Head
and Tail,
2013
Granite,
wood, ceramic, acrylic, plaster, pencil , 74 x 10 x 22
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Monday, February 25, 2013
From "Vertigo"
“It
is only a question of discovering how we can get ourselves attached
to it again”
-a
drawing by Vija Celmins
I
practice interruption to get used to it, get up to get the cup
and
then sit down, go out to look at the sign on the corner, sit
down,
open the book to 37, “Moon Surface [Luna 9],” close
it,
open my mouth to get used to what it says and then
in
some weathers, it’s offered up freely and you have to
cover
the books in plastic, remember to take it with you just in case
and
you have to be grateful not to think things up.
Her
surface drawings put one squarely on the moon
and
there’s nothing to take your mind off it, no one brings coffee,
and
she’s reminded of a scene where the actor talks about how
he’s
scared to leap off a balcony and then he finally leaps.
Someone
keeps coming to the door, someone makes a mark
like
graphite until it builds up slowly on the surface.
Martha
Ronk,“Vertigo,” 2007.
Hessian
Identity
and product designer Ben Pierrat
offers a complete brand identity for sale. His brand Hessian
comes with a name, website, diverse style elements, many logos and
all the other elements that make a good identity. The only thing the
buyer has to come up with is the product or service that the brand
wants to sale.
Under
Creative Commons License: Attribution
Non-Commercial
Training in hammering
Training in hammering from the Russian Central Institute of Work and its Methods and Means for Training Workers. Management engineering : The Journal of Production (New York) 4 , no 4 (april1923), 243. This photograph documents a typical training exercise at TsIT-in this case , a worker being instructed by a mannikin in the art of hammering. The mannikin's two left arms demonstrate the correct posture of the arm relative to the body at the start and conclusion of its swing. Mannikins, templates, jigs, training frames, and photo-cyclograms are often used at TsIT in the construction of unskilled workers in correct body postures and work motions.
Source : Maria Gough, The Artist As Producer: Russian Constructivism in Revolution, Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2005.
Yπονόμευση
Την
Παρασκευή πρώτη του Μάρτη στις 7:30 το
απόγευμα. Ανοικτή συμποσιακή συζήτηση,
στο SalonDeVortex με αφορμή την “Υπονόμευση
(-του ξενοδοχείου-) της Μεγάλης Βρετανίας,
το Δεκέμβρη του 44 από τον ΕΛΑΣ”
Συζήτηση
επί του πολιτικού εδάφους της Αθήνας,
με αφορμή μια πρωτοφανή και μοναδική
διαμάχη στο υπέδαφος της, και την κορύφωση
της σύγκρουσης των Ελλήνων με την
Βρετανική Αυτοκρατορία.
Η μορφή των
παρεμβάσεων είναι ανοικτή.
Τα
γεγονότα θα παρουσιάσει επι χάρτου ο
ιστορικός Τάσος Σακελαρόπουλος. Στην
κουβέντα έχουν κληθεί να συμμετάσχουν
οι:
Ηλίας
Μαρμαράς. Νίκος Σκοπλάκης, Ελένη Γκίνη,
Θεόφιλος Τραμπούλης, Κατερινα Ηλιοπούλου,
Γιώργος Τζιρτζιλάκης, Αλέξανδρος
Κιουπκιολής, Νίκος Μπελαβίλας, Γιάννα
Μπαρκούτα, Κωστής Βελώνης, Νάντια Καλαρά
, Φοίβη Γιαννίση, Ιωάννα Λαλιώτου,
Πολυμέρης Βόγλης, Γιάννης Ιωαννίδης,
Χριστόφορος Μαρίνος, Μαρία Τοπάλη,
Αντριάννα Καλφοπούλου, Αλίκη Σαμαρά,
Σταύρος Σταυρίδης.
