z..;orba-g-&hulz. 196: .
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Wittkower, R. : Architectural Principles in the Age of Huma nism; London 1949.
Wittkower, R.: "Systems of Proportion ' ; Architects' Yearboak 5. London 1953.
WOIfHin, H. : Kunstgeschichtliche GrundhegriDe; Munchen 1915.
Wolf, K. L. and Kuhn, D. : Gesudt und Symmetrie; Tiibingen 1952.
Worringer. W. : Abstrllktion und EinfuMung; Munchen 1908.
wordnger, W.: Formprobleme der Gotik; Miinchen 1930.
Wright, F. L. : On New York 1941.
Wulf, F. : ' Ten dencies in Figural Variation'; in Ellis: A Source Book of Gestalt
Psycholagy.
Zevi, B. : Saper pcdere l'architettura; Torino 1948.
Zevi, B. : 'Architettura '; in Enciclopedia Univcrsalc ddl'Arte, VenezialRoma 1958.
Zucker, P. : Town and SqUllre; Ncw York 1959.
23
2
t:
t
Index
Aalto, A. : 13, 206, Fig. 101
Abstraction : 36, 49> 61, 171
Addition: 93. CJ7. 1'11 . 147. Fig. 20
Adjustment: 37
Acsthdics: 14, 17. 18, 6] fl .
Alhtrti. L. B. : 88, 89. 91, 93, II 4, 122, 124. 152, 153, 175, 186, Fig. 17
Ambigui ty : 34. I,p . 150, Fig. 6
Ammannati, B. : Fig. 52
Analysis: 24. 30,51, 100, 102. 113. 2CJ9ff.
Andrae, W. : 58, 110, I II , Fig. 24
Anthropomorphism: 48, 89, 90
Architect : 13, 16, 20, 1M. 167, 201, 203, 204, 217. 222
Architccnlf al experience : 8s iI., 96, '17. 195 fl .
Architectural frame : 14, III, 172
Architectural intention. : ICfJ, 179
Archnecnual system: 104, 182, 186
Architectural totality: I02ff., 169, 179ft, I ~ , 186, 195, 222
Amhcim, R. : .p, 46, 71, 74, ]6, n. IJS. 145, Fig. 7. 10
Ar t : 20, 29, 62, 66, 6] ff., lOS, 122, 187
Arneulation : 58, 139, 151, 160, 166, 175, 18t , 184, 186
Arti fact : 116
r ATt pour rArt : 19> 6] , 68, 71, 133. 195. 11)8, :ns, 219
Asplund , G.: 18
Atomism : lOS
Att itude : 30 fl., 34, 62. 6s: fl., 81, 86, 19S, 196
Axiality: 143, 145, 150, 159. Fig. 62
Baldachine : 96, 99, 124. 139
Banality: 58, 50, 156, 157, 187
Bandmann, G. : 88,100, 110, 111, 123, 159, 183, 186
Baroque art (architecture) : 87, 92, 95, 97, ror, 120. 126, 135, 140, 141, 143, 146, 148,
154, 169, Fig. 13, 21, 22, 42, 43. 46, 50, 55, 96
Basilica : 106, 124, 183, Fig. 3-2
Bauhau s: 13, 18, Ig, 201, 21g, 220, 221, 222
Bergson, H. : 63
'33
Bernini, L. : 144
Borromini, F. : 92, 99, 100. 1]8, I,p, 150, 198, Fig. I] . ar, 22, 42> 46, 50, 55
Boundar y: 96,99. I] ]. 137
Bounding surface: 1 O ~ ) , 134, 139> 1490 150, Fi g. 41
Bramante, D. : 102. 145. 152, Fig. 68. 79
Braunfels, W.: 88. 118. 172
Brinckrnann, A. E. : 86. 98, 183
Brunelleschi, F.: 7, 93, 95, 104. 123, 143, 148. 151. 158. Fi g. 16. 18, 59, 84
Brunswik., E.: 14. 27, 28, 29. 31, 32. 33, 34, 35. 36, 41, 4l> 47. 51, 53, 54, 62. 63. 68
Buhler. K. : 29, 35
Building task : 16, 18,21.2-3.88.102. 104. l OS. Iogfl. 12] fl. 160, 16]. 173. 175. 1']6.
