The text presented here is not precisely as published by OUP, but modifications are minor. Illustrations are another matter. Where images used in the original book were not my copyright, I have in most cases been able to substitute links to sources on the web. See Image Acknowledgements.
Note. When this text was submitted as part of a PhD thesis in 1996, the Notes were greatly extended. As the reader may prefer to ignore them, they have been collected into separate web pages. They are a mixture of: simple page references; additional examples or quotations to justify generalisations; and some afterthoughts. As there are so many, the existence of a Note is indicated discreetly in the text below in the form [2.x]. (These are not links.) [Notes to Chapter 2.]
Introduction.
Most criticism of built form is in terms of the concepts introduced in Chapter 1. Nevertheless it is apposite to review briefly some of the concepts developed in the philosophy of aesthetics. These will improve the clarity of following chapters, and may be useful to designers in discussing the appearance of built form with officials, clients, and users.
It must be admitted that there is no more agreement on questions of philosophy than there is on matters of taste. Many people find this a major disincentive in approaching the subject. Roger Scruton has described the philosophy of aesthetics as "a continuing intellectual disaster" and referred to the concepts in aesthetic judgments as "seeming to float free of any settled basis for their application". [2.1] The problem of ensuring that all participants allocate similar meanings to the terms employed is particularly difficult in the discussion of beauty. In spite of this, the concepts of art and beauty developed by philosophers find currency in everyday use, suggesting either that they have been influential in moulding our culture, or that they are shared naturally by all of us.
In approaching the literature of aesthetics, as applied to architecture, it is useful to make a distinction between 'architectural philosophy', which is about the criteria of success in architectural design (these include 'aesthetics') and the 'theory of architecture' in which someone tells us dogmatically how to build, but takes the criteria largely for granted [2.2]. Also somewhere in the scheme of things lies 'criticism' of architecture. Most texts on aesthetics devote more space to music, literature, painting, sculpture, and drama than to architecture. This chapter is therefore based on sources which lie on a spectrum from 'aesthetics of architecture' through to 'appreciation of architecture'. The treatment here is limited to the traditions of Western philosophy. It is important to remember that there are others. The special qualities of Japanese aesthetics and the vigour of Japanese architecture have recently aroused great interest in the West. [2.3]
General Observations.
As Charlton has pointed out, it is impossible to commence a discussion of aesthetics with a clear description of what it is, because that very question is one of the main topics of discussion. [2.4] The following treatment therefore starts with some general observations before concentrating on a number of specific topics.
One of the most striking characteristics of beauty is its elusiveness. We all have a strong personal sense of what it is. We can identify or envisage it with confidence when we see or read of something beautiful. However it is extremely difficult to define and describe these perceptions accurately to other people. There is major disagreement concerning the nature of beauty and the feelings it evokes in us. Philosophers, aestheticians and critics have discussed these problems for over two millennia with little progress other than to obtain a clearer idea of where their characteristic disagreements lie. The elusiveness of beauty is experienced also by designers who attempt to find a recipe for it or who embark on a project with the specific intention of creating it.
A natural response is to attempt to pin down beauty by defining it, and the experience that goes with it, in a progressively more restricted manner. The result is a particularly rarefied concept of beauty. The popular experience of beauty is considered invalid because it is affected by mental associations and moral values. Beauty in this sense becomes the preserve of a specially educated élite who claim exceptional sensitivity. Fortunately for us, this approach is mostly applied to the problem of deciding what objects are to be admitted to the world of museums and art criticism. Most architectural criticism admits the validity of a wide range of psychological responses to buildings. However, a few aesthetes insist that built form should be assessed in terms of its beauty in their sense of the word, and designers may wish to defend their structures from criticism by such people. Again it is an advantage to be familiar with the concepts developed in this process as they have affected many people's perceptions of beauty in art and architecture.
The operation of this process can be seen in the meaning which has been acquired by the term 'aesthetics'. The word originally came from the ancient Greek 'aisthetica' and The Shorter Oxford English Dictionary gives the following definition.
"Aesthetic: things perceptible by the senses, as opposed to things thinkable or immaterial. Misapplied in [German] by Baumgarten to 'criticism of taste' and so used in English since 1830.
A. adj.
(1) received by the senses
(2) of or pertaining to the appreciation or criticism of the beautiful
(3) having or showing refined taste: in accordance with good taste.
B. sb usually plural aesthetics
(1) The science of the conditions of sensuous perception.
(2) The philosophy of taste, or of the perception of the beautiful."
('Sensuous' means "stimulating or apprehended by, or operating through the senses: aesthetic". Pocket Oxford Dictionary.)
Baumgarten's book Aesthetica appeared in German in 1750. The engineering profession has since developed its own shade of meaning for the word, and in the world of commerce it is currently put to many uses, including signs advertising 'aesthetic' poodle clipping.
Dickie states that the term 'aesthetics' may be correctly used to cover all philosophical discussion of 'beauty' in its widest sense from the ancient Greeks to the eighteenth century, even though beauty in its modern limited sense was not treated as a subject in its own right during that period. [2.5] This discussion included the related question of the definition of 'art'. The concept of 'beauty' was significantly rarefied in a burst of activity in the eighteenth century and it then appeared necessary to introduce new concepts to cover the characteristics which had been excluded. Amongst these were 'the sublime', 'the picturesque', 'the tragic', 'the comic', and many more. These have since fallen into disfavour, as aestheticians have concentrated mainly on the restricted concept of 'beauty'. Renewed effort in the twentieth century has led to a 'philosophy of criticism', which may prove to be a competitor for the theory of 'the aesthetic' (Table 2.1). [2.6]
The tension between those who seek to restrict, rarefy, and mystify the concept of beauty, and those who see it as a part of everyday life that is accessible to the average person has thus existed since earliest times. Responses which various thinkers have considered irrelevant to true beauty have included:
- appreciation of the intentions and technical skill of the artist and designer
- feelings of nostalgia, familiarity or affection for the object
- memories or mental associations aroused by the object
- reflections of an ethical nature
- impressions provided by senses other than sight
- consideration of the purpose or usefulness of an object.