Μαζί με τον Ζήση
Κοτιώνη συντονίζουν για το SalonDeVortex οι
Γιάννης Γρηγοριάδης και Γιάννης
Ισιδώρου.Φράσεις και λέξεις κλειδιά:
απώθηση, συλλογικό τραύμα, λήθη, ήττα,
αρχείο, εποπτεία, περιφρούρηση,
οριοθετήσεις της πόλης, νεοαποικιοκρατία,
νομιμότητα και ανατροπή, κατακτητής,
επιστροφή του αποθυμένου, υπονόμευση,
αστικό ασυνείδητο, ένοπλη σύγκρουση,
πολιτικό έδαφος, ιστορία και νόημα, το
παρόν του παρελθοντος
Monday, February 11, 2013
Conical Hat
A
piece of stiff brown cardboard cut in the shape of a conical hat.
Holes have been drilled in the crown to form a decorative pattern. An
additional strip of reinforcing cardboard has been attached to the
base of the hat with one rivet at one end, two at the other. The
costume hat is worn by Kolitiris, a character in the centuries-old
Greek Shadow Puppet Theatre (Karaghiozis) tradition. Kolitiris wears
it in the Introduction of every performance as part of his costume in
order to change his appearance to make it more comical.
This
costume hat was made in the 1960s by the Greek puppeteer and popular
artist Abraam (Antonakos) in his Athens workshop, and used in
performances in Greece during the 1960s. This and most of the puppets
in the collection were brought to Australia by Abraam Antonakos for
his performances at the Astor Theatre in Melbourne in 1977. He then
left the collection with Dimitri Katsoulis who used them in all his
subsequent performances in Victoria and in South Australia from 1978
to 1991.Dimitri Katsoulis migrated to Australia in 1974 to escape a
regime that repressed Greek artists. He had trained in Greece with
theatre and film companies as an actor and technician. A master of
the traditional Greek shadow puppet theatre, his performances
explored contemporary issues such as the isolation of migrant women
and children. Unable to obtain funding and support, he returned to
Greece in 1991, leaving his entire collection to the people of
Victoria. It includes 32 shadow puppets and around 170 props, set
backdrops and technical tools and stage equipment. Dimitri has since
returned to Melbourne and assists the Museum to continue to document
this rich art form within both local and international contexts.
http://museumvictoria.com.au
Sunday, February 10, 2013
What Do We Mean by Autonomy?
What Do We Mean by Autonomy?
A review of Lisa Siraganian, Modernism’s Other Work: The Art Object’s Political Life. Oxford University Press, 2012.
Text by Todd Cronan.
A review of Lisa Siraganian, Modernism’s Other Work: The Art Object’s Political Life. Oxford University Press, 2012.
Text by Todd Cronan.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Larynx during pronounciation of letters
John
Wilkins, An
essay towards a real character and a philosophical language, London,
1668.
Behind the Presidential Curtains
One
of the many huge velvet curtains in the palace of the parliament in
Bucharest, designed by the
Ceausescu
regime, 2013.
The Door in the Sky
A
flight of stairs, leading to a door
marked “EXIT”
“The
Truman Show”, 1998.
Director:Peter Weir, Writer:Andrew
Niccol.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
What is the meaning of philosophy of politics
In
Plato’s Theaetetus Protagoras
insisted that one should not persuade the other of what is true in
relation to what is false because no one has ever succeeded in doing
so and most of all because truth in itself is not the issue in
political discussions, debates, and deliberations. But there is one
thing that Protagoras wanted to persuade people about, namely
improvement. From the point of view of ancient Greek politics, this
is all that can be done: We can strive to achieve a better situation,
which inevitably will require further improvement. But if nothing but
improvements can be hoped for, then “truth” or the “good”
have no place in this progress because they presuppose final
achievements, accomplishments, and results. The point of Protagoras
is that one should never persuade people of what is good—only of
the need for improvement.