In, 1790 ISs. 186, 195. 210
Building type: : 106. 153> 157. I&), 173. 18], 20]
By-produa : 10']. 180
Capacity : 106, ISS. 160. 175. In, 182
Caenap, R. : 29, 56. 57. 58, 59. 82
Cathexis: 65. 66. 68, 188
Cave: 12.5
Ceiling : 137
Centralization : 1] 6, 142, 145. Fig. 59
Change: 74, 82. 160
Cher. c.: 41.56. 60. 61. 151. 156. 158
ClAM: 13. 17
City planning: 103> 113. II4. 121. 129. 152, 153. 223
Civitas: 118, 172
Classical architect ure : 146, 149
Classical orders: 17, 91. 92. 98. 145
Classification : ]1. 53, 66. 132
Climate:: 113. n8, 154
Closure : 136, 40
Cluster : 116. 140. I'll, 147. Fig. 53
Coherence-system: ]4. 64. 10']
Cognition: 65. 66, 188
Clear construction : 149, 164. 166, 206, 20]
Colour: 135, 142
Column: u8, 149, 171
Comunication : 38. 60 e.. 117. 129
Concretization: 64. 66. 68, 71. n. 10']. 157. 188
Constancy phenomena : 33. 43> 45, 198
Construaion: 161fl.
Content : 58, 63, 71, lOS. 1ft]
Continuity: 43,44. 1]4, 136, 141 151
Contradiction : 58
Convention : 56, 72, 145. 159. 16g
'34
Conventional ~ i g n : 169, 170, 171. 172, 179
Cornell, E. : 86. 96. 105, 148 198
Co-ordinate system : 5'h 142 144. 145
Creative activit y: 74, 77. 78 79. 201
Cr iticism : 14. 15, 20, n. 209, 214 ff.
Cultural symbolizat ion : I II ff.
Cultural theme: 127
Culture: 48, 58. 79fl., 82. I:t3
Decorarion: 104. 150. ISS
della Porta. G. : 155
Depth: ' 7, 94
Descript ion : 23, 51, 53 fT., 57, 61, 6.3, 69, go. 102. 132. 182. 195
Designed uncertaint y: 157
Devaluation: 17, 126, 177, Fig. 2
Deviation : 78, 157. 158
Dicntzenhofcr, G.: 172, Fig. 96
Dicnrzenbofcr, J.: Fig. 42
Different iation : I S, 38, I ll , 187
Dimensicn : 54, 55, 102, 103, 127, 209
Div ision: 97, I'll, 147, Fig. 20
Dolmen: 125, 171, Fig. 34
Dome : 17. 149
Dorner, A. : 17, 20,36,219
Dyggve, E. : 1.24
Economy : 14. 162, 173, 188
Education : 13, 18, 19, 19' J, 217 fT.
Eg),peian an (architecture): 74. 110, 134. 137. 145, 147. Fig. So
Ehrenfels, C. v.: 34. 43
Ehrenzweig, A. : 33, 150, 157
Einstein. A. : 55. 6c}
Element : 61. 10). IF . 133 ff., 138, 148. 149, -50. 160, 16) . 16g
Empath y: 8g
Empiricism : 82
Enclosure : 43. 1I0
Environ ment : 14. 17. 19, 21, 22, 32. 37. 103, l OS. 109. IIO. 112. 120, Hl 1
Eq uivocality: 35. 176
Euclid: 44. 46, 47, 48 54. 55, 74, 96, 101. lOS, 135. 140, 144. 172
Evaluation : 6), 66, 188
Exercise : 201. 218
Existence : 28
Expectatlcn : 37, 38. 39, 50, 6u if., 71, 158
Experience: 19, 22, 30. 32, 37, 38, 42, 71
Expression : 48, 49, 68, 73, 122
235
Fancy; 18, 156
Fashion ; 159
Feedback : 61, III, II ]
Feeling : 49, 68
Fehn, S. ; Fig. lO2
Fictive order; lO2, 164, 166, 1] 3, I8I, Fig. 90, 91
Figure ; 134, 136, 142, 144, 163
Figure-ground ; 136
Filter; II3, 1I8, 169, 1]4, Fig. 26
Flexibility: 114, lIS, II 6, 152, 16s, 205, 206, 20]
Floor : 13], 138
Form; 18, 19, 23, 45, 58, 61, 88, 89, 90, 94, 100, WI , 102, lO4, 10';' lO6, 131 fl., I48,
ISS, IftJ, 1] 0, 1]3, 1]4, 1]6, 177, 1]9> 188, 2OS, 2II
Fcnaalism : 181, 184, 185
Formal level : ]0, 99, 106, 150, 151, IS]
Forma l system: 149, 156, 1]3
Frame : 138, 153, Fig. 50
Francesco di Giorgio: 151, Fig. II, ]I
Frankl, P.: 8],97. ga, 141, 142, 154, 218, Fig. 20
Free plan; 145, 148, 149, 152, 2rYj
Frey, D.: ga,99, lO2, I05, II] , 120, 146, 154, 198
Fuller, B.: I6s
Functi on : 14, 16, 19, 103, 114, 116, 166
Fu nctionalism: 16, I], 119, 128, 173, 185, 186
Functional frame : III, 112, II4 fl .