This last factor is of considerable interest to engineers. Its relevance has been debated continually since the time of the ancient Greeks, when Socrates asserted that a dungbasket could be beautiful and a golden shield ugly, if the former were perfectly adapted to its purpose and the latter were not. However, there is a strong school of thought that utility is irrelevant to beauty, which should be judged solely on the basis of visual effect. Some adopt the extreme position that objects cannot be beautiful if they are useful.
The question of mental associations is a difficult one. It is possible to distinguish between the beauty of form of a bomber aircraft and the ugliness of its purpose, but many people would find their appreciation of its beauty significantly altered by this fact. To take a more positive example, the attraction of a nineteenth-century steam engine has much to do with the fact that it reminds us of an age of bravura and confidence and arouses a probably misplaced sense of nostalgia.
The qualities and associations listed above may be seen as additions to the basic material properties of an object, such as its shape, texture, and colour. The basic object plus these abstract accretions may be seen as a 'greater' aesthetic object. The problem of deciding which, if any, of such qualities may be validly included can be side-stepped by transferring attention to the observer's personal thoughts and feelings: by trying to understand or define the aesthetic experience. Beauty can thus be recognized because it gives rise to an aesthetic experience.
It is commonly agreed that an aesthetic experience must include 'pleasure' or 'enjoyment' (raising major problems in the definition of these terms), but for many thinkers the urge again arises to rarefy the experience and devalue certain types of emotion. For them, the attention must be closely focused on the object, resulting in a diminished awareness of extraneous factors. There must be no emotion such as pride, envy, or greed involved, so that the observer is 'disinterested'. The immediate sensual pleasures of perceiving primary colours and shapes, although valid, are considered to be of a lower order than the intellectual pleasures to which they provide access. It may be claimed that passivity is essential, and in some accounts there is mention of a feeling of union with the object or with the ultimate nature of the universe. Religious thinkers feel this brings them closer to God, and thus come full circle to the assertion that all things must be beautiful in this sense, because they are all works of the Creator. (In medieval thought, pigs and slugs were mentioned.) Aesthetic experience of this type, and therefore the definition of beauty that goes with it, is of more immediate relevance to objects of art and to architecture seen as an art-form, than to the aesthetics of industrial structures.
The idea of defining beauty by concentrating on the reactions of the observer, rather than the qualities of the object itself, raises the old problem of whether beauty is an independent property which is present to varying degrees in individual objects, or a concept which is abstracted or even imposed on an object by the observer. Is the observer more important than the object in this process?
In the following sections some of the questions raised above will be discussed in more detail, in the light of their implications for aesthetics in engineering.
The dissection of beauty.
The following discussion of the meaning of the word 'beauty' is directed to its application to visible objects, particularly built form. We are not concerned here with beauty in fields such as literature, drama, music, or painting.
The Oxford English Dictionary states that 'beauty' is used abstractly to mean the following:
- Such combined perfection of form and charm of colouring as affords keen pleasure to the sense of sight.
- The quality or combination of qualities which affords keen pleasure to other senses (e.g. that of hearing), or which charms the intellectual or moral faculties, through inherent grace, or fitness to a desired end.
- The prevailing fashion or standard of the beautiful.
- The abstract quality personified.
The first definition recognizes the prevailing tendency to give precedence to the sense of sight; the second includes the broader aspects, often discounted; and the third allows for common usage.
In considering the nature of beauty, the first and major problem is whether there is something which exists independently of objects and observers and which would continue to exist if all human beings disappeared from the face of the earth. Many people subscribe in some way to this idea and it greatly influences their arguments concerning aesthetics. Plato considered beauty to be an 'ideal form' whose nature is so basic that it cannot be logically described in terms of other concepts, but must be apprehended directly by the intellect. He considered it to be present in individual objects only in an imperfect form described as 'relative beauty'. By observing many examples of such relative beauty we can form some comprehension of the ideal and absolute beauty. However, Plato maintained that people need a special insight to reach this level of understanding, so that only the wisest amongst us are privileged to apprehend the superior form. In contrast, Aristotle held that beauty actually resides in objects, so that if they were all destroyed there would be no more beauty.
For the pragmatist, the difference between the two theories is subtle. Perhaps the Aristotelian offers more encouragement to attempts to analyse the nature of beauty, while the Platonic offers a greater prize at the expense of greater mystification. Both, however, permit us to ask what special qualities of beautiful objects provide evidence of, or embody, the phenomenon we call 'beauty'? (This formulation carefully avoids asking what 'causes' beauty, or what 'makes' us see something as beautiful.) The answers suggested by philosophers down the ages range from single factors such as 'unity', 'harmony', 'truth', or 'expression of emotion' to complex constellations of factors grouped into several categories. In the latter the categories are often placed on different levels of value.
One example is the theory of Aquinas who, according to de Zurko (1957), identified three major factors: integrity; proportion or harmony; and splendour or clarity. The first required that the object lack no 'essential' parts, functions, or elements; the second concerned their size and shape; and the third was "the shining forth of the form of a thing … with all the fullness and richness of its perfection and order". De Zurko summarizes these conditions as demanding "the right type, number, and arrangement of parts, their correct size and proportion, and lastly, their clear organization or expression". He notes that, despite the breadth of factors included, Aquinas gave pride of place to 'proportion'. [2.7] Concise descriptions such as the above do not take us very far because the value judgements 'right', 'correct', and 'clear' must be left unexplained. The concept of 'order' also leaves room for widely differing interpretations.
