Architects really struggle to write. They use pedantic, superfluous linguistics to examine the circuitous principles of the abstract, but also relatively concrete, schemas of architectural codification. Have you started banging your head on a wall yet? See what I did there? For older generations, this way of writing is not their fault. It was the style of time, but nonetheless, it’s frustrating and confusing to read. For contemporaries, well, I don’t know what to say. Architects need to release their hold on academic language. Look, I’m guilty of falling into this trap at times, but we all have to work on improving. Anyway, I was reminded of this while I was reading The Eyes of the Skin: Architecture of the Senses, which Juhani Pallasma first published in 1996.
The Incredulity of Saint Thomas by Caraveggio, which appears on the cover of the book
Image Courtesy of Wikipedia
Pallasma argues that architecture has been diluted to merely the visual image. As a culture, we are so obsessed with things ‘looking good’ that we have pushed away all other senses. I wholeheartedly agree. The idea is a simple and legitimate point to digest. The book, however, was like choking down a fiber bar. You know it’s good for you, but it ‘s a bit of a struggle. Okay, I’m being dramatic. But he doesn’t make it easy. I wasn’t an English major, but I remember my 7th grade teacher constantly saying “show, don’t tell.” Pallasma tells a lot.
I don’t want to bad mouth Pallasma any more because, like I said, he’s got some very valid arguments. We need to embrace all of our senses (even beyond the classical 5)! And, I get it. Architects search for a way to communicate beyond their buildings. Writing is one of the easiest ways to get those ideas across. Yeah, you could draw. You could paint. You could create a sculpture. Or, you could even build something. But how do you distribute those mediums? When you’re communicating, you want to be able to easily connect to your audience. Writing gives you that platform. And, thanks to technology, it’s now even easier now to connect and share with. That’s literally why I write this blog. But, you also have to engage the audience. Keep them interested!
Speaking of, one interesting quote is “The door handle is the handshake of the building,” (56). I’ve definitely heard this quote before, but it was great to see the context behind it. Before reading this book, I saw that quote as an excuse to design a whacky door handle for no reason. Maybe I’m just a shallow designer, but now I get it. Pallasma is emphasizing the importance of details and the power of tactility and materiality.
My favorite quote from the book is: “The real measure of the qualities of a city is whether one can imagine falling in love in it,” (70). What can I say…I’m a romantic, and I love cities. Here, Pallasma is talking about the influence of the urban environment. He’s not talking about the beauty of buildings themselves but about the beauty that the buildings can create. What a powerful notion. And, felt from the rest of the book, he would argue that the beauty, any beauty, comes from a combination of all the senses, not just a pretty picture.
A third quote to snack on is: “Understanding architectural scale implies the unconscious measuring of the object or the building with one’s body, and of projecting one’s body scheme into the space in question,” (67). To be honest, I don’t really feel like dissecting this right now, but it’s important and thought provoking.
I have to say that I’m biased. I get really frustrated with all academic writing, not just architecture. It’s pretentious and inaccessible. The author seems to be actively attempting to alienate themselves from their own audience. This book reminded me of that. But, luckily I love architecture, so I was able to barrel through it. (And it’s a short book!) I just want architecture and the conversations around architecture to be for everyone. Everyone should be able to love, appreciate, and learn about architecture because it has the power to change lives. Like I said, I’m a romantic.