According
to the late American philosopher Richard
Rorty,
while philosophy has anything to do with truth, it has nothing to do
with politics motivated solely by search for improvements, as
Protagoras explained. The metaphysical or Platonic image of
philosophy as a reflection of eternal problems that continuously
assail the human mind is not adequate anymore because there are no
fundamental philosophical essences left after the deconstruction of
metaphysics. If culture is subject to continuous social changes,
philosophy can solve those particular problems by interpreting and
suggesting further developments and applications. This is why, as
Rorty recalls, a philosopher like John Dewey had “abandoned the
idea that one can say how things really are, as opposed to how they
might best be described in order to meet some particular human
need.”(1) Rorty, just as Dewey, was in agreement with the
deconstructors of “metaphysics of presence” that included
Nietzsche, Freud, and Heidegger, because they showed how objectivity
is more a matter of intersubjective consensus among human beings than
an accurate representation of something nonhuman. These
deconstructors of metaphysics freed human beings from disagreement
since they showed that the resolution of disagreement cannot appeal
to the way the world really is since there is no single reality but a
multiplicity of realities that depend on different needs. The
resolution, explains Rorty, can only be “political: one must use
democratic institutions and procedures to conciliate these various
needs, and thereby widen the range of consensus about how things
are.”(2)
It
is in Rorty’s neopragmatic thought that we will find the meaning of
philosophy for politics after the deconstruction of metaphysics
because his analyses are not a part of but, rather, the outcome of
this deconstruction. If the last great deconstructor of metaphysics,
Derrida, showed us how conceptual distinctions such as
objective-subjective, true-false, man-woman, faith-knowledge, are
only the beginnings and the end points of a ladder we must throw
away, Rorty indicated what to do with such ladder. Questioning
whether the justifications these deconstructors use to confirm their
thesis are metaphysical is, on the other hand, a way of falling back
into metaphysics because there is no natural order capable of
justifying their beliefs, nor is there any meta-way beyond
argumentation that may justify justifications. Searching for these
criteria is not very useful for justification in itself because
philosophy has always been characterized by the compromises on
concrete and particular issues, from which it is impossible to deduct
a general verification-rule. After the deconstruction of metaphysics
we may stop asking what is real and what is not since “only if we
drop the whole idea of ‘correspondence with reality’ can we avoid
pseudo-problems.” If reality does not present itself, but it is us
that linguistically give meaning to the world, the
justification of knowledge will not depend on the permanent
conditions of knowledge since justification is a social phenomenon,
rather than a relation between knowledge and reality. Knowledge,
after deconstruction, is not the possession of an essence, but a
right—the right between arguments upon which it is relatively easy
to obtain a non-enforced agreement, in other words, “the ability to
get agreement by using persuasion rather than force.”
Having
said this, it is clear that the so-called “free Socratic exchange
of public opinions” does not rely on the Platonic idea of a
universal possible agreement since truth, understood as a previous
order, is irrelevant for the correct functioning of democracies.
While intellectuals, regardless of their ideological position,
believe that political actions demand nonpolitical (that is,
philosophical) foundations, they will continue to express a desire
for the philosophical authorities these principles depend upon. But
requiring a philosophical or religious prologue to politics means
that “Philosophy” is in itself the search for such an authority,
a research where “reason” has the same function that God once
had, when “philosophy is [really] an attempt to see how ‘things,
in the largest sense of the term, hang together.”(3) Also, what
justifies a conception of justice is not its adequacy to a
philosophical or religious order that is given, but rather its
congruency with that understanding of our traditions which is rooted
in the private and public life we are all immersed in. As Hans-Georg
Gadamer once said “the difficulty lies not in our not knowing the
truth, or the politician not knowing the truth, or his not needing to
know the truth. Here Rorty is correct – anyone who engages in
politics can’t simply desire the true or the good exactly – it’s
undoubtedly correct to say that he orients his own action and conduct
with a view to the pragmatic. One can’t simply dispense with what
the good politician would have or should have been able to
understand, or what he has personally been able to observe in the
practical situation. On the contrary, we see that this farsighted
discernment of the politician is very often what is decisive in life
praxis – much like it is with the businessman.”(4)
Text
by Santiago Zabala.
Santiago
Zabala is ICREA Research Professor of Philosophy at the University of
Barcelona.
- R. Rorty, Achieving Our Country (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press 1998, 34). (2) R. Rorty, Achieving Our Country, 35. (3) R. Rorty, Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature, (Oxford: Blackwell, 1996, 114). (4) Hans-Georg Gadamer, A Century of Philosophy, (with R. Dottori) New York London: Continuum, 2000, 43.
Source : http://www.project-syndicate.org
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Tell me, Desert Draftsman
Tell
me, Desert Draftsman,
Geometer of the quicksands,
Is it true,
that unrestrained lines
Are more powerful than the blowing wind?