A contrasting instance is the theory of the French doctor and architect Claude Perrault (16131688) who adopted a broader definition which included factors such as custom, usage, rich materials, the imitation of nature, and fitness for function. (Perrault also made a clear distinction between 'positive' beauty, a concept similar to Plato's absolute beauty, and 'arbitrary' beauty which is linked to custom and fashion.) [2.8]
Thus, for most of history, some philosophers have seen beauty not merely in visual form, but in the utility of objects and in their fitness for their purpose. Many have seen beauty in an ethical light. Some have equated it directly with truth, goodness, and virtue; others have seen these merely as important components of beauty; while others have seen beauty of form as similar, but inferior to, moral beauty. They have seen ethical beauty in an admirable purpose and even in the virtue of the artist or designer. They have seen in (or perhaps through) objects the beauty of divine purpose and order, which they recognized in the complex organization of plants and animals. A similar appreciation has been accorded to the organization of buildings and machines.
Particularly in the eighteenth century philosophers began to recognize factors such as nostalgia and familiarity as affecting our evaluation of the beauty of objects. The theory of associationism suggested that beauty lay in the ideas sparked within us by the object. These might include ideas about the social and political conditions surrounding the creation of the object. Others, like Hogarth, accepted the fact that our judgment is affected as we get to know and love an object, treating this as a valid, if inferior, component of its beauty. [2.9]
Schemes which include a large proportion of these factors are naturally complex. Fergusson (1849) used three main headings; technic beauty, aesthetic beauty, and phonetic or intellectual beauty. Technic beauty is the beauty of perfection which a sailor sees in a fine ship, a jockey in a fine horse, and a 'mechanician' in an ingenious machine. Aesthetic beauty was the direct sensuous appeal of such things as colour, musical harmony, and proportion. Phonetic beauty was that "which may be presented to the mind by mere words or conventional signs". Association played a minor role under this heading. Many such lists are provided by de Zurko. [2.10]
Beardsley presents an extensive list of the types of critical statements that are made in support of value judgments concerning works of art. This is not, of course, a theory of beauty, but includes many of the relevant components, and is of further interest because we are ultimately more concerned in this book with criticism than with philosophy. The scheme is summarized in chart form in Table 2.2. Beardsley identifies three major categories of statement relating to cognitive matters, moral value, and aesthetic properties. (Cognition is "the mental act or process by which knowledge is acquired, including perception, intuition and reasoning". Collins English Dictionary.) Like all schemes, this one is idiosyncratic. It is noteworthy that in defining his categories, Beardsley implies that 'the aesthetic' does not include satisfaction derived from intellectual and ethical values.
Beardsley (1958, p.456) gives the following examples of statements with cognitive import:
"it is profound … it has something important to say … it conveys a significant view of life … it gives insight into a universal human problem."
Statements about moral value might include:
"it is uplifting and inspiring … it is effective social criticism … it is morally edifying … it promotes desirable social and political ends … it is subversive." [2.11]
Although Beardsley is writing about art in general, statements along these lines are frequently applied to buildings.
Beardsley subdivides his 'aesthetic' category again under three headings: the objective, the affective, and the genetic. Under 'objective' he includes statements relating to some qualities or internal relationships within the work, or to some 'meaningrelation' between the work and the world. Presumably these statements must be reasonably independent of the observer. This category is further subdivided into comments on the unity, complexity, and intensity of the work. The first includes comments on the organization, degree of perfection, and the inner logic of structure and style. Complexity is assessed as development (of a theme), richness of contrast and variety, and subtlety or imagination. Intensity might be measured in terms of vitality, forcefulness, beauty, tenderness, irony, tragedy, delicacy, and rich comedy.
It is interesting to see beauty given such a minor position at the bottom of the hierarchy, along with other qualities such as irony. Under the heading of 'genetic statements' are those relating to the qualities and attainments of the artist: originality, sincerity, technical competence, success in the fulfilment of intentions, and success in the expression of emotions. 'Affective statements' relate to the amount of pleasure provided by the work, whether it is interesting, dull, exciting, moving or stirring, and whether it has a powerful emotional impact.
Beardsley does not agree that all these statements should be applied to works of art: he is simply listing all that are made. Nevertheless, many commentators would disagree with the manner in which he has divided them. It is significant that there is no mention of utility or function within his scheme. There is no reference to truth under his heading of 'moral value', and sincerity is located under the 'genetic' heading.
The scheme might, however, be perfectly satisfactory to many architects and critics of architecture who, while not dismissing function, see it as something which is of low priority or which is relatively easily catered for and so may be taken for granted. Given the current strong reaction to the modern movement, such views are becoming more dominant.
Parallel concepts.
To a large extent we must accept that the concept of beauty has been restricted [2.12] and it becomes worthwhile to examine briefly a number of parallel concepts which include some of the factors thus excluded.
The concept of the sublime was developed to encompass feelings of awe inspired by vastness or obscurity. The emotions inspired are not necessarily pleasant, and may include a feeling of being overwhelmed. Popular subjects in the last century were the ranges of tall mountains and the fjords beloved of Romantic painters. In the world of built form, the pyramid inspires awe because of its size and the enormous human effort that went into its construction. Many modern engineering projects would qualify, an example being motorway viaducts in mountainous regions of Europe (Fig. 2.1) which sail over rooftops in an apparently effortless conquest of space. These possess what would now be admitted as beauty, in addition to their awe-inspiring qualities.
Fig. 2.1. A modern instance of the sublime? Felsenau Bridge over the Aare River, near Bern, Switzerland. 1974. (Struct. Engr: Christian Menn.)
Fear need not detract from the experience. The morning following the sinking of the Titanic, survivors who were unsure whether they would be rescued from their lifeboats were able to appreciate the beauty of the icebergs which had caused the disaster. [2.13] For some people the presence of fear actually provides an acute edge to the experience of this form of beauty.
