文/阿爾伯托?坎波?巴埃薩

by ALBERTO CAMPO BAEZA

建筑如詩

文/阿爾伯托?坎波?巴埃薩

by ALBERTO CAMPO BAEZA

Architecture as Poetry

建筑的精髓在于嚴謹

我想提出的是建筑的精髓依賴于某些不可或缺的元素。建筑應具有嚴謹、依據(jù)充分、合乎邏輯且簡約的特點。

為了突出嚴謹性在建筑學中的重要地位，我斗膽將它與詩歌比較。建筑是詩歌藝術(shù)，但是有誰膽敢提出將建筑比作詩歌呢？如果有，他必須認同一種涉及建筑專業(yè)核心問題的建筑理念。

這正是我在這里想提出的問題。我提出將建筑比作詩歌，勿容贅言，這是“建筑的精髓”所在，正如詩歌對于整個文學的重要性一樣。我希望我的建筑富有最深的詩意，因此每當我將建筑比作詩歌，指的是建筑并非因一時沖動或心醉神迷而產(chǎn)生。

好的詩歌就像好的建筑一樣，具有絕對的嚴謹性。它不僅需要構(gòu)思我們想要表達的理念，而且需要用最準確的詞語在詩句和韻文中巧妙組合，表達和詮釋相應的思想。一首創(chuàng)作完成的詩不僅需要以最自然的方式表達相應意思，而且必須能以其精妙、嚴謹?shù)脑~語，打動我們的心靈，沖破時空界限，讓時間靜止。這就是詩歌藝術(shù)，而建筑也一樣。

若有人說約翰?拉斯金已經(jīng)寫過一篇題為《建筑詩情》1的文章，我會回應，除了標題相似以外，老實說這篇文章與我自身的理念沒有太大關(guān)系，事實上其內(nèi)容大不相同。這篇文章主要是作者對其最喜愛的同期建筑專著的思考，該作者還撰寫了《建筑的七盞明燈》。他的著作在維多利亞時代極具影響力，收錄了一些由華茲華斯等建筑師所著的關(guān)于別墅設計的文章（早先發(fā)表于《倫敦建筑雜志》）。然而，他并沒有真正深入探討建筑與詩歌之間的關(guān)系。雖然在《建筑的七盞明燈》2中，拉斯金提出“建筑與詩歌是遺忘的大敵”，但又同時提出“回憶”是兩者的共同之處。

有時，最為精髓的建筑藝術(shù)被冠于“極簡抽象藝術(shù)”之稱謂。雖然我不斷聽到人們談起建筑上的極簡抽象藝術(shù)，但我認為我們很難發(fā)現(xiàn)有人會簡單地在內(nèi)心深處將詩歌認同為“文學極簡主義”。事實上，大家明白詩歌是文學本身的精華所在。最優(yōu)秀的散文作家，為使其思想升華，措辭精練，都會用到詩歌表達，莎士比亞和塞萬提斯就是其中的例子。這兩位都是多產(chǎn)作家，同時也是最著名的詩人。

在某種意義上而言，哈姆雷特宣讀的不朽詩句完全體現(xiàn)了莎士比亞的十四行詩精髓， 但這也不能認為莎士比亞屬于極簡抽象派藝術(shù)家。塞萬提斯也一樣，不僅給我們帶來了他的名著《唐吉珂德》，而且讓我們對其十四行詩《伽拉泰亞》津津樂道。作為受人敬重的詩人，這兩位曠世聞名的作家在文學創(chuàng)作上達到了登峰造極的地步。

大多數(shù)時候，每篇相對短小精悍的詩文往往都富有詩情畫意，這樣的例子不勝枚舉。建筑也一樣。建筑師也會利用小型作品和短小的建筑詩篇考驗自己，這是一種好現(xiàn)象。如同詩人一樣，成功的建筑師都創(chuàng)作過一些精品小作。貝爾尼尼的圣彼得大教堂華蓋、帕拉迪奧的圓廳別墅，以及密斯?范?德?羅厄的吐根哈特住宅，都與他們的一些大型作品一樣璀璨奪目。

還有時候，作家選擇在耀眼奪目的史詩式作品中運用詩句，例如荷馬的《伊里亞特與奧德賽》、維吉爾的《埃涅伊德》，以及但丁的《神曲》。然而，我堅持認為，就這些作品的篇幅而言，無論荷馬、維吉爾還是但丁，都算不上偉大的詩人。但他們能夠讓每一行詩文產(chǎn)生美感，所以他們稱得上大師。