—
I don't care about the
trembling
Of his Judaic troubles. —
He shapes experience from
babble,
And drinks babble from the experience.
November
1933, Moscow
Скажи
мне, чертёжник пустыни,
Сыпучих песков
геометр,
Ужели безудержность
линий
Сильнее, чем дующий ветр?
—
Меня не касается
трепет
Его иудейских забот —
Он опыт
из лепета лепит
И лепет из опыта пьёт.
Ноябрь
1933 — январь 1934
Osip
Mandelstam, from “Moscow Notebooks”.Translated from Russian by
Dmitri Smirnov
Hell As Pavilion
Kostis Velonis, A Sea of troubles, 2012,wood, oil, acrylic ,62 x 41 x 6 cm, private collection
Hell
as pavilion / Hell as text / Hell as art practice / Hell as
exhibition / Hell as method / Hell as modus operandi / Hell as modus
vivendi / Hell as exodus
“Hell As Pavilion” is an
exhibition that examines the question of “being contemporary”
within a culture in crisis. It is conceived as a strange fresco gone
wild, an inhabited migrant wall of “horrible mixtures,” which
brings together Greek artists from various generations, explores a
neglected field of rhizomatic relationships and unexpected
affinities, and urges us to “read history in unforeseen ways,” to
imagine into existence new mobile and minor networks. With a title
inspired by the briefly glimpsed “HELL AS” in Jean-Luc Godard’s
Film Socialisme, the Greek Pavilion could be understood as a
fantasma, a premonition or a twinge of remorse, a disturbing
idiorrythmy, the monster (teras) par excellence in the current temps
des crises. The European bête noire hangs on a wall in an
undetermined borderline condition considered here as a possible
tactic; a laboratory of the para-logon (that which lies next to and
beyond logos/ reason); a precarious position from which current takes
on humanism, punishment, radicalization, the collective and the
connective can be reexamined.
“Hell
As Pavilion” can be perceived as a toolbox for the understanding of
various Greek paraloga in the rather common and unsettled struggle to
“be in” the present; as a chance to consider the viability of
deviations, abnormalities and inconsistencies, in the xaos (chaos) of
a situation where nations, states and all kinds of entities suspect
and monster one another for economic misconduct and “lack of
progress.”Curated by
Nadja Argyropoulou.
List
of artists:
Alexis Akrithakis, Loukia Alavanou, Vlassis Caniaris, Savvas
Christodoulides, Costis, Dimitris Dimitriadis, Antonis Donef, Andreas
Embiricos, Nikos Engonopoulos, Haris Epaminonda, Stelios Faitakis,
Takis Giannousas, Hollow Airport Museum (Nikos Charalambidis), Lakis
& Aris Ionas/The Callas, Vassilis Karouk, Andreas Ragnar
Kassapis, kavecs/Vana Kostayola & Kostis Stafylakis, Anja
Kirschner & David Panos, Panos Koutrouboussis,Thanos
Kyriakides/Blind Adam, Konstantinos Ladianos, Stathis Logothetis,
Andreas Lolis, Panayiotis Loukas, Rallou Panagiotou, Nikos-Gavriil
Pentzikis, Kostas Sahpazis, Saprophytes, Kostas Sfikas, Christiana
Soulou, Thanassis Totsikas, Ira Triantafyllidou, Souzy Tros (Maria
Papadimitriou), Iris Touliatou, Nanos Valaoritis, Marie
Wilson-Valaoritis, Jannis Varelas, Lydia Venieri, Vangelis Vlahos,
Kostis Velonis, Tassos Vrettos, Takis Zenetos
Hell
as Pavilion
27/02/2013
- 04/04/2013
Palais
de Tokyo, Paris.
At Table and in Bed
AT TABLE AND IN BED
Graham Anderson
Caitlin Keogh
Margaret Lee
Cassandra MacLeod
Aliki Panagiotopoulou
Rallou Panagiotou
Georgia Sagri
Kostas Sahpazis
Ira Triantafyllidou
Kostis Velonis
H.C.Westermann
Kostis Velonis, You
Might be Able to Climb but Definitely you Will Fall , 2011
100
x 85 x 85 cm, Wood,
plywood.