Another concept whose development paralleled the restriction of the definition of beauty, is that of the picturesque. As applied to buildings, this seems to have meant 'unplanned' or not ordered. An example commonly quoted is that of the farm house which blends with the countryside, follows the contours of the site, and has been extended and developed in response to need and opportunity. Formalists feel that such structures cannot be truly beautiful because they lack order, have no established style, respect no academic system, speak no formalized language and thus offer non of the experiences which such people identify with 'beauty'.
The romantic tradition valued, in addition to these qualities of the vernacular, imperfections in construction such as the 'erosions' of marble columns; reminders of mountains and quarries, and particularly ruined buildings. As Rudolf Arnheim notes [2.14] it would be foolish for architects to strive consciously to achieve this 'type of beauty' and engineers are certainly not in the business of introducing imperfections or designing ruins.
Some people gain what they consider to be a positive aesthetic experience from what most of us would describe as ugliness. Addison, who is credited with introducing the idea that the size and novelty of an object could arouse aesthetic feelings, suggested in 1712 that "novelty bestows charms on a monster, and makes even the imperfections of nature please". [2.15]
Collins points out that this interest in the experience offered by ugliness stems from the idea that 'the truth' is often ugly, and hence ugliness may be linked philosophically to the Platonic concept of beauty as 'the splendour of Truth'. [2.16] There is also a link with the religious attitude that everything created by God must be beautiful. A strong fascination with ugliness was evident in the latter half of the nineteenth century. This extended to architecture, and the buildings of Furness (Fig. 1.2) are often cited as examples. A more recent instance of such thought is provided by Robert Venturi's fascination with the commercial culture of the United States and its expression in the built environment. (Venturi's book Complexity and contradiction in architecture, published in 1966, is seen by many as marking the start of the post-modern movement in architecture.)
A concept somewhat separate from beauty, and much used by engineers is that of 'elegance'. We often speak of an 'elegant solution' to a problem, as do mathematicians and architects. Engineers might talk of an 'elegant' bridge. Surprisingly, the term is rarely used in texts on aesthetics, and does not appear in the indexes of Dickie, Charlton, Beardsley, or de Zurko. Is, then, elegance a part of beauty, a type of beauty, or another concept which has now been excluded from beauty?
The Oxford English Dictionary amongst many definitions includes for the noun 'elegance': 'tasteful correctness', 'harmonious simplicity', and 'refined grace of form'; and for the adjective 'elegant'; 'graceful', 'free from awkwardness', and 'tastefully ornamental'. Excepting perhaps the last, engineers would agree that these are the sort of qualities they appreciate in an elegant solution or an elegant structure, especially a bridge.
As we shall see in Chapter 7, the term 'perfection' is often used by functionalists as almost synonymous with 'beauty', to describe what pleases us in machines and animals. If we say that a single-minded concern for functional efficiency will automatically produce beauty, we imply that beauty exists separately from function. A pure functionalist must therefore say that functional efficiency or mechanical perfection is equivalent to beauty, or that we will have an aesthetic experience when we recognize it.
Aesthetic experience, aesthetic object, and aesthetic attitude.
The idea of the aesthetic experience is that we 'know' something is beautiful because when we see it (some would include 'when we think of it') we experience a special sensation. This may be described simply as 'pleasure' but we then become involved in a complex debate on the precise description of pleasure. We are thus left with the problem of trying to make the definition of 'aesthetic experience' as precise as possible.
Saint Augustine saw the aesthetic experience as "agreement between the object and the whole of man's nature: mind and body…" He saw it as a form of love and, believing beauty to be a product of the union of truth and goodness, maintained that "to love with a love that conforms to order is good". [2.17]. Ficino (14331499) felt that during the contemplation of aesthetic objects, the soul withdraws from the body and from interest in bodily concerns. [2.18]
Schopenhauer (1819) considered the aesthetic experience offered by architecture to be an inferior quality, but at the sight of a beautiful building
"the beholder is emancipated from the kind of knowledge possessed by the individual, which serves the will and follows the principle of sufficient reason, and is raised to that of the pure, will-free subject of knowing. Thus it will consist in pure contemplation itself, freed from all the sufferings of will and of individuality." [2.19]
Beardsley lists the following characteristics attributed to the aesthetic experience [2.20]
- The attention is firmly fixed. The object 'controls' the experience.
- There is a quality of intensity in the experience. There is a narrow field of concern. There is an absence of pain, and a feeling of pleasure not comparable to that of ordinary desires.
- One is conscious of unity and a logical, orderly sequence.
- The experience seems complete in itself, lacking nothing.
He says elsewhere that the experience relieves tensions, resolves lesser conflicts within the self, and helps create internal integration or harmony, that it refines perception and discrimination and also develops the imagination. [2.21]
Others quoted by Beardsley speak of intense stimulation combined with repose, a reconciliation of opposing tendencies and a balance of forces, purposiveness without purpose, a loss of sense of self, a state of psychological distance from the object, an inhibition of tendency to movement, and an absence of desire to 'use' the object. [2.22]
It can be seen that beauty defined as the object of such an experience is limited. This is of course the whole point of the exercise. Whether such restrictions are appropriate may become apparent in the following chapters. The exclusion of utility is again important for engineering aesthetics.
When we attempt a precise definition of beauty by deciding what artefacts may be considered suitable objects of the aesthetic experience, the answer must depend on the criteria which are considered relevant to the judgment of aesthetic value. For Saint Augustine a worm could be an aesthetic object, and to many thinkers, especially functionalists, a machine may be one.
It is usually agreed that the back of a painting is not part of the aesthetic object and neither are the intervals in a ballet performance. Geoffrey Scott points out that in classical and Renaissance times it was the practice to use a metal prop to support the statue of a prancing horse. It was not considered part of the aesthetic object, and thus its presence did not diminish the aesthetic qualities of the statue. He extends this argument to the metal ties which in the late Gothic period resisted the horizontal thrust of masonry vaults supported on slender piers. [2.23] A structural engineer might prefer not to ignore the reality of the situation, and wish that a form had been chosen to avoid the need for incongruous accessories.