我認為在建筑方面也有類似情況發(fā)生。建筑藝術(shù)品質(zhì)并不是以某些作品的尺寸大小來衡量，而是以其能否讓時針停止、讓時間靜止并表現(xiàn)出美感來衡量。

嚴謹性

每當我將建筑與詩歌進行比較，我的目的是為我在上文中提及的“建筑精髓”進行辯護。我并不只是抽象地給它貼上這樣的標簽，但它確實至關(guān)重要。我嘗試從理論依據(jù)和詮釋形式方面探討問題的實質(zhì)。建筑和詩歌的共同之處是利用最基本的構(gòu)成要素來達成美感。奧克塔維奧?帕斯評論道，“詩歌必須有點干，這樣它才能充分燃燒，才能啟發(fā)和溫暖我們”。

我也曾多次引用西班牙作家瑪利亞?薩布蘭諾的話：“詩歌是文字與數(shù)字的和諧結(jié)合”。同樣也可以說：建筑是材料與度量的和諧結(jié)合，還有比這更好的定義嗎？這一定義是恰當?shù)?，因為建筑師和詩人這兩種創(chuàng)作者都必須在各自的行業(yè)里做到嚴謹、準確。

奧西普?曼德爾施塔姆很好地表達了這一理念：“詩歌中一切皆為度量；一切皆源自于度量，圍繞著度量并藉由度量”。建筑也一樣：度量和數(shù)字是核心所在。

埃德加?愛倫?坡在其隨筆文章《寫作的哲學》中回顧了其最著名詩作《烏鴉》的創(chuàng)作過程和步驟，以及最終完成的一刻：“它的創(chuàng)作并不涉及任何意外或直覺因素……創(chuàng)作過程循序漸進直至完成，其精確性和嚴謹性就像解答數(shù)學難題一樣。”這不失為嚴謹性對于藝術(shù)創(chuàng)作的重要性的一種恰當解釋。

因此，建筑師必須嚴謹，而要做到嚴謹，他必須知道自己想要創(chuàng)作什么，以及如何創(chuàng)作。在建筑學中，他必須能夠回答以下問題，然后方可開始構(gòu)劃：他想要創(chuàng)作什么？什么樣的構(gòu)思能夠應對各種具體情況下的所有設計要求？維特魯威很好地將這些問題的關(guān)鍵要素總結(jié)為他的三大建筑設計原則：“實用、堅固、美觀”。他告訴我們?nèi)绾翁幚恚绾问惯@些構(gòu)想成為現(xiàn)實，這就需要準確掌握所用材料和技術(shù)的相關(guān)知識。

同詩歌一樣，建筑中的構(gòu)想并不是散漫蕪雜的。其構(gòu)思及其所需的構(gòu)筑方式都極其嚴謹。構(gòu)想也不是一種心血來潮的突發(fā)奇想。在建筑學中，如果某一構(gòu)想不能進行實際構(gòu)筑，則該構(gòu)想無效，正如詩歌中的某一構(gòu)想如果無法用適當語言詮釋，也無效。

在這方面，雖然新的技術(shù)發(fā)明確保建筑師能夠更好地進行新的構(gòu)思，但不能采用不太成熟、完全出于奇思異想的技術(shù)來構(gòu)筑看似美好卻又激進的事物。我敢說，采用不太成熟的方法和材料且功能和結(jié)構(gòu)有缺陷的項目很可能徹底失敗。構(gòu)想的嚴謹性與其實體化過程的嚴謹性是緊密相關(guān)的。

韻律

在詩歌中，嚴謹性始于韻律，即詞語、詩句和詩節(jié)的節(jié)奏、韻腳和節(jié)拍。不言而喻的是，如果詩人想要打破屬于其語言和詩歌流派的韻律，必須對這些韻律非常了解。對詩歌韻律有深刻理解的詩人如果想要嘗試有所突破，則已占盡優(yōu)勢。

