IN DEFENSE OF (SOME) MODERNISM

As a proponent of traditional design and architecture, I sometimes find myself in the position of wanting to defend the work of certain ‘modernist’ architects against the more strident ‘traditionalists’ on twitter and elsewhere who are as reflexively dismissive of all ‘modernist’ architecture as architectural progressives are of traditional forms. This blanket dismissal suggests to me that these critics haven’t really understood that what makes a building ‘traditional’ in part or whole is the degree to which it displays the underlying principles that constitute the ‘traditional’ in design, and are instead relying on superficial attributes or associations, such as era or style, in passing judgement. I always emphasise that traditional design has nothing to do with historicism or classicism, and that it is perfectly possible to do traditional architecture that is neither.

Traditional architectural principles are broadly hierarchical, and died in stages: first to go was ornament, but lack of ornament isn’t necessarily fatal to a building. Most of the architects of the period of early or ‘high’ modernism, though their work may be shorn of ornament, nevertheless preserved many of the other, arguably more foundational, principles of traditional design that were progressively lost over the following decades: natural materials, a degree of fractal scaling, local symmetries, a careful sense of proportion, plumb walls, rectilinear windows, and so on. Were you to bring them back, most of these architects would be appalled by the sterile, anti-human, parametric horrors of the architect-priests of our own time.

The modern cult of individual creative genius may have been disastrous for architecture as a whole, but that doesn’t mean that such figures don’t exist. And these architects certainly had their failures- the problem with free-floating, intuitive inspiration, as opposed to vernacular or classical design anchored in the communal rules of tradition and so almost infinitely forgiving of mediocrity, is that if the muse deserts you you aren’t left with much. But the best of the work of the best is, to me at least, undeniably beautiful, and represents a self-conscious but successful high-architectural invocation of the spirit of vernacular architecture. You might even, with some justification, call it ‘traditional modernism.’

Alvar Aalto

Alvar Aalto

Alvar Aalto

Gunnar Asplund

Gunnar Asplund

Luis Barragan

Luis Barragan

Jorn Utzon

Jorn Utzon

 

BRICK CHIMNEYS

Traditionally, brick chimneys bricklayers a chance to show off their skills and creativity, without being too showy about it: chimneys are prominent on the building silhouette and visible from the street, but only if you make the effort to look up. Brick chimneys and fireplaces have almost disappeared from new house builds, reflecting the change over the years from coal or wood heating to gas and now split systems. Where new houses have chimneys at all, they are much more likely to be a simple steel pipe with a cowl, connected to a freestanding woodburning stove. But even before this transformation, the Great Scold modernism had stripped the ornament from chimneys as it had from all brickwork, and by the 1960s and 70s most brick chimneys were simple undecorated cuboids.

Who would be a bricklayer today? Nothing but course after course of stretcher bond veneer, with the occasional soldier course over a lintel if you’re lucky. Predictably, modern architects show almost no interest in the endless possibilities presented by the traditional language of brick masonry: bonds, cornices, string courses, arches, colour patterns, ‘special bricks’. Instead there is only stretcher bond, or at the other extreme, attention-seeking gimmicks such as incorporating text into the wall, or Frank Gehry-style ‘parametric’ brickwork- in its way just as mechanical and monotonous as stretcher bond, but somehow supposedly ‘clever’.

Below are a few photos of brick chimneys from the 19th and early 20th centuries, all taken within an area of a few blocks. They range from barely ornamented examples on weatherboard workers’ cottages to more elaborate displays featuring multiple colours and special brick shapes. As is typical of vernacular architecture, they are all more or less the same, and at the same time all different.

 
 

MOULDINGS I - AN INTRODUCTION

 

TRADITIONAL BUILDINGS ARE articulate: composed according to an established grammar of parts and joints to form a coherent, hierarchical whole.  One particular characteristic that sets traditional architecture apart from modern, and by which traditional buildings express their articulated nature, is the use of ornamental mouldings: profiles formed in timber, stone or plaster which, when applied according to well-established rules, function to relate the parts of the building to one another through effects of light and shadow. 

From the early 20th century, modern architects, committed to the twin ideologies of social and technological progress, began to reject the ornamental tradition. After a century or more of this process of stripping away, buildings are now for the most part inarticulate, in both senses of the word: they don't have a grammar, and they don't have joints. 

The art of ornamental moulding is no longer taught in architecture schools, but could easily be revived.  There are only a handful of basic moulding profiles, and the rules of thumb governing their use can be found in old textbooks such as this one.

This post will be the first in an irregular series exploring the basic moulding profiles and how they are used, in the hope that it might be of some use to anyone interested in the topic or looking to use mouldings in their own work. Enjoy!

Example illustration from the book ”The Theory of Mouldings” by C. Howard Walker, 1926, linked above.

Example illustration from the book ”The Theory of Mouldings” by C. Howard Walker, 1926, linked above.