Functional level : 116, 128
Functional theme: II6, II]
Fusion : 97, I41, Fig. 56, 60, ] 0
Geisuswisunschaften: 66
Generalizat ion: 30, 36, 38
Geometry: 55, 89, 135
Geometrical relations; 92, 144, I45, 147, 148, Fig. 58
Gesamtkunstwerk; ]4, I04, 126
Gestalt: 34,44,45, 46, 48,93,94,97,99, 100, WI, l OS, 133. 135, 139, 140, 142, 148, 166, 198
Gestalt law; 45, Fig. 6
Gestalt quali ty : 34, 45, 134, 135
Gibson, J. J.: 45
Giedion, S.: 13, 14, 15, 16, I], 18, 20, 81, II9, 129, 205, 219, 220
Goa l-cbject : t4
Gothic architecture: 99, 102, 124, 135, 136, 1}8, 139, 160, 164, 168, 1] 4, Fig. 33, 50, 5]
Gratification : 39, 6s, 66
Greek art (architecture); 91, 96, II ] , 120, 121, 125, 126, 142, 143, 146, 148, 149, 151,
180, 198, Fig. 29, 61
Gropius, W. ; 13,19. 159,219, 'V.). 221
23
Ground : 136, 163
Group : 97, 106, 116, 140, 146. 147, 154
69, 95
Guiding elements: 143, Fig. 60, 6s:
Habit : 59, 120
Hierarchy: 106, 120, 151
Histor icism: 17, 18, 23, Fig. 2, 77
History of architecture: 18. 19, 23, 184, 199, 2Ol), 211if., 224
Hochschule fur G(:su ltung : W I, 220, 221, 222
Hori zontal-vert ical i 44, 144
Human body : 91
H ume, D. : 92
Hyporhesis: 35, 54, 55
Icon: 71, 72, 1]0. 171
Iconography. Jconology: 69, 105
Ideology : 66, 173
Illumination : 96, 103. 135, 154. 19B
Illusion : 34. 64, 77. 19'3, 199, Fig. 5
Imitation : 390 40
Industr ialization : 15. 16, In
Infomution: 6ofl. , 70, 158
Institution: 40, 119
Intention : 31, 36, 41, 73, 78, 218
Int entional depth. 31, 35, 42, 195, 196
Intentional pole: 34. 50, 6';. 1]9, 180, 183
Interaction ; 38, 390 II I , 119, 123
Interior decoration: 204
Intermediary object : 33, 36, 50, 68. 72, 102, 184
Interpenetratic n r CJ7. 141, Fig. 55
Invar ianc(:: 54
Joint : 165
J&genst:n, J.: 28, 30, 36, 46, 55, 6], 78, 211
Kahler, H. : 100, 133, 212
Kandinsky, V. : 71
Kant , I. : 196
Kaschnitz-Weinberg, G. v. : 88. 100, 125, 171
Kees, W. : 63, 119, 130
Know[(:dg(:: 40, 64, 82
Koffka, K. : 34, 48
Kohler, W. : 34
Krau tbeimer, R. : 88, 142
Kulpc, 0.: 31
'37
Lan dscape : 103, 142, 143, 168
Langer, S.: 63, 80
Language: 57
Laugier, Abbe : 92
Layman (client) : 14, 22, 90, 198, 203, 204
Law: 54, 55, 56
Le Corbusier : 13, 17, 19, 92, 104, II4' n 6, 126, 152, 206, Fig . IS, 23. 37, 43, 81
Lenz en, V.F. : 54, 55. 82
Level : 29, 35, 181
Logi c: 58, 82
L' Orange, H. P.: 88, 123, 124, 149
Lundberg, E. ; B9, 110
Magic : 48, 80, 110, I II
Maldonado, T.: 220, 221
Mani festation : 43, 50, 188
Manneri sm: 140, 143, 150, Fig. 52
Maslow, A. H. ; 120, I , 210
Mass: 86, rfi, 97, 98, lOS, 133. 134 ft , 147, 163, 20'), Fig. 3
8,
39. 4-2
Material : 102, 106, 161, 174
Mathematics : 55, 58
Matter : 82
Meaning ; 38, .p , 43. 50, 6'], 69, 71, 88, 155. 168
Megalithic architecture : 125, 137, 147, 171 Fig. 34, 35, J6, 73
Menhir : 125
Meyer , L. B. ; 70, 71. 156, 157, 176, 197
Michelangelo: 50, 90. 95, '}6, 104, J24, 138, 139> 145. 153, ISS. 17
2
r]6. 183, Fig. 19,
49, 51. 69
Mie$ van der Rohe, L. : 18, 94, 10] , II4, 116, 135. 1 41, 143, 144. 145, 152, 154,
16
4,
166, 16], 173, 174, 175, 205, 206, Fig. 44, 56, 60, 70, 82, 94
Milieu: 119, 120
Minimum measure : 17, 114
Mint z, N. L. : 120, 196, 210
Modern archit ecture: 20, 21, t48. 149, 159, 205 fl . Fig. 23. 37, 44. 56, 60, 65. 66, 7
0
,
]6, 81, 82. 93> 94, 101. 102
Module ; 91, 144, 203
Moholy-Nagy, L. : 201. 220
Monumental architecture: 17. 119, 176. 185, 186
Morris, c.. 59, 61, 63, 68. 71, 73. 82, 101, 129. 133
Mcrive: 139> 152, 157. 183, 11:16, 188
Movement : 87, 95, 1r:!lo 198
Music : 33, 43,]0,71,8;,99, 138 139, 145. 150, 153, 157. 159, 199
Music21 harmony: go. 91
Myth : 50, 159
23
8
.