同樣，建筑師也有自己的“韻律”，這些韻律讓他知道什么情況下建筑機制與某些尺寸和比例合拍，而與其他尺寸和比例不合拍。這也是歷史上許多偉大作家在其學術(shù)作品中探討的重點，包括維特魯威的《建筑十書》、阿爾貝蒂的《論建筑藝術(shù)》、維尼奧拉的《五種柱式規(guī)范》，以及帕拉迪奧的《建筑四書》。

如果我們問問自己：密斯?范?德?羅厄的范斯沃斯住宅有什么吸引力，菲利普?約翰遜的玻璃屋缺陷是什么，我們必須重新考慮有關(guān)度量精確性的問題。密斯?范?德?羅厄憑借超凡的技術(shù)，將住宅底層的主平面提升至視平線（1.60米），從而呈現(xiàn)一種漂浮效果，使該平面變成一條幾乎消失的線。他通過測量地面與屋頂之間的精確距離，使主平面位于這一準確的水平高度。而菲利普?約翰遜則讓該平面下降到接近地平面，因此效果不甚理想。我認為玻璃屋的地面應該與地形保持一致，以實現(xiàn)整個的空間延續(xù)性。

同樣，問題的關(guān)鍵在于度量問題，或者說關(guān)于度量效果的知識；一組尺寸帶來一種效果，而另一組尺寸則帶來另一種效果。簡而言之，這是詩學意義上的韻律問題——不能讓度量淪為單純的自身尺寸問題。

因此，當“十字架上的圣約翰”在其《精神圣歌》5中寫道：“y déjame muriendo un no sé qué que quedan balbuciendo”，他不僅通過重復頭韻“qué que quedan”（放在動名詞中動詞前的斷續(xù)性詞語），將這首詩帶入情感高潮，而且還憑借對西班牙語的靈活運用，用詞準確而又嚴謹。密斯?范?德?羅厄在其范斯沃斯住宅中體現(xiàn)了相同的智慧和嚴謹性，也是我希望我的建筑所具備的嚴謹性。

真理

柏拉圖將美定義為真理的光環(huán)。這一觀點與幾個世紀后圣奧古斯丁的觀點遙相呼應。真與美之間的這種不可分割的關(guān)系再次在英國最享譽盛名的建筑學院——倫敦建筑聯(lián)盟學院（AA）6的?；罩械靡泽w現(xiàn)，其校訓為“設計以美、建筑以真”。

如果建筑藝術(shù)的精華只緣于幾種元素，那是因為所有這些元素都是必要而又真實的。沒有任何一個元素是多余或缺少的，每個元素都有最大的亮點和效果。因此，建筑藝術(shù)精華之美來自這一真理。

最偉大的建筑作品的設計美感必須反映建筑師夢寐以求的真理，并且建筑師應重在確保構(gòu)思及構(gòu)思實體化之真理能夠綻放于作品的美感之中。

我希望我的作品中的設計美感能夠反映作為一種構(gòu)思所衍生的，并能指導其實體化過程的真理。

真與美，兩者不可分割。而且在建筑中，它們必然會在理性的指導下得以實現(xiàn)。因此，托馬斯主義者對真理的定義確實很適合用在建筑中：“Veritas est adecuatio rei et intellectus”——真理是事物與智慧之間的對應關(guān)系。

據(jù)尤瑟夫?皮柏7回顧，當康德將真理與現(xiàn)實畫上等號時，他已經(jīng)扼殺了“事物的真理“這一概念。然而，在哲學上存在爭議的東西，在建筑中卻十分明確： 所有建筑都是真實的，既不抽象，也非形而上學。另一方面，建筑中明顯的實際存在不一定代表它就是真實的。

只有當建筑在概念上、構(gòu)思上和物質(zhì)表達上皆為真實的時候，才能實現(xiàn)美感。也就是說，當建筑出于具體、成熟的構(gòu)思，結(jié)構(gòu)連貫，并與邏輯排列材料保持一致的的時候，才能實現(xiàn)美感。簡而言之，這種建筑符合維特魯威的三大原則：實用、堅固、美觀。只有當構(gòu)想、開發(fā)、結(jié)構(gòu)和構(gòu)造皆為真實時，才能實現(xiàn)美感。我們應記住，維特魯威認為，要達到美觀，首先要精準地達到實用性和堅固性。

因此，基于顯而易見的理由，放眼今日，我們看到的許多建筑都缺乏吸引力。隨意和膚淺等缺點取代了維特魯威所說的優(yōu)點，前者導致一種在我們手中支離破碎的當代建筑。要為建筑的未來開辟新的途徑，我們必須回到起點。