Andreas
Melas and Helena Papadopoulos Gallery
At
Table and in Bed ..
30
January-23 March,
Opening Wednesday 30/1 8-10pm
Others
Exhibition
View, Others
curated by Pae White. © MAK/Katrin Wißkirchen.
Pae
White reacts to the themes present in Vienna
1900 and
curates the exhibition Others for the MAK Permanent Collection
Contemporary Art. In a selection of works-on-paper and
three-dimensional objects, Pae White focuses on items in the MAK
Collection that are not clearly categorized and whose authors are
principally unknown. Equally, White is interested in the role of
critics and curators in the formation of narratives, which exclude
objects of ambiguous value in order to create clearer histories.
“Within
every museum there are objects that are un-attributable, that have no
clear authorship, and yet remain part of the collection. The
significance of the object is clear, but their place in an historical
narrative is not. Living in a sort of limbo, these objects pass time
in their dark, climate-controlled space, waiting for a curator to
detach them from limbo (or not). The institution understands their
inherent value, yet cannot position them definitively in any
conventional art-historical chronicle, which consequently ensures
their continued absence from both exhibitions and historical texts.
To
be certain, art historians and curators, alike, must engage in the
editing of history to establish a storyline clear enough to be
understood by a target audience; however sophisticated that audience
might be, the totality of production in any era is too much to
apprehend easily. When that era is the explosion of creativity that
was fin de siècle Vienna, however, the trickle-down exuberance needs
to be recognized. These creations may only seem semi-important when
viewed next to the acknowledged masterpieces of the era, but those
adjacencies provide a wider, more complex context in which to
understand the era in its entirety.
Others
is an attempted rescue of some of these unknown yet important
objects, by temporarily relocating them to the gallery on the top
floor, allowing them the exposure that they so richly deserve.
This exhibition will celebrate objects that challenge questions of
categorization and authorship, offering, perhaps, a new, more
inclusive story that defies historicism. My hope is to present the
work as it came to me—without words, free of any didactic text
anchoring it to a familiar, oft-told storyline.
In
the end, OTHERS is less about the redemption of objects and more
about offering the viewer (and the objects) the space to
breathe, proposing the poetic silence of the unknown, and
opening up a space, freed from the tyranny of history, in which
these lovely, mostly anonymous creations can be viewed on their
own terms.”
–Pae
White, Vienna, November 2012
21
November 2012–17 March 2013
MAK
Permanent Collection Contemporary Art
MAK – Austrian Museum of
Applied Arts / Contemporary Art, Vienna
Thursday, January 17, 2013
The Voice of the Nightingale
Scene
from the colorized silent
short film “La voix du rossignol” directed by Ladislas
Starevich, produced in
France by Pathé, 1923.
Deadline I
Roman Ondák, Untitled (Post-it), 2005 (Private Collection, courtesy: the artist & Johnen Galerie; Photograph: Jens Ziehe
Imagine you are asked to write these lines for a respected art magazine, ten days from now. How will this deadline look? Burdensome? Threatening? Will it be a gentle reminder that work must be done, or will it be a stressful monster crawling out of your diary and making your nights sleepless? And most important: What exactly will you do to finish on time?
Well, I didn’t. Deadlines are mixed blessings. They are indicated objectively by our watches, diaries or bosses asking for completed work. Respecting deadlines initially involves keeping them in mind, for example by writing them down in bold red characters … But such tactics don’t seem to be enough. Research by psychologists as well as our everyday lives show us that we tend to miss deadlines or, as in my case, extend them.
When people estimate the distance they must traverse to reach an object, they take into account the effort required to reach it. Objects that require more effort will appear even farther away in our minds. I believe we think about deadlines in a similar way: feeling that they are closer or farther from now depends on how much we need to do to meet them, not just on how objectively close or far they are with respect to the present. Even the very same deadline – say, ten days from now – can feel different, depending upon the task.