Naive realism: 31, 50, 199
Name : 32, 56
Naturalism: 69
. Nervi, P, L. : 102, 162, 163, 164, 166, Fig. 93
Neufert , E. : 17, 114, 115
Norm : f>5, ]O
Number : 55. 90, 91, 198
Object (physical, social, cultural): 28, 29e., 35, 36. 38, 40, 49> 51, 53 tf., 56, 61, 74,
82, 109, 171, 188, Fig. 9
Objectivity: 55
Operation : .p. 44. 46, 55
Operationalism: 57
Oprical refinement : 198
Order: 53,60., 73, 79> 81, 93, 145, 161, 166, 183, 18], 1m
Organism: 37, 1fT]
Organk architecture : 155. 161, 206, Fig. 101
Orientation : 40, 6s Ii., Fig. 9
Originality: ]0, 156, 157
Palladio, A. : S9. 91, 98, J9S, Fig. 11, 44
Panofsky. E. : 69
Parsons, T. : 21, 37, 38, 39, 58, 59> 60, 63, 65, 66, 68, ]9, So, 120, In
Part : 34, 44, 99
Paulsson, G.: 13, 88. 105, 118, 121, raa, 110, 112
Paxton, J.: Fig. 100
Perception : 12, 17 Ii., 30 fl., 41, 50, 61., 117. 195 fl.
Perrault, c. . 91
Perspective : 44, rr- 144, 103
Phenomenon : 17 s, 36, 40, 53
Philosophy: 80, 81
Physical control: II I , luff., 185
Physical milieu : 88, III, 118, 173, 101
Physiognomic perception : 48
Physiology: 31, 111
Piaget, J.: 41,42.43,44,45.46,47,53,54,55,56,74,75,76,94,106, 140, 141, 196
Plato: 63
Pragmatics: 59, 69
Prandtauer, J. : Fig. 43
Prediction : 55
Pregnancy: 45, 135
Prejudice: 39. 19]
Primiti ve man (architecture): 11, 48, 49. 8o, II 4, 118, 145, 185, Fig. 98
Probability: 50, 55, 60, 70, roo, 156
Production : 101 ff.
'39
Propert y: 28, 30, 33, 45, 58
Proportion: 44, 45, 91, 92, 93, 94. 100, 203, Fig. J4' 15
Proximity: 43, 44, 75, 140
Psychoanalysis: 33, 64
Pythagoreans: 90, 91
Qualitative concept : 89, 90, 107, J82
Quality: 108, 156, 181, 182, 184
Rader, M.: 68
Raphael: 148, Fig. 75
Ratio : 94
Reaction : 38
Reality: 64
Redundanc y: 151
Reichenbach. H . : 55, 82
Relat ion : 44,59, 105, II 7, 132, 140 ff., 148, 160
Relat ivity: 22. 34, 35, 176
Relevance: 181, 184, J96
Rel igion : 66, ft]
Renaissance art (architecture) : 69, ']0, 87, 9J, 92, 95, 97, 101. 102, 114, 12}. J2.4, 135,
136, 138 146, 148, 154, 158. 172. 173. 197, Fig. II, 12, 16, 17, J8, 19> 44, 49, 51,
59, 68, 69, 71, 75, J9, 50, 84. Ss
Representation: 42, 51, ]6, n, Ss, 203
Reproduction : 74 iI., Fig. 10
Research : 2CJ9, 210 Il,
Retinal pancrn : 32, 45, 46
Rhythm: J53, 183
Riegl, A. : 9'1, 95
Rietveld, G. : Fig. 3
Role: 22, 40, u 8, 171
Roman architecrure : II], J2O, 123. 12.4, 126, 136, lop. 143. 145, 146, 148, 149> 151,
163, 164, 212, Fig. 30, 31, 38, 6';, 88, 59. 9", 97
Romanesque architecture : 104, 139
Romantic art : 17, 184. 186
Row: g], 106, u6, 141, 146, 147, 1; 4
Ruesch, J.: 63, 119, J30
Rufer, J. : 139, 156, 159
Rule : 59, 13J, 149
Ruling taste : 16, 159> 183, 184, 199
Sangallo, A. da: 152, Fig. 80
Sangallo, G. da : Fig. 44
Scale: 103, 104, 152, 176
Schema: 41 iI., 48 s., 51. 74, n. 78, 183. 1
24
.,
Schinkel, K. F. : 17
Schlick, M.: 80
Schmarsow, A.: 95
Scholfield. P. H. : 91, 92, 93
Schonberg, A. : 159
Science : 43. 46, 51, 54, 61, 62, 64, 66, 81, 82, 170
Sedlmayr, H. : 17, 20, 69, 70, 85, 88, 99> 100, 102, 107, 1Ig, 124. 126, 127. 128. 139,
150, 158, 169, 171, 172, 213
Self-expression : 20, 68. 187. 221
Semantics: 59, 71. 88. 104, 107, 16] If., 176
Semant ical relation: 107. 168 fl .