貝特洛?萊伯金81982年被授予皇家金獎時，他在皇家建筑師協(xié)會（RIBA）的演講結(jié)束之際精辟地說道：

“歌德不愿濫用神經(jīng)質(zhì)般的修辭手法，拒絕追隨當時盛行的那種令人晦澀難懂的文風。面對痛苦、動蕩和黑暗恐懼的重重包圍，他利用具有理性脈絡結(jié)構(gòu)的詩歌創(chuàng)作去挑戰(zhàn)那些荒唐的做法，完全體現(xiàn)了其古典式的沉穩(wěn)、邏輯有序和清晰易懂的風格。他建議畫家應理性作畫，建筑師應追隨溫克爾曼的思想，做到既莊嚴肅穆，又高貴而不失簡約。歌德希望世人記住的是他的充滿自信的人文精神，他的沉穩(wěn)克制和理性內(nèi)斂，對此，我不容置疑。與之相比，我也一樣?！?/p>

重量

言語無重量，它們不需要遵循萬有引力定律，而建筑材料則無可避免地受到萬有引力定律的約束。

雖然好的作品通常用詞簡潔，但用更多的詞加以修飾也未嘗不可，所謂的“巴洛克風格”作家們正是這么做的。不過，正如W.斯特倫克和E.B.懷特在《風格元素》中所述，最好“省略多余的詞語”。

然而在建筑中，單純從經(jīng)濟角度上說，采用不必要的元素必然會帶來過于昂貴的成本。此外，這還會造成重量增加，而且由于重力原因，會使建筑物承受更大的壓力。年長而理智的富勒曾經(jīng)巧妙地問年輕的福斯特：“你的建筑有多重呢，福斯特先生？”9，這是一種極具教育意義的對于嚴謹性的詮釋方式。

超越

斯蒂芬?茨威格于1940年在布宜諾斯艾利斯所作的《藝術(shù)創(chuàng)作的秘訣》10講座中評論道：“當我得知人類還被賦予了創(chuàng)造持久價值的能力，并且我們通過世上最高層次的努力，即通過藝術(shù)，我們與永恒的事物永遠聯(lián)結(jié)在一起，沒有什么比這更讓人高興和滿意的事情了?！?/p>

他的話可以恰當?shù)刈鳛榇宋牡奈灿?。如果我們將“藝術(shù)創(chuàng)作”一詞替換成建筑，這個標題同樣完全成立。

同樣，海德格爾在其《時間概念》一文中呼吁人們要了解史實。而這正是我們建筑師的奮斗目標，以完成一部能夠超越自我、足以讓我們名垂青史并經(jīng)得起時間考驗而富有詩意的精品大作。

附言

在我的講座中，我解釋說，為了使紀念博物館與現(xiàn)有的卡哈格拉納達儲蓄銀行中央總部（“立方體”）保持一致，我只需將這兩座建筑物的裙樓對齊。11這兩個外立面在主干道上對齊，并且由于其高度相同，意味著兩者能夠相互一致呼應。我還向我的學生解釋說，就像詩歌一樣，我采用了詩歌中用詞統(tǒng)一、嚴謹一致的相同原理。

我還告訴他們，格拉納達紀念博物館的主樓就像“立方體的切片”一樣，因為它有著相同的寬度和高度，使這兩座建筑物能和諧一致，12就像詩歌中的文字一樣。

我繼續(xù)解釋我如何嘗試在現(xiàn)有建筑基礎上建造另一座建筑，從而創(chuàng)造一座新城。就像一首由不同詩句組成的偉大史詩一樣，這座新城將由布局相互和諧協(xié)調(diào)的多座建筑物組成。曼哈頓城市網(wǎng)絡方案正是如何在建筑中融入這首偉大史詩的詩句達成自由和有序結(jié)合的精妙范例。

當我著手處理蘭薩羅特項目時，我采用了黑色混凝土，混合干燥火山巖作為砂礫，我的目標是使建筑物融入大平臺所處的火山巖地形中，消失于其中。13通過這樣的布局，我創(chuàng)造了和諧。就像自由體詩一樣，這一偉大杰作會呈現(xiàn)一種若隱若現(xiàn)的效果，就像詩歌中的文字始終處于和諧狀態(tài)一樣。