Also important is the question of whether the appreciation of fine art and built form need be limited to the sense vision and to the physical object. Some maintain that it is not possible to have an aesthetic experience unless one is actually looking at the object. This is an excellent way of reducing the influence of extraneous factors, but many would feel that appreciation is above all a mental activity and that it is possible to have an aesthetic experience in remembering an object. It is this, of course which permits the inclusion in the aesthetic 'object' of factors such as the intentions and skill of the artist; purpose and method of functioning; and political and moral considerations.
When an attempt is made to clarify the nature of beauty through a consideration of aesthetic objects, it proves difficult to identify what single property it is that they have in common. This leads to the proposition that there are 'species' of beauty. It has been pointed out that the form of a beautiful race horse is quite different from that of a beautiful draught horse. Eighteenth century philosophers noted a similar distinction between the lithe beauty of a statue of Mercury, the winged messenger of the gods, and one of Hercules. [2.24] Scruton provides an example from the realm of built form in contrasting the aesthetic experience of the streamlined Einstein Tower in Potsdam (Fig. 2.2) with that provided by the highly ornamented fourteenth-century bell tower of Florence cathedral. (His actual objective is to argue that the former is greatly inferior to the latter.) [2.25]
Fig. 2.2. A particular sort of beauty. The 'Einstein Tower', astronomical observatory, Potsdam. Designed c.1919. (Archt: Erich Mendelsohn.) Photo: go to the Image Archive of the Astrophysical Institute, Potsdam AIP, search for 'Einstein Tower' and scroll down the photos.
Most philosophers are uncomfortable with this concept. It is natural to feel that all 'beautiful' things should have at least one property which is common to all. However, according to Charlton, followers of Wittgenstein subscribe to a theory of 'family resemblances' which recognizes that in complex categories such a common property may be impossible to find. Charlton points out that although a beautiful sea shell and a beautiful performance of Bach's Saint Matthew Passion seem to have little in common, there is a chain of correspondences which leads from the shell, through 'shell decoration', to literary allusions, to mythology, on to patterns of sounds, thus to simpler forms of music, and thence finally to Bach's masterpiece. [2.26]
An alternative possibility is that a category such as 'the beautiful' is a repository for an ill-assorted collection of disparate qualities which have been lumped together over the centuries as a result of untidy thinking, and which should really be sorted out and given separate labels. The problem with the process of rarefaction is that it reserves the name beauty for just one of these.
A concept interrelated with those of aesthetic experience and aesthetic object is that of 'aesthetic attitude'. This has been developed to explain the phenomenon that any object may provide someone with an aesthetic experience, and that what is important is the preparedness of the observer (in terms of both desire and education) to search out its aesthetic qualities. Aristotle felt that even the humblest creature, which might appear contemptible if judged superficially, could be recognized as beautiful by the 'eye of reason'. [2.27] Saint Augustine felt that the beauty of God's creation could be seen in a worm or a cock-fight just as much as in a work of art. [2.28] A modern example of such readiness to find beauty where others might not, is the art of the industrial photographer (Fig. 2.3). [2.29]
Fig. 2.3. The art of industrial photography. 'Steam and Sunlight' by Harold Cazneaux, 1934. Steelworks of Broken Hill Proprietary Ltd., Newcastle, NSW. Photo: National Library of Australia.
The pragmatist might prefer this concept of the 'aesthetic attitude' as a readiness to see good in the total experience of an object. However, for most commentators it means a predisposition to place the mind in a special state of preparedness for the aesthetic experience, filtering out irrelevant and disagreeable stimuli. Dickie places their theories under three headings. [2.30] The first is the idea that there must be a 'psychic distance' between the observer and the object, usually self-imposed. This is seen to have applied in cases such as the Titanic disaster discussed above. Next comes the eighteenth-century idea of 'disinterested perception'. This is basically that no thought of personal gain should intrude on the appreciation of the object. Finally, it is recognized that an object offers a range of aspects suitable for intense contemplation and the observer must exercise some choice in deciding what combination of these will be the 'object' on a particular occasion. (This construct is similar to the 'Gestalt' of modern psychology, the term being based on the German word for 'form'.)
The aesthetic attitude theory represents modern attempts to limit the definition of 'aesthetic object' to only those artefacts where it is fitting to apply the 'aesthetic attitude'. The 'aesthetic experience' is then the experience which results.
The rarefaction of beauty, art, and architecture.
The desire to narrow the definition of beauty, or of the aesthetic experience, object, or attitude, unfortunately leads to an élitist attitude in some circles. This interferes with the discussion of the subject and is liable to antagonize those who feel they are excluded.
Mead, in An introduction to aesthetics states:
"It is certainly no exaggeration to claim that most persons achieve an aesthetic mood very infrequently. Indeed, many individuals go through life only rarely pausing in detached and absorbed contemplation before an example of natural or created beauty. And certainly some individuals who believe they have frequent aesthetic experience actually have yet to undergo a genuine one." [2.31]
Geoffrey Scott's complaint against the Romantic movement and modernism was that they aimed to make art and architecture intelligible to all and thus "offered the privileges of culture without demanding its patience." He complained that people no longer valued the sort of training provided by learning the characteristics and proportions of the classical orders. [2.32] Critics such as Scruton and Watkin have also condemned the modern movement for attempting to make art accessible to the masses. [2.33]
A similar attitude is associated with Plato's division of beauty into 'absolute' and 'relative'. [2.34] There is a suggestion that those aspects of beauty perceived directly by the senses (such as colour and outline) are of a lower order than those appreciated by the intellect. However, there seems to be some confusion as to what perceptions belong to what sphere. Aspects of beauty which appear to be linked with the mechanism of the brain, such as the attraction of geometrical proportion and the 'pure' forms of spheres and cubes, are considered to appeal directly to the soul, whereas aspects which appeal to what is illogical in us, such as fashion and taste, are considered to provide 'mental' delight.