Semiotic: 24. 56 If. 101
Semper. G.: 102. Fig. 27
Siegel. C.: 161. 165
Sign : ,38. 53. 56, 59. 60. 63
Similarity: 43. 142
Simultaneity: ga. 154
Situation: 21. 32. 35 .p. 43, 48, 50
Size : 93, 103. 104
Skeleton: 135, 162, 163, 164 ff. 205, Fig. 92-0 93. 94, 100
Smith, E. B. : 88. no, 124
Socializ.ation : 37 fl .
Social mil ieu : 11 2, 114. 118 fl . 123
Society: 15, 16. 17. 37, 490 III, 1290 186
Space : 19, 46 fl.. 55. 69. 86, go. 95, 96. 97, ga. 100, 101, 103, 104. l OS. It4 ' 133. 136 fl .
1-44. 147. 182, 2OS, Fig. 45. 47, 48
Spirit : 82
Standard: 39. 2fYJ
Status : 118, 1]2
Str nad, 0.: 117, Fig. 27
Str ucture : 53, 50, 70. 73. 99, 100. 146fl ., 154. 199
Structural anal ysia: 69, 99. 100, 102. 10' " 180
Structural similarity: 57. 71, 168. 169, 170, 173
Structural skeleton: 46, 139, 145, Fig. 7
Style: 17,65,7.71. 102, 104, 106, 145. 149> 156 f1., 175
Stylistic development : 158, 159> 183
Successicn : 44, 96, 98, 141, 145
Sullivan, L. H. : 88, 155
Sumer: 58. 110
Surface: 95. I02. 133, 134, 137 fl., 147, Fig. 44
Symbol ; 56 fl . 202
Symbolization : 57, 77, s
Symbol-milieu : 88, IU, 114' 112, 16<), ,173, 186, 201, 2IO
Symbol-system (descriptive, non-descriptive}. 38, 53, 57. 58. 59. 50, 63, 64 fl . 70, 79,
81. 149, 159. 171, 188
Symmetry: 134, 143, 159, 171, Fig. 40
Synaesthesia : 49
Syntactics: 58
System: 54, 197
Taste : 31. 66, 159
Teamwork: ISS, 203, 204, 221
Techni cs: 19, 10.2, 104, 106, 161 fl., 174, 177, 179, 185
Technical dement : 102, 161, 162, 165
Technical system: 102, 107, 161, 16.2, 166, 175, 177, JOS
Technology : .206
Temen os : 110
Terminology : 19, 23, 106, 147. :214
Texture: 102, 135. 14:2
Theme : 71, 93, 153
Theory : :23, 24, 86, 87, 101fl., 188, 193, 201, 209> 214, 218. 224
Tbcugbe: 62
Topology: 44. 45
Topological relation : 115, 134. 135. 139> 145. 147, 148, 1]0, ISs, Fig. 61
Tradition : :23, 159, 160, 188, :206
Truth :6f
Ut ilitarian architecture : ISs
Utzon, J.: Fig. 102
Value : 14, 39, 49> 64, 68, 73, Ill, 188,20:2
Var iation: 46, 153, 187, :207
Visual order; 13. 24, :20:2. 207
Visual traini ng : :23, 4:2, 197. 199
Virruvius : 88, 91, 92, IQJ. 14, :217
Vcgr-Goknil, U. : 69, g6, 104
Wachsmann, K.: 165
Wall : 137, Fig. 43
Werner, H. : 48, 49, 80, 153, 159, 170
Wertheimer, M.: 34, 45
Whitehead, A. N. ; 82
Whole : 34, ii. 99
N. : 160
w lugenseei n, L: 29> 34, .p , 50, 51, 57, 6}. 105,
Wiukower, R. : &), 87, 88, 89, 91, 92. 93, 100
Wolffl. in, H. ; 23, &), 95, 133
Wright, F.L. : 144. ISS, :206, Fig. 66
' 75
k'\
" -A ..... '"Zr"
. - . 0'
2.i2>'r"
',-<
,
,-{, .. rr-
,-.... . .:.:----
J
" 0
.:
Zc"i. B.: 19> 86. 95, 96, 97, 203. :21J
Zimmermann, D. : Fig. 43
Illustrations
1. VISual chaos.
Times square in New York.