采用同一種詩歌藝術(shù)手段或建筑設計原理，我為“無際住宅”（以羅馬洞石建造的箱式住宅）設計了一個很好的平臺。14一方面，金色的弗拉米尼奧洞石與金色沙灘完美搭配，產(chǎn)生與蘭薩羅特建筑物上的黑色火山炭異曲同工的效果。在這種情況下，洞石體現(xiàn)了多個世紀前這個區(qū)域曾經(jīng)存在的羅馬文明，附近波隆尼亞的遺跡也證實了這一點。

格拉納達的綜合建筑、蘭薩羅特的木炭混凝土，以及無際住宅的羅馬洞石，它們不都是為了創(chuàng)造一種能夠產(chǎn)生美感而又富有詩意的和諧嗎？

On Precision. For an essential architecture

I wish to propose an essential architecture that limits itself to an indispensable number of elements. Architecture that is precise and well founded, logical and simple.

And because I wish to highlight the importance of precision in Architecture I dare to compare it to Poetry. Architecture is poetry, but would anyone dare propose architecture as poetry? If so, it would have to acknowledge a conception of architecture that goes to the very heart of the questions that the discipline itself poses.

This is exactly what I propose to do here. I will propose that architecture as poetry, without adjectives, is an “essential architecture”, as essential as poetry is to literature as a whole. I’d like that my architecture be poetic, in the deepest sense of the word, so when I propose architecture as poetry, I mean that architecture arises neither from sudden impulse nor fit of ecstasy.

Good poetry, like good architecture, is implacably precise. It not only requires an idea of what we want to say with it, but that its generating idea be expressed –translated– with very accurate words which, moreover, are judiciously placed in relation to each other within the verse and stanza. Once constructed, besides representing its meaning with the utmost naturalness, the poem’s delicate verbal precision must be able to move our hearts –to rupture and suspend time. That is poetry, and likewise architecture.

Should someone remark that John Ruskin already wrote a text entitled “The Poetry of Architecture”,1I would reply that, except in name, it honestly has little to do with my own conception; its contents are in fact very diverse. The text in question, from the same author who penned The Seven Lamps of Architecture, is largely a meditation on some of his favourite architectural works of his time. His book, which was very influential in Victorian times, is a collection of articles (previously published in London’s Architectural Magazine) on villas by architects like Wordsworth. However, he did not really delve into the deeper meaning of the relationship between architecture and poetry. Notwithstanding in “The Seven Lamps of Architecture”,2Ruskin puts forward the proposal that “Architecture and Poetry are the great enemies of oblivion”, while defending Memory as their common ground.

Sometimes the most essential architectures are dubbed as minimalist. Although I hear continuous talk about minimalism in architecture, I think we would be hard pressed to find a single soul who would accuse poetry of “l(fā)iterary minimalism”. In fact, everyone understands that poetry is a distillation of literature itself. The best writers of literary prose have turned to poetry when they wanted to distil their ideas and refine their words, as Shakespeare3and Cervantes did. Both were prolific writers, but equally poets of the highest rank.

The quality of Shakespeare’s sonnets is in every sense on a par with the immortal verses pronounced by Hamlet. Nor could he be considered minimalist. The same is true of Cervantes who, apart from providing us with his renowned Don Quixote, delights us with the charming sonnets of “La Galatea”. Writers of universal acclaim, they both reached the pinnacle of literary creation as sublime poets.

Most of the time, poetry appears in relatively short individual poems, of which we could call numerous examples to mind. The same occurs in architecture. It is good that architects also test themselves with small works, with little architectonic poems. There is no architect worth his weight in salt who has not made some small work of high quality, as if it were a poem. Bernini in his Baldacchino in St. Peter’s, Palladio in the Villa Rotonda and Mies Van der Rohe in his Tugendhat House, are as brilliant as when they produce some of their larger works.

At other times, writers choose verse for dazzling, epic texts, such as Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, Virgil’s Aeneid, or Dante’s Divine Comedy. I insist however, that neither Homer, nor Virgil nor Dante are the greater poets on account of the size of these works. They are masters because of their capacity to invoke Beauty in each and every verse.

I think something similar happens in architecture. The quality of Architecture is not measured in terms of the large dimensions of certain works. It is measured by their capacity to stop the hands of the clock, to hold time in suspension and in their expression of Beauty.