The concept of 'art', which for many people is linked to that of beauty, has similar overtones of snobbery and class distinction. The word itself, as popularly used, has suffered the same gradual narrowing as has 'aesthetics'. [2.35] It is now commonly applied only to the fine arts or simply to the art of painting.
Most texts on aesthetics are concerned with their application to 'the arts' and are written by people who have concentrated in their studies on literature, drama, and music, as well as philosophy. It is thus important to ask 'what is art in this sense?', and 'in what way is it distinguished from design in architecture or engineering?' A simple answer is that it concerns the creation and appreciation of artefacts (paintings, sculptures, plays, music) created exclusively to arouse emotion in the observer. Geoffrey Scott wrote that "the arts must be justified by the way they make men feel" [2.36] and the Victorian critic Walter Pater (1873) wrote "art comes to you proposing frankly to give nothing but the highest quality to your moments as they pass, simply for those moments' sake." [2.37]
The romantic concept of art lays great stress on the ability of the artist to 'express' an emotion or idea. While this has no place in engineering design it is a concern of many of the architects with whom engineers might find themselves working. The concept of 'expression' carries many shades of meaning, and these will be discussed in later chapters.
Another important aspect of art is the implied contract between artist and spectator that the process of appreciation should be governed by certain conventions. It is recognized that under normal circumstances art-lovers will not pull a painting away from the wall to examine its back, or walk on stage during a play and wander behind the scenery. Some buildings are covered by a similar contract because access to the sides and rear is restricted, and it is possible to treat only the street facade and interior as works of art. However, engineering structures and many buildings do not fall in this category because users normally have unrestricted access to all aspects of them. Moreover, engineers would see no reason to restrict access in the interests of artistic effect. As a result, large sections of books on aesthetics, devoted to appreciation in terms of conventional restrictions, are of little relevance here.
In discussing the question of what objects are suitable for inclusion as 'works of art', Beardsley asks how do we know that a section of cracked pavement is not as worthy of our critical attention as are some paintings? [2.38] (Presumably he has in mind abstract paintings.) He could more significantly have asked the same question of a beautiful sunset, or a beautiful machine or structure. All would appear to an engineer worthy of aesthetic analysis. The cracked pavement cannot, however, be admitted to the 'world of art' because it is impossible for the critic to locate it within a given tradition or style, to trace what exemplars, teachers, and patrons influenced the work, to compare it with other works of a similar nature, or to assess its merit. In other words it, was not intended to be a work of art, and is not accepted as suitable material for discussion by critics and artists.
The concept of 'architecture' has also been subjected to a process of rarefaction by those who desire to treat a small part of it as a fine art. Pevsner made an often-quoted distinction between 'architecture' and mere 'building' in contrasting Lincoln Cathedral with a backyard bicycle shed. [2.39] In the words of Stanley Abercrombie, "most buildings have no intention and no hope of being art" and "architecture is building raised to the level of art". [2.40] Many commentators have difficulty in accepting any building as art because of its relative usefulness. Schopenhauer wrote that "architecture is bound to suffer great restrictions through the demands of necessity and utility". [2.41] Most writers accept that the proper objectives of architecture are encapsulated in the formula of the Roman architect Vitruvius: 'convenience, strength, and beauty'. However, Geoffrey Scott saw the 'problem' of combining these as a matter of making unfortunate concessions in the third in order to guarantee the others. [2.42] Scruton devotes his first chapter to this 'problem of architecture', while Horden mentions that "the demands of utility" are "often taken as an affliction peculiar to the architect's endeavour". [2.43] It will obviously be difficult for engineers and people who hold such attitudes to understand each other.
A further factor in the definition of fine art is that it was once the preserve of the very rich, powerful, and privileged. Even today, objets d'art provide the extremely rich with a means of investing their wealth and displaying it to others. They thus serve as a form of currency. The resulting commercialization, and the aura of privilege which still clings to certain aspects of art, causes some distortion in the identification of admissible objets and may affect the perceptions of those who feel excluded. Dickie (1971) discusses this aspect of the world of art in his second chapter: 'Art as a social institution'.
Nevertheless, there are sound philosophical motives for the desire to rarefy beauty. One is the purely technical motive of improving the accuracy of terminology. Once components of our response such as random associations, and moral judgements have been eliminated, we may expect to find less variability in aesthetic judgement. Beardsley sees 'aestheticism' as protecting art from censorship and as a means of defending new and trailbreaking aesthetic objects from the wrath of conservatives. [2.44] It is perfectly understandable for people to seek repose and refuge from the pressures and hurts of everyday life in something one can hold to be separate, perfect, and beautiful. An afternoon spent in quiet contemplation in an art gallery; an evening in which we can lose ourselves in a ballet; the catharsis of a powerful film or play, are all valuable for the contrast they offer to the routine of everyday life and for the special insights they bring. It is natural that many should fear for this if 'art' is not kept clearly separate.
Geoffrey Scott (1924) expresses the aesthete's position poignantly.
"Man, a stranger on the indifferent earth … adapts himself painfully to inhuman nature, and at moments … compels inhuman nature to his need. He may cower before it like a savage, study it impartially like the scientist … but it remains something alien and inhuman. But a third way is open … to construct within it a world of his own." [2.45]
This is in strong contrast to Tredgold's description of civil engineering in the Royal Charter of the Institution of Civil Engineers (1828) as "the art of directing the great sources of powers in Nature for the use and convenience of man". [2.46] The potential for misunderstanding between engineer and aesthete is again apparent. The desire of many architects and commentators to treat architecture as a fine art thus raises questions of interest to the engineer who must work with the architect or who wishes to take an interest in architectural philosophy.
The contribution of the observer.