2. Devaluation of hist ori cal forms.
I nsane Asylum in Utica (NY).
(After H.-R. Hitchcock: .Artbi-
tecture of tbe Nineteenth and
Twentieth CenI ur i es, Harrnonds-
wor th 1958).
3. Towards a new formal "vocabulary",
House in tr echt by G. Rietveld
(1924). (After Joedi cke).
4. Devaluation of modem forms.
Apartment house in Rome (1962).
5. Th e illusi ons of Kun dr and Mullcr-Lycr .
Proximi ty.

o 0 0 0
Similarity.
o
o

o
o

LL:
0=.
r -,
L -l
Inr erpenerraring figures Inrerprered
'correctly' and .... rongly.
Contin uity.
Figure-ground.
6. Ges talt laws.
7. The ' structural skel eton' of a squar e. (Afrer Arnhc:im).
8. Two cubes. (Aft er Koffka).
Orientations
Cognitiv e Cathe ctic Evaluative
Physical
Soc ial
Cult ural
9. Objects and orientations.
10. The rel ati vi ty of repro ductio n. (After Arnhcim),
11. Drawing by Francesco di Gio rgio.
j 12. PalJadio' s Villa Rotonda.
I L- '
13. The geometri cal scheme
of Borromini 's Sanr'Ivo.
(Aft er Benevol o).
..,
:
I
I
1.1 .
3 9 7

1 _ ~ - 7
~ L - : ' ~ 1
,
. , - - - - ~
' 0
14. Pr oportional analysis after Thiersch. 15. 'Le Modulor'. (Mtcr Lc Corbusicr).
16. ddi tion of geometrical units. . Lo renzo
in Flo rence by Brunellcschi.
// ~
r: ~
~
~ ~
t-- t-- l- I-
-
t---
,......-
17. The ' wall-theme' of Alberti's Sane' Andrea
with variations, (After Norberg-Sch ulz).
19. l\lichc1angelo : Cappella Medici .
18. Brunelleschi: Sagresria vecchia
in S. Lorenzo.
Addition,
.\ddiLive row, open. Addi tiTe group. open.
Division,
Addirive mlUp. closed.
Interpenetration
20. rrucrural relations according to Frankl.
N'
N'
21. Borromini: S. Carl o aile quartro
fomane. Interpretation of the
plan according to Sedlrnayr.
22. Interior of S. Carlo alla quattro fonrane.
~ - , - - - - -
23. Le orbusier: The civic centre of Chandigarh,
4 Iesopotamian huts. 2 .
(After Andra e).
5
25. Trova n.
( M t ~ r aumann).
Connec tor.
---- Filter.
--t-
-t -
'Filter' symbols.
Barn er.
Switch ,
Switch,
Switch,
FunaionaI zones wi th
coonecting filters.
The functiorul zones of a simple
dwellin . : Living, Kirchen, Sleep-
ing. Hygiene,
26. Analysis of physical
control and functions.
Planning level s.
- " - - - - - ~ _ ...
... . - . ;:II ,
Ephesos,
Orange.
Project hy Oscar trand.
.-
27. Theatres. (After Fre y).
Dresden (Semper).
---,
28. Enclosure. The houses built
recently outside the city-wall
have a disturbing effect. Giglo
Castello, Toscana.
29. Priene .
30. PeriJ/.)'IIIn; of Dioclctian' s palace
in Split . (After Ka hler) .
31. The Roman Pantheon.
32. The Palcochristian basilica.
s. Crisogono in Rome .
33. The cathedral in Amiens .
34. The dO/film of Man e- Kerio ned,
Carnac, (Aftrr Eneidopedia Uni-
uersale del!' .Arte} ,
tI
35. Etruscan do med tomb with central
pillar. Tomba di Casale Maritti mn,
Musco Archelogico Florence.
36. Towards arti culation. The
Tomb ofHal SaAieni, Malta,
(After Cescbi).
37. Le Corbusier : Notre Dame
du Haut in Ronchamp.
38. The pyramid of Caius Ccstius
in Rome.
O
~
L-)
t ~ ) }
~
I
39. Mass elements.
40. Symmetry.
.. ...
", I.,
. , .
.. .' -.
0 ..
41. The cube as a funcrion of its
bounding surfaces.
Bo rr o m i n i : Pabz:zo di
ProfUJ, = <b Fidein Rome.
Self-contradictory corner
treatment in a modcrn
aparnncm house in Rome.
J. Dicnrzcnhofcr :
The Casrlc of Pornmcr sfcldcn.