PRECISION

When I compare or identify architecture with poetry, I do so for reasons that lead me to defend what I called above “essential architecture”. I do not just label it this way abstractly, it actually is essential. I try to go to the heart of the question, as much in the ideas that support it as well as in its forms of translation. What architecture and poetry have in common is the achievement of beauty by means of no more than the bare essential number of elements from which they are constructed. As Octavio Paz astutely observed, “poetry must be a bit dry so it can burn well, and so enlighten and warm us”.

On numerous occasions, I have also quoted the Spanish writer María Zambrano when she said that poetry is “the word in harmony with the number”. What better definition for architecture, which is precisely that: materials in harmony with measure? It is fitting because both types of creators, architects and poets, must be precise and accurate by virtue of the craft itself.

奧尼克-斯帕努住宅 Olnick Spanu House

Osip Mandelstam expresses this concept so well: “Everything in Poetry is measure-ment; everything derives from, rotates around and through measurement”. In architecture it is the very same: measurements and numbers are central.

Edgar Allan Poe, in his essay “Philosophy of Composition”4recalls to mind the creative processes and progressive steps in the creation of his most famous poem“The Raven” and how it attained its ultimate point of completion: “no one point in its composition is referable either to accident or intuition ...the work proceeded step by step, to its completion, with the precision and rigid consequence of a mathematical problem”. Not a bad definition of the importance of precision in artistic creation.

Therefore, an architect must be precise, and to be precise he must know what he wants to make and how he has to go about making it. Architecture demands he be able to respond to its questions before he begins construction: what does he want to make? What idea can respond to all the requirements that design demands in each specific case? Vitruvius summed up the key terms of these questions so well in his three principles of architectural design, “Utilitas, Firmitas, and Venustas”. And he told us how to go about it, how to materialize such ideas, which requires precise knowledge of the materials and the techniques involved.

In architecture, as in poetry, the idea is not something diffuse. Both the idea and the means required to construct it, are tremendously precise. An idea is not a notion, a mere whim. In architecture, an idea is not valid if it cannot be materially constructed, just as an idea would not be valid in poetry if it could not be translated into appropriate words. In this vein, while the invention of new technologies ensures that the architect can conceive of new ideas better, it is not valid to use an unproven technology that one has only dreamt about for constructing something that seems beautiful and radical. I guarantee that an endeavour violating function and structure, by means of unproven methods and materials, will likely fail in all respects. Precision in ideas and precision in their materialization go hand in hand.

METRICS

In poetry, precision starts with meter –the rhythm, rhyme, and beat of words, verses, and stanzas. This is self-evident by dint of the observation that should a poet even wish to break the rules of metrics that belong to his or her language and poetic genre, he or she must already know them very well. A poet with a deep learning of poetic meter has already gained the upper hand should he or she wish to turn the tables in experimentation.

An architect, likewise, has his own “metrics” that allows him to know when an architectural mechanism works with certain measures and proportions, but not with others. This has been the focus of the scholarly works of many great writers throughout history from Vitruvius in his ten books “De Architectura” to Alberti with his “De Re Aedificatoria”, from Vignola with his “Regola delle cinque ordini d′Architectura”, to Palladio in his “Quattro Libri dell′Architettura”.

When we ask ourselves what is so fascinating about Mies van der Rohe’s Farnsworth House, and what is lacking in Philip Johnson’s Glass House, we must return to this kind of consideration relating to the precision of measurement. Mies van der Rohe, with great skill, raises the main plane of the ground floor of the house to eye level (1.60 meters) so that it fl oats, so that the plane becomes a line, almost disappearing. And he measures the precise distance between the ground and roof to achieve this exact horizontality. Philip Johnson, on the other hand, leaves that plane farther down almost at ground level, and fewer things happen. I would argue that the floor of Glass House ought to have been even with the terrain in order to achieve complete spatial continuity.

Again, at the crux of the matter is the issue of measure, or better yet, the knowledge of the effect of measure; with one set of measurements one thing happens, and with another set, yet other things. In short, it is a question of metrics in the poetic sense–measure not reduced to mere measurement in and of itself.