I asked 74 participants from VU University Amsterdam to imagine they would complete a list of tasks (such as going to a concert or organizing a wedding) by a certain date in the future. First, they estimated the effort needed to complete these tasks and then how far away in time these events felt to them. I made the following observation: The more effort involved in the task, the closer in time the deadline felt. Perhaps more effort means preparing earlier, working faster or being more organized up until the deadline. If little effort is required, deadlines may appear farther away because there is little chance of missing them.
When 25 other participants thought about the same tasks with no deadlines attached to them, the ones involving more effort felt farther away. They became ‘stretched out’ in time because when there is no deadline, effort is not a meaningful cue for taking on tasks. Yet this perception of effort and time could arise from other factors. Due to this possibility, I conducted two other experiments with 108 participants where I deliberately changed the amount of effort they needed to invest in a task, and then I measured how close or far the task’s deadline felt. Again, the more effort one needed to complete the task, the closer in time the deadline felt.
However quantitative, deadlines are not just objective, static measures of time, but also subjective, malleable estimations of when future events will happen. Their double nature helps us to adapt our resources and probably be more efficient.
Text by Gabriela Jiga-Boy
Source: http://frieze-magazin.de Issue 7, winter 12.
Sculptures by Hans Josephsohn
Hans
Josephson at the Kesselhaus Josephsohn, St. Gallen,
Switzerland, 2004
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Woman in B3 club chair
Erich
Consemüller, "Untitled" (Woman [Lis Beyer or Ise Gropius]
in B3 club chair by Marcel Breuer wearing a mask by Oskar Schlemmer
and a dress in fabric designed by Beyer), c. 1926.
Friday, January 11, 2013
A solitary walk
Hariklia
Hari, A Solitary Walk, 2012
Source : harihari-reveriesdupromeneursolitaire.blogspot.gr
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Suspended House
Architect:
Paul Nelson.1936-38. Acrylic, metal,
paint, stone, textile, wood, 14 x 36 1/2 x 28 1/2" (35.6 x 92.7
x 72.4 cm). Sculpture and painting by Hans Arp Alexander Calder,
Joan Miró and Fernand Léger.
ΤΕΤΤΙΞ
Performance
Ανάγνωσης στην έκθεση ΤΕΤΤΙΞ
Συμμετοχές:Κωστής
Βελώνης Φοίβη Γιαννίση, Κατερίνα
Ηλιοπούλου, Νάντια Καλαρά Δούκα
Καπάνταης, Πατρίτσια Κολαΐτη Ίριδα
Λυκουριώτη Κωνσταντίνος Ματσούκας,
Γιάνα Μπούκοβα, Ιορδάνης Παπαδόπουλος
Νάνα Σαχίνη Μαρία Τοπάλη
Επιμέλεια
-Σκηνοθεσία : Φοίβη
Γιαννίση
Πέμπτη
10 Ιανουαρίου ώρα 8.30
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Ικρια
Ξύλινα καθίσματα πάνω στα οποία συνωστίζονται οι θεατές, όπως παριστάνονται σε αγγείο του Σοφίλου.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Newtopia
Newtopia:
The State of Human Rights, 2012, Mechelen, Belgium- Installation
views
Photo
by Kristof Vrancken.
“The Promise of Happiness” series, 2011-12
Thursday, December 27, 2012
The New Brutalism
Introduce an observer into any field of forces, influences or communications and that field becomes distorted. It is common opinion that Das Kapital has played old harry with capitalism, so that Marxists can hardly recognize it when they see it, and the widespread diffusion of Freud’s ideas has wrought such havoc with clinical psychology that any intelligent patient can make a nervous wreck of his analyst. What has been the influence of contemporary architectural historians on the history of contemporary architecture?
They have created the idea of a Modem Movement-this was known even before Basil Taylor took up arms against false historicism-and beyond that they have offered a rough classification of the ‘isms’ which are the thumb-print of Modernity into two main types: One, like Cubism, is a label, a recognition tag, applied by critics and historians to a body of work which appears to have certain consistent principles running through it, whatever the relationship of the artists; the other, like Futurism, is a banner, a slogan, a policy consciously adopted by a group of artists, whatever the apparent similarity or dissimilarity of their products. And it is entirely characteristic of the New Brutalism-our first native art-movement since the New Art-History arrived here-that it should confound these categories and belong to both at once.