It is appropriate at this point to examine briefly the part played by the observer in the process of perception. Even in the case of simple diagrams, we may 'see' things which are not really there (Fig. 2.4a). We have the ability to extrapolate from the sparse brushstrokes of an artist's sketch and 'recognize' an entire object. The formation of such constructs permits some variation in interpretation, as in the well-known 'duck-rabbit' and 'vase-face' drawings (Figs 2.4b and 2.4c) where we suddenly become aware of a possible alternative interpretation, and can thereafter switch at will from one 'Gestalt' to the other. In attempting to interpret an Escher drawing we apply conventions of perspective when they are not appropriate. [2.47] This mistake would not be made by someone from a culture in which such conventions are unknown. Special training is also a factor in the interpretation of microscope slides. To the beginner, a geological or medical section viewed through the microscope is a meaningless jumble of vague and usually colourless outlines. [2.48] People are gradually trained to interpret these 'correctly', but then run the risk of seeing only what they expect to see.
Fig. 2.4. (a). Perception of what is not there: spiral illusion in a circular pattern.
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Fig. 2.4 (b). Alternative 'Gestalts' duck or rabbit. |
Fig. 2.4 (c). Alternative 'Gestalts' vase or faces. |
This phenomenon is reflected in aesthetic theory. Scruton states that in a classical building (Figs 1.5 and 2.5) one can choose to see the pilasters, false arcading, and cornices as being applied as ornament to a solid wall, or can see them as 'structure'. [2.49] (Presumably he refers here to transmission of load rather than visual articulation.) Engineers would be less inclined to see these features as anything other than ornament because a sense of the way in which stresses are distributed indicates that the pilasters and false arches make only a minor contribution to strength.
Fig. 2.5. Alternative 'Gestalts'. Facade of The Amphitheatre, Nîmes.
(In the book, I used the Colosseum, Rome.)
Is this a massive pierced wall decorated with pilasters and cornices
- or a rectangular framework backed by arched infilling?
Perception is a matter not only of choosing those elements and characteristics that we wish to see, but of rejecting those that we do not. Such selectivity is essential to preserve our sanity. It has been suggested that if we really "opened our eyes" we would be assailed by a "blooming, buzzing confusion". [2.50] Charles Jencks remarks that if we "tuned-in" to all the mental associations and meanings that objects could hold for us, simple acts like picking up a cup of tea and posting a letter would become impossible. [2.51]
Motivation and capacity to absorb are thus significant factors in the degree of perception achieved. It is possible to envisage a sort of 'appetite' for visual stimulus, which can be awakened by education and by exposure to the ideas and artefacts of a tradition in art or architecture. Motivation must play a part in the fact that we can find beauty (formal as well as ethical) in something which at first sight appeared ugly or nondescript. Partly this seems to be due to an increasing sense of familiarity with the object: a feeling of being 'at ease' with it. It is also due to our increasing understanding of it: of the complexities of its form and of an increasingly complex web of associations which it may carry. We may achieve this by our own efforts or with the persuasion and 'explanation' of another who is already convinced.
This raises the possibility that there is a scale of 'accessibility' of such beauty in objects, depending to some extent on the analytical skill and knowledge of the observer, but also on the inherent qualities of the object such as complexity and visual organization. Perhaps our reaction to an object depends very much on whether we see its aesthetic value as "coming at least half-way to meet us". [2.52]
In the field of architectural criticism, both Ligo and Bonta have demonstrated how strongly the preconceptions of individual critics, and of the times they live in, can influence what they see in building. [2.53] As Boyd noted, enthusiastic supporters of pre-war modern movement architecture were able to see the supposed pristine clarity of the 'machine age' in a brick wall whose stained, off-white paint was peeling from a base of cracked stucco. [2.54] Those who admire Renaissance architecture are similarly unaffected by discoloration, decay, and accretion.
The moral value system of observers may have a considerable effect on their aesthetic judgement, even when this is limited to formal beauty. In a study by Preiser (1986), subjects were shown a photograph of a small suburban building, and were asked to rate its aesthetic merit. Some were told that it was a kindergarten, and others that it was a drug-rehabilitation centre. The latter group gave it a lower rating than the former.
It seems therefore that all perception involves selection and rejection and that our choices will be governed by our personalities, natural abilities, upbringing, and education.
Taste, style, and fashion.
Taste, style, and fashion are often equated with triviality: with tail fins on cars and with the frequent silliness and ephemerality of high fashion in clothing. The exception is when 'style' carries connotations of 'elegance'. Structural engineers may place in this category the 'whims' of the architects whose demands so complicate their work. Since the development of post-modernism, many are concerned that a similar spirit is affecting built form. Theorists are also worried by the importance of fashion in art and architecture and this concern is a further motive for restricting the definition of beauty, in the hope of isolating the ideal, and hence the unchanging, in what we appreciate. Some hope to find fundamental laws which might govern aesthetic response. They propose that this can be done by studying artefacts whose qualities have been developed and tested over the millennia or which, like the Parthenon, have been universally acclaimed as beautiful.
Unfortunately the principles of classical beauty that have been postulated do not work well outside the field for which they were developed. It is difficult to apply them to modern structures, especially curvilinear ones such as tents and shells. In order to ensure that design in both the engineering and architectural sense remains vital, it appears that designers must come to terms with being obliged to operate in a fluid situation where aesthetic response is considerably affected by style and fashion.