Thus, when Saint John of the Cross in his Spiritual Canticle5writes: “y déjame muriendo un no sé qué que quedan balbuciendo”, not only does he bring the poem to its climax of feeling when he repeats in a sublime alliteration, “qué que quedan”, a stutter that precedes the verb in the gerund, but he does so with a maximum precision that profits from his deep dexterity with the Spanish language. It is the same wisdom and precision that Mies van der Rohe uses in Farnsworth House; the same precision that I want for my architecture.

TRUTH

Plato defined Beauty as the splendour of Truth. And Saint Augustine echoes these sentiments centuries later. And yet again that indissoluble relationship between Truth and Beauty is reflected on the coat of arms of the AA,6the Architectural Association in London, the most prestigious architectural school in the UK, with the motto: “Design with Beauty, Build in Truth”.

If essential architecture uses but few elements, it is because all are necessary and all are true. Not a single one is in excess or deficiency, and each acts with the highest intensity and efficacy. In this way, essential architecture’s beauty comes from that truth.

奧尼克-斯帕努住宅 Olnick Spanu House

The desired beauty of the greatest works of architecture must be a reflection of the coveted truth with which architects should work, focusing their efforts on ensuring that the truth of the conceived idea and the truth with which it materializes are ca-pable of blossoming in the beauty of their works.

I want the beauty I envision in my works to be a reflection of the truth from which it derives as an idea and which, in turn, guides it in its materialization.

These two, beauty and truth, are inseparable, and furthermore, in architecture they will always come to fruition under the guiding hand of reason. Hence that Thomistic definition of truth that indeed suits Architecture so very well: “Veritas est adecuatio rei et intellectus” – truth is the correspondence between the thing and the intellect.

Josef Pieper7recalls that the concept of “the truth of things” was obliterated by Kant when he identified truth with reality. But what in philosophy is disputable, in Architecture is very clear: all built architecture is real, not abstract and not metaphysical. On the other hand, evident and real presence in architecture does not necessarily mean that it is also true.

Only when Architecture is true, in its conception, in its idea, and in its material expression can it gain access to beauty. It does this when it is the result of a specific and developed idea that is laid down in a coherent structure and remains consonant with logically arranged materials. In short, this architecture fulfills the Vitruvian principles of Utilitas, Firmitas and Venustas. Only when the idea, the development, the structure, and the construction are true can it arrive at the level of aesthetic beauty. We must remember that, for Vitruvius, the achievement of Venustas demanded prior and exact fulfillment of Utilitas and Firmitas.

For obvious reasons then, a great deal of the architecture we see put up today is of little interest. The vices of self-indulgence and superficiality have taken the place of the Vitruvian virtues, and the former are giving rise to a kind of contemporary architecture that crumbles and falls apart in our hands. To forge new paths for the future of architecture, we will have to return to the start.

How well Berthold Lubetkin8put it in the closing of his speech to the RIBA when he was awarded the Royal Gold Medal in 1982:

“Goethe rejected the easy option of neurotic rhetoric, refused to share the fashionable enthusiasm for the inexplicable. Surrounded on all sides by anguish, turbulence, and shadowy dread, he challenges the folly of events by producing a reasoned grid of his poems, the very embodiment of classical calm, ordered logic and lucid clarity. He advised painters to dip their brushes in reason, and architects to follow Winckelmann′s instructions to aim at calm grandeur and noble simplicity. I have no doubt that it was for this humanist attitude full of confidence, his calm restraint and rational cohesion that Goethe wished to be remembered. And, mutatis mutandis, so I do.”

WEIGHT

Words have no weight; they are not subject to the laws of gravity to which the materials of architecture are inexorably bound.

Though good writing uses words sparingly, it doesn’t cost anything to use more words, as so-called “baroque” writers tend to do. It is preferable, however, to “omit needless words” as W.Strunk and E.B.White prescribe in “The Elements of Style”.

In architecture, however, simply from an economic point of view, the use of more elements than is necessary always turns out to be excessively costly. Moreover, it also entails an increase in weight which, because of gravity, would put greater stresses on the structure. With age and reason on his side, Fuller wisely asked the young Foster –“How much do your buildings weigh, Mr. Foster?”9A very pedagogical way of speaking of precision.

TO TRANSCEND

Stefan Zweig once remarked during his 1940 Buenos Aires lecture, “The Secret of Artistic Creation”,10“I am not aware of a greater delight and satisfaction than in noting that it is also given to man to create lasting values and that we remain eternally united to the Eternal by means of our supreme effort on earth: by means of art.”