Is Art-History to blame for this? Not in any obvious way, but in practically every other way. One cannot begin to study the New Brutalism without realizing how deeply the New Art-History has bitten into progressive English architectural thought, into teaching methods, into the common language of communication between architects and between architectural critics. What is interesting about R. Furneaux Jordan’s Parthian footnote on the New Brutalism-‘… Lubetkin talks across time to the great masters, the Smithsons talk only to each other’-is not the fact that it is nearly true, and thus ruins his argument, but that its terms of valuation are historical. The New Brutalism has to be seen against the background of the recent history of history, and, in particular, the growing sense of the inner history of the Modern Movement itself.
The history of the phrase itself is revealing. Its form is clearly derived from THE ARCHITECTURAL REVIEW’S post-war trouvaille‘The New Empiricism,’ a term which was intended to describe visible tendencies in Scandinavian architecture to diverge from another historical concept ‘The International Style.’ This usage, like any involving the word new, opens up an historical perspective. It postulates that an old empiricism can be identified by the historian, and that the new one can be distinguished from it by methods of historical comparison, which will also distinguish it from a mere ‘Empirical Revival.’ The ability to deal with such fine shades of historical meaning is in itself a measure of our handiness with the historical method today, and the use of phrases of the form ‘The New X-ism’-where X equals any adjectival root- became commonplace in the early nineteen-fifties in fourth-year studios and other places where architecture is discussed, rather than practiced.
The passion of such discussion has been greatly enhanced by the clarity of its polarization-Communists versus the Rest-and it was somewhere in this vigorous polemic that the term The New Brutalism was first coined. It was, in the beginning, a term of Communist abuse, and it was intended to signify the normal vocabulary of Modern architecture-flat roofs, glass, exposed structure-considered as morally reprehensible deviations from ‘The New Humanism,’ a phrase which means something different in Marxist hands to the meaning which might be expected.
The New Humanism meant, in architecture at that time brickwork, segmental arches, pitched roofs, small windows (or small panes at any rate)-picturesque detailing without picturesque planning. It was, in fact, the so-called ‘William Morris Revival,’ now happily defunct, since Kruschev’s reversal of the Party’s architectural line, though this reversal has, of course, taken the guts out of subsequent polemics. But it will be observed that The New Humanism was again a quasi-historical concept, oriented, however spuriously, toward that mid-nineteenth century epoch which was Marxism’s Golden Age, when you could recognize a capitalist when you met him.
However, London architectural circles are a small field in which to conduct a polemic of any kind, and abuse must be directed at specific persons, rather than classes of persons, since there was rarely enough unanimity (except among Marxists) to allow a class to coalesce. The New Brutalists at whom Marxist spite was directed could be named and recognized and so could their friends in other arts. The term had no sooner got into public circulation than its meaning began to narrow.
Among the non-Marxist grouping there was no particular unity of programme or intention, but there was a certain community of interests, a tendency to look toward Le Corbusier, and to be aware of something called le beton brut, to know the quotation which appears at the head of this article and, in the case of the more sophisticated and aesthetically literate, to know of the Art Brut of Jean Dubuffet and his connection in Paris. Words and ideas, personalities and discontents chimed together and in a matter of weeks-long before the Third Programme and the monthlies had got hold of the phrase-it had been appropriated as their own, by their own desire and public consent, by two young architects, Alison and Peter Smithson.
The phrase had thus changed both its meaning and its usage. Adopted as something between a slogan and a brick-bat flung in the public’s face, The New Brutalism ceased to be a label descriptive of a tendency common to most modern architecture, and became instead a programme, a banner, while retaining some-rather restricted-sense as a descriptive label. It is because it is both kinds of -ism at once that The New Brutalism eludes precise description, while remaining a living force in contemporary British architecture.
As a descriptive label it has two overlapping, but not identical, senses. Non-architecturally it describes the art of Dubuffet, some aspects of Jackson Pollock and of Appel, and the burlap paintings of Alberto Burri-among foreign artists-and, say, Magda Cordell or Edouardo Paolozzi and Nigel Henderson among English artists. With these last two, the Smithsons collected and hung the I.C.A. exhibition Parallel of Life and Art, which, though it probably preceded the coining of the phrase, is nevertheless regarded as alocus classicus of the movement.