The word taste has a range of meanings. In philosophy it refers to the idea that we have a special faculty that enables us to apprehend beauty. It may be classed as a means of sensory perception along with memory or imagination. Another concept is that taste is a special mode of application of the ordinary senses. In the literature it is often a sort of aesthetic attitude of which the author approves: an ability to divine what is 'right' and 'proper' in everything from social manners to architecture. [2.55] In origin, the word had connections with gastronomy and the analogy is often drawn in texts on aesthetics and the appreciation of architecture. [2.56]
Geoffrey Scott gives some indication of the aesthete's concept of taste when he writes that Renaissance architecture was an architecture of taste, "seeking no logic, consistency, or justification beyond that of giving pleasure" and that opposition to the concept springs from "impatience of the intellect in the presence of a factor which seems to disown its authority…" [2.57]
Most philosophers agree that taste is innate, but may be developed by training and education. However, the majority believe that some of us are better endowed with it than others. Few people are willing to admit that they have bad taste. Thus anyone who tries to define the concept too closely is soon trapped in a circular argument. Taste, or 'good taste', is what people have who can recognize beauty. How do we know what is beauty? It is what people with good taste (such as myself) say is beautiful. The result is that 'good taste' tends to be the taste of the most powerful or articulate groups in society. Taste naturally varies, and one meaning of the word is "the style or manner favoured in any age or country" (Oxford English Dictionary). In this sense taste, and by implication style, is on a par with the lesser meanings of 'fashion'.
The word style also has many meanings. These shade from the type of 'style' displayed in writing or sport; through the style of one who, as Roger Scruton would have it, knows how to live (with style); to the sort of styles that are found in architecture. [2.58] Collins points out that style in the second sense was applied to built form in the seventeenth century by identifying different styles such as the 'gay theatrical', the 'solemn temple' style, or the 'grandiose palatial' style. From this developed the concept that it was inappropriate to use, say, the theatrical style for a domestic house, and thus that a designer who committed such an act was guilty of misconduct. [2.59]
Style in architecture is considered by Scruton to reside in the details [2.60], but Scott warns against identifying it with 'superficial' aspects such as Doric pillars and pointed arches [2.61]. The two views can perhaps be reconciled as Scott sees detail as giving effect to mass, space, line, and coherence in the overall design. [2.62] He sees style as having a more important role in that
"Every art, every architecture, requires a principle of permanence, a theme to vary, a resisting substance to work upon, a form to alter or preserve, a base upon which, when inspiration flags, it may retire." [2.63]
He cites as examples the ways in which Greek and Gothic architecture "on the whole observed the logic" respectively of the lintel and the vault. [2.64] However, Renaissance architecture was not governed by structural necessity to anything like the same extent. Architects "felt for the first time the embarrassment of liberty". In order to provide some "resistance in the clay" the architects were "led to create a new authority in design itself". [2.65] Here Scott is discussing mainly the establishment of rules for 'visual design' rather than design in the engineering sense, although he considers that this discipline was imposed in Greek architecture by the structural limitations of the beam and lintel, and in the gothic by those of the vault. Scruton says much the same thing in stating that style limits choice, and makes it possible to 'read' the visual articulation and the symbolism of buildings, just as the agreed conventions of spoken language allow us to communicate verbally. [2.66] He then makes the more controversial statement that by producing order from chaos, it in fact increases rather than decreases our freedom. The conventions and variability of such languages require that the observer be educated, experienced, and conversant with current developments.
Style in this sense, as an aid to the selection of alternatives from a bewildering variety of options, is known in engineering design. Support for this view, and a number of references are provided in Powell (1987). [2.67] The difference is that such stylistic conformity in engineering is applied for different reasons and to different ends. As far as visual style is concerned, engineers would agree that style should be generated rather than adopted. Functionalists would argue along with modernists in architecture, that the best generator of style is a concern for functional efficiency.
Theorists see fashion as something different from, and of a lower order than, taste. Scott sees the spirit of fashion as a seizing on detail, and a failure to grasp principle. [2.68] Its other main characteristic is the rapidity with which it changes. From the viewpoint of psychology Peter Smith sees this as caused by our rapid habituation rate, our appetite for change, and the pleasure we obtain from arousal in the presence of the new. [2.69] In the world of built form, Johansen sees it as deriving from a sort of Oedipal need of architects to do away with their former mentors. [2.70] Charles Jencks suggests that, since the masters of the modern movement could not advertise their wares in a consumer society, they were obliged to develop recognizable personal styles as a way of attracting commissions. [2.71] This process would currently be labelled 'product differentiation'.
Innovative people may adopt a new superficial style to convey coded messages such as: "I am daring and adventurous" or "I am a leader of opinion" or "I have more taste than most people". The style must diverge significantly from the norm. Others wishing to create a similar impression may adopt the same symbols, until the fashion spreads to people who wish merely to conform, and becomes itself the norm. The symbols have then completely lost their power to convey the original messages, and it is necessary for those who originated them to find new ones. [2.72] A characteristic of this process is that once the fashion has passed, people find it difficult to understand why the symbols concerned ever had any significance at all. In particular, the symbols of the superseded fashion become a laughing stock for those who follow the new.
A similar process may be traced in the evolution of the modernist style in architecture, and in current developments in post-modern design. The galleria with semi-cylindrical glass roof was introduced by innovative architects to provide a historical reference together with a certain ambience and practical weather protection. It now provides a ready means by which any architect or client can demonstrate that they are abreast of architectural fashion. Engineers may question whether anything as expensive and long-lasting as a building should be designed according to the principles which govern the design of clothing, but there is room for lightheartedness in architecture which is designed to attract tenants and their clients over a comparatively short lifetime.
The problem for aestheticians and philosophers as well as for engineers, is to distinguish fashion from style and both from 'eternal beauty'. It is very difficult to know whether any deviation from the norm is a fashion or a style until time, possibly of the order of centuries, has proved the difference. Even Christopher Wren, who was both a scientist and a classicist, wrote
"Whatever a man's sentiments are upon mature consideration, it will be still necessary for him in a conspicuous work to accommodate his Design to the Gust of the Age he lives in, tho' it appears to him less rational." [2.73]
Image Acknowledgements. Linked images, Chapter 2.
Astrophysikalisches Institut Potsdam. [Link.]
National Library of Australia. [Link.]
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[Chapter 3.]
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