His words can serve as a suitable colophon to this text. If we were to replace the phrase “artistic creation” with architecture, both titles would make perfect sense.

Similarly Heidegger in his “The Concept of Time” calls for an understanding of historicity. And that is what we architects should strive to achieve: an essential, poetic work that will be capable of transcending ourselves, capable of writing our names in the history books, capable of remaining indelible in time.

ADDENDA

德布拉斯住宅 De Blas House

In my lectures I explain how in order to bring the Museum of Memory in line withthe existing Central Headquarters of the Caja Granada Savings Bank, “the Cube”, I merely had to align the podiums of the two buildings.11This alignment of the two facades onto the main avenue, coupled with the fact that their height is the same, means that they both echo one another in unison. And I explain to my students how, just like in poetry, I simply employ the same mechanisms as those of a poem when the words are in unison, when they agree with precision.

And I tell them that the main building of the Granada Museum of Memory is like a“slice of the cube”, because it has the same width and height, immediately bringing the two buildings into line.12Like the words in a poem.

I go on to relate how I endeavoured, with the creation of a second building along with the existing one, to create the new city. Similar to a great epic poem composed of separate verses, this new city would be made up of many buildings arranged in harmony with one another. The Manhattan grid plan is a fine example of how to accommodate the verses of that great epic poem in a structure that combines freedom and order.

When I embark on the Lanzarote project in black concrete, made with dry volcanic lava as gravel, my aim is for the building to disappear as it melts into the volcanic lava terrain in which the great platform is embedded.13With this arrangement I am simply producing harmony. Like free verse in poetry the great piece appears as if it was always there, and just like any poem, as if its words had always been so fine-tuned.

Using the same kind of poetic device or architectural mechanism, I have devised a great platform for the House of the Infinite, a large crate made of Roman travertine.14On the one hand, the golden Flaminio travertine matches perfectly with the golden sand of the beach, with the same effect as the black color of the volcanic charcoal on the building in Lanzarote. In this case the travertine gives expression to the Roman presence in the area so many centuries ago, as borne out by the remains at nearby Bolonia.

The ensemble of volumes in Granada, the charcoal concrete in Lanzarote and the Roman travertine in the House of the Infinite, what are they all but an attempt to establish a poetic harmony capable of evoking Beauty?

NOTES

1. The poetry of Architecture. John Ruskin. 1836.

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/17774/17774-h/17774-h.htm

2. The seven lamps of Architecture. John Ruskin. 1849.

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35898/35898-h/35898-h.htm

3. Sonnet 18. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Shakespeare.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ngZY8coaWMg&feature=related

4. Philosophy of Composition. Edgar Allan Poe. 1846.

http://www.literatura.us/idiomas/eap_metodo.html

5. The Spiritual Canticle. Saint John of the Cross.

http://users.ipfw.edu/jehle/poesia/canticoe.htm

6. Coat of Arms, Architectural Association, London.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Architectural_Association_School_of_Architecture

7. The truth of things, a forgotten concept. Josef Pieper.

http://www.hottopos.com/mp2/verd_olvi.htm

8. Speech. RIBA Royal Gold Medal. Berthold Lubetkin, 1982.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/campobaeza/8189538097/in/set-72157632020177813/ lightbox/

9. How much does your building weigh, Mr. Foster?

http://www.mrfostermovie.com/

10. The Secret of Artistic Creation. Stefan Zweig. 1940.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/campobaeza/8190657214/in/set-72157632020177813/ lightbox/

11. Caja Granada and Andalusia’s Museum of Memory. Alberto Campo Baeza

http://www.flickr.com/photos/campobaeza/8185841969/in/set-72157619496997344/ lightbox/

12. Caja Granada and Andalusia’s Museum of Memory. Alberto Campo Baeza

http://www.flickr.com/photos/campobaeza/8185879120/in/set-72157619496997344/ lightbox/

13. Center for Nature Interpretation. Salinas de Janubio. Alberto Campo Baeza

http://www.flickr.com/photos/campobaeza/7084238749/in/set-72157629466848956/ lightbox/

14. House of the Infinite. Alberto Campo Baeza.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/campobaeza/6938141972/in/set-72157629831893717/lightbox/

無際住宅 House of the Infinite