In Kitchen Confidential, Anthony Bourdain writes a love letter to the kitchen industry. It inspires to celebrate life through food. Go out to eat. Order one of everything off the menu. Have that extra cocktail. Indulge in dessert! It makes you want to cook and to taste. It’s beautiful, raw, heartfelt, and real.
I’m still waiting for architecture’s love letter. Many architects have tried their hand, but they almost all turn out to be manifestos of their own agenda. For the most part, they’re self-centered and pretty boring. But, I digress, that’s not really the point of this article, and I’m trying not to be a Debbie Downer on my occupation and passion.
Back to Tony.
As an outsider to the professional cooking world, one of the most powerful takeaways from Kitchen Confidential for me is that it makes you truly appreciate the people in the culinary industry. The grind is real; the respect is lacking. The kitchen is a hot, stressful, and chaotic mess, and, the hours are endless. Even if you are at the top - executive chef or restaurant owner, the struggle to stay financially afloat and culturally significant is a constant beating.
Image courtesy of Bourdain’s Twitter Account
Bourdain explains the mindset and approach of the people chopping your mire poix, sautéing your onions, frying your french fries, grilling your steaks, and broiling your pork roast behind the stainless steel swinging doors:
“Cooking is a craft, I like to think, and a cook is a craftsman - not an artist. There’s nothing wrong with that: the great cathedrals of Europe were built by craftsmen - though not designed by them. Practicing your craft in expert fashion is noble, honorable and satisfying,” (62-63).
Bourdain goes on to suggest that artists are essentially narcissistic people who don’t care to follow anyone’s program except their own. Most certainly not a cook.
So, that begs the question - what are we, architects?
For one, we’re not craftspeople. Generally speaking, we don’t build anything. (Yes, we might make some furniture or help with finishes, but that’s really the extent of it. And, if you do these things, that’s normally beyond the traditional scope of architectural services).
As architects, we make drawings that communicate information to craftspeople. So, where does that leave us? Are we god forsaken self-infatuated artists? Some of us are, yes. But, most of us are mere orchestrators of craftspeople.
We help guide the vision and give direction. Meaning, if we want to do our job right, we need to respect and understand craftspeople and their craft.
The About Buildings and Cities podcast has two great series on Carlos Scarpa and Andrea Palladio (some episodes of Palladio have still not been released yet). Both Italian but from completely different times in history, Scarpa and Palladio are two of the most well-respected architects. And guess what. They both understood craft!
Palladio apprenticed for a stone mason for years in Vicenza and eventually worked his way up to take on his own commissions. But eventually, he would begin a new career as an architect. Scarpa collaborated with local craftsmen throughout his whole career, and he was even the artistic director of Venini, an Italian glass making company, for many years - offering new techniques to the craft.
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For Palladio, you can sense the appreciation of craft in the proportion of his projects. The use of stone adds to the monumentality and scale of the Palladian window, for instance. And Scarpa. You can sense the appreciation of craft in the materiality of his projects. The details that play with light and tactility are infused in all of his buildings.
I know that “craft” is an incredibly broad term (and, I know that I’ve said “craft” about five billion times in this blog post). But, it’s just the act of making something. And that’s the point. It’s making. It’s creating. Architecture is creating a building, and it’s important to appreciate the craft behind that creation. Perhaps a love letter to the craftspeople would do the trick.