42. Defini tion of (he mass through
varying treatmem of the comer .
Massive wall wirh holes.
Le Corbusier : Notre Dame du Haur, Ronchamp,
kelcron. J. Prandraucr t St. Florian, staircase,
43. arying relationships between
wall and openings.
kin. D. Zimmermann: In dcr Wics.
': , -.' J - .
-.:". ~ ~ . ~
1....-
: PUu:zo TbiaIc in \
44. Definit ion of the surface through
subdivision and texture.
Mies van det Rolle: B ,cellona Pavilion. ( flC' Johnson).
G. Ssnga11o:
P1hz:zo Gondi. FIo'ence.
45. Space cells. Closure, guiding walls
and openings .
C!J
46. Continuous wall treatment. Bor rornini :
Cortilc of S. Carlo aile quattro fonranc.
47. The space cell as a function of [he openings.
,
/
I
\
,
.....
.....
,
\
J
./
-
-,
I' ,
~ o - 1'"",
I I I \
\ I I /
'...J 1,... /
r--7
\ ./
....... _.
48. Space as a function of the bounding surfaces.
49. Michclangelo : The Capit oline Square ill Rome.
Ulm cathedral.
50. Plastic and perforating clement. Fra ming.
meruu}" for , he boa' of Amon, Karnak,
Borro nUn.i : Cecvenr of . Carlo alle quarrro foncanc,
51. Michelangelo: Cappella forza
in S. Maria Maggiore, Rome.
52. Ammannati: Courtyard of
Palazzo Pitti in Florence.
53. Clust er. Stone Age settlement.
(M eer Hilberseimcr).
54. Plan of Nordl ingen,
(After Brinckrnann).
55. Interpenetration. The stairs of
Sant' Agnese in Piazza 1 Tavona
according to a dra wing by
Bor romini . (Aft er Hempel).
56. Mies van der Rohe : Project for
a brick house. (After johnson).
PIAZZA NAVONA
..
..
5 . Dominance. Ulm wit h cathedral and mediaeval houses.
58. Geometrical relations.
I I I
I I I I
59. Centralization. Brunelleschi :
S. Spirito in Florence.
.

.
t

+--
I
.

""'--
f--
60. Mies van der Rohe: Project for a house with three courts as planned (left),
and redesigned without guiding walls etc. (right).
....
,.. ,
I :'
_7
N
~
T
T
\ .
}O 0
I I
.10 0
"'" t- -
1 I I
loo.nT.U
I I
JDO,Ut
I
61.
62.
Topological order.
The agora of Athens.
(Aft er Lawrence).
Addition of axial u n i ~ .
10 Fori Imperiali III
Ro:e. (After Lugli).
63. Boghazkeuy, temple I.
(After Wachtsmuth).
...._ - ~ - _ - ~ I I I C : J C _ - - - - - - ~ 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1
I
1
II
64. Mcdinet Habu.
(After Hod cher).
65. Guiding wall. Mies van der Rohe: :
The Barcellona Pavilion.
:
..
.... \ -- I .' = . -
.. " ... .. .
.. ' .
, ~ ..
. J ~ . . .... ' .
66. Organization on the basis of a hexa-
gonal grid. Frank Lloyd Wright:
Hanna house. (Aft er Moser).
67. Plan of the Roman Pantheon.
$
68. Bramante : Proj ect for St. Pete r' s in Rome. 69. fiehelangelo : Project for St. Peter' s in Rome.
70. Mies van dcr Rohe : House on the
Be lin b ildin exhibition 1931. r u g
( ~
I
!'-T12.
~ ~ ..'l:
I l r
-
~
vf I I I I J I .,-
;.; -
r f ~
c
0 0 1'- 1 1
-
rn
- 181
- co
0 0 0
aU
.------.
0
~ I <}
I
-
7. ~
,"o:!
y - 0
o !lr------. . g
of P l ~
~
....
l..Ll
71. Francesco di Gi orgio : Ideal City. Palazzo Ducale, Urbina.
, , --_.- - ~
72. Geometrical structures.
o
73. Plan of temple I in Tarscien, ~ W U .
(After Ccschi).
House in Babylon.
(After Lundberg).
75. Raphael: Villa Madama. (After Lundberg).
6. C. ' orberg- chulz: Ita liesin,
Pon o Ercole. (1962).
77. Confusion of styles. House in Rome
showing gothic and rornanesque details
within a classical frame.
78. Spoliun, architecture. S. Giovanni in
Porta Latina, Rome.
79. Bramante: Tempietto il
S. Pietro in Montorio,
Rome. (After Letarouilly) ,
80. A. da Sangallo: Project
for St. Peter's in Rome.
(After Letarouilly).
h
81. Le Corbusier: Domino. Project
from 1914. (After Gi edion).
82. Mi es van der Rohe :
Project for a square house.
83. Protorenaissance. S. Miniato al Mont e
in Florence.
84. Brunellcschi: S. pirito in Florence.
85. Imitation of th style of Brunelleschi, Badia, Fiesole,
86. Domed mud huts in Syria.
(After La Casa ne! Mondo) .
87. Pol ygonal mas onry from Cosa . 88 . Opus retiatlainm fro m Ostia.
89. Roman bri ck-mason ry fro m a tomb
on the Via Latina.
90. Roman use offictive' orders. Model
of [be Marcellus thea t re in Rome.
91. Fictive skeleton, Etruscan tomb in Ccrveteri. 92. Real skeleton. Half-timbered house in Warwick.
93. Nervi : Palazzo del Lavoro, Turin .
94. Articulated skeletons by Mies
van der Rohe. Projects for
Crown Hall and Administration
building, 1. 1. T., Chicago.
95. Zikkllrat. (Aft er Dirrmer),
97. Porta San Sebastiano, Rome.
96. G. Di entzenhofer : Kappel , Waldsassen.
(After Hempel ).
98. Trulli from Alberobello, Puglia.
99. Parvenue archit ecture from Oslo.
100. Paxton: The Crystal Palace
in London (1851).
101. ' Organic' planning. Aalto :
Civic Centre in Saynatsalo.
(After Neuenschwander).
102. Organic planning through
the variati on of a technical-
functi onal theme.
J. LtzOO: Project for a residcnria1 quuter in Birk j (1960)
S, Fehn: Project for a rc- urant in l)rammcn (1% 1).
ARCH ITECT URE
Intenllons In Architecture
by Christi an Norberg-Schulz
... the book' s eruditi on and thorough-
ness are consistent wit h the schol arship
01his Swiss f orebears-Giedion, Woelt -
ffin, and Burkhardt. Since i t i s founded on
modern science and the doctrine of
symbolic form. it buifds a pl ace for
architecture i n the modern phi tosopai cet
l andscape. Its scope is thus even wider
than that of Gledi on's work.
- Nathan Silver, Progressi ve Archit ecture
Norberg-Schul z is a pr act icing architect
- his buildi ngs st and In several coun tr ies
- and he elucidates the nature of archi-
tectural real ity with a pr acticed eye and
from a pract ical viewpoint. Alt hough the
methods and theory that his book de-
. velops are uncompromisingly rigorous
~ and tightly formed, they are everyWhere
related to actual building, thr ough
spec if ic examples and through he use
01over 100 photographs.
Coli n St. John Wil son wr it es in RIBA
Journal that
This book is the first seri ous attempt to
outline a syst ematic and comp l ete frame-
work for the descr ipti on of architectu re.
In 1911 Let haby wr ote that " Modern
builders need a cl assi fi cation of archi -
tactur al factors i rrespective of time and
by essenti al variati on. Some day we shalf
gat a morphol ogy 01tne art by some
Li nnaeus or Darwin who shaff start fr om
the simplest cell and rela te it to the most
complex structures." I claim that this
book i s that "true cl assifi cati on." Its
mode, br ed in the school 01analytical
philosophy. is uniqu e for i ts preci si on 01
language and " structural" method in a
field long since abandoned to rhetori c
and reci pe. . ..
I have caffed the method of this book
"structural" to convey the manner i n
which the argument i s built up by similar
ki nds of " j oi nt" throughout tb whole
framework. This is the mark of i ts author-
it y. But what is remarkabl e is the extra -
ordinary br eadth of i nterest over which
thi s authori ty i s mai ntai ned.
The str ucture that Norberg-SchulZhas
fashioned is surely one 01the most im-
pressive intell ectual edi fices that any
archit ect has ever produced. The mate-
rials that are organicall y wor ed i nto it
i ncl ude Gestalt psychology, the me-
chanics 01perception . i nformation theory,
mode rn analyt i c philosophy, and in
part icular li ngui stic analysis, and the
general theory 01signs and symbols. The
result . however , is not an eclectic hodge-
podge-all these materials have thei r
place and purpose-e-n n.... ' T ~ ~ (
extraneously l or " shr flt\J I - c. I
orative effect. And a ~ U l-o
material had to be je \ a
plan wi thin l ormal b N0t(..
produce a theory wit
applications: one tha\ l
of the aesthetic s of arc,
equall y well of its social, l-
and cultural eff ect s. . ~
The chief focus of the book is on the
symboli c and li ngui sti c. The purpose is
to develop an integrat ed theory of archi-
tect ural descriptio n and arc hi tectural in-
tenti on: descriptio n. insofar as architec-
ture is a sci ence ; intention (and this
inc ludes the intention of the user as well
as that of the designer). insofar as archi-
tecture is an art.
The MIT Press
Cambridg e, Massachusetts 02142
www-mitpress.mit.edu
9000 0
9 780262 640022
NORIP