The more instructive aspects of this exhibition will be considered later: for the moment let us observe that many critics (and students at the Architectural Association) complained of the deliberate flouting of the traditional concepts of photographic beauty, of a cult of ugliness, and ‘denying the spiritual in Man.’ The tone of response to The New Brutalism existed even before hostile critics knew what to call it, and there was an awareness that the Smithsons were headed in a different direction to most other younger architects in London.
Alison Smiths on first claimed the words in public as her own in a description of a project for a small house in Soho (Architectural Design, November, 1953) designed before the phrase existed, and previously tagged ‘The warehouse aesthetic’-a very fair description of what The New Brutalism stood for in its first phase. Of this house, she wrote: ‘… had this been built, it would have been the first exponent of the New Brutalism in England, as the preamble to the specification shows: “It is our intention in this building to have the structure exposed entirely, without interior finishes wherever practicable. The contractor should aim at a high standard of basic construction, as in a small warehouse”.’
The publication of this project led to an extensive and often hilarious correspondence in various periodicals through the summer of 1954, a correspondence which wandered further and further from its original point because most writers were in fact discussing either the exhibition Parallel of Life and Art, or the (as yet) unpublished school at Hunstanton. When this was finally published (AR, September, 1954) the discussion took a sharper and less humorous tone, for here in three-dimensional and photographic reality, and in the classic Modern Movement materials of concrete, steel and glass, was the Smithsons’ only completed building. The phrase The New Brutalism was immediately applied to it, though it had been designed in the spring of 1950, long before even the house in Soho, but the Brutalists themselves have accepted this appellation, and it has become the tag for Hunstanton wherever the building has been discussed.
Hunstanton, and the house in Soho, can serve as the points of architectural reference by which The New Brutalism in architecture may be defined. What are the visible and identifiable characteristics of these two structures? Both have formal, axial plans-Hunstanton, in fact, has something like true bi-axial symmetry, and the small Gymnasium block alongside the school is a kind of exemplar in little of just how formal the complete scheme was to have been-and this formality is immediately legible from without. Both exhibit their basic structure, and both make a point of exhibiting their materials-in fact, this emphasis on basic structure is so obsessive that many superficial critics have taken this to be the whole of New Brutalist Architecture.
Admittedly, this emphasis on basic structure is important, even if it is not the whole story, and what has caused Hunstanton to lodge in the public’s gullet is the fact that it is almost unique among modern buildings in being made of what it appears to be made of. Whatever has been said about honest use of materials, most modern buildings appear to be made of whitewash or patent glazing, even when they are made of concrete or steel. Hunstanton appears to be made of glass, brick, steel and concrete, and is in fact made of glass, brick, steel and concrete. Water and electricity do not come out of unexplained holes in the wall, but are delivered to the point of use by visible pipes and manifest conduits. One can see what Hunstanton is made of, and how it works, and there is not another thing to see except the play of spaces.
This ruthless adherence to one of the basic moral imperatives of the Modern Movement-honesty in structure and material-has precipitated a situation to which only the pen of Ibsen could do justice. The mass of moderate architects, hommes moyens sensuels, have found their accepted, practices for waiving the requirements of the conscience-code suddenly called in question; they have been put rudely on the spot, and they have not liked the experience. Of course, it is not just the building itself which has precipitated this situation, it is the things the Brutalists have said and done as well, but, as with the infected Spa in An Enemy of the People, the play of personalities focuses around a physical object.
The qualities of that object may be summarized as follows: 1, Formal legibility of plan; 2, clear exhibition of structure, and 3, valuation of materials for their inherent qualities ‘as found.’ This summary can be used to answer the question: Are there other New Brutalist buildings besides Hunstanton? It is interesting to note that such a summary of qualities could be made to describe Marseilles, Promontory and Lakeshore apartments, General Motors Technical Centre, much recent Dutch work and several projects by younger English architects affiliated to ClAM.
But, with the possible exception of Marseilles, the Brutalists would probably reject most of these buildings from the canon, and so must we, for all of these structures exhibit an excess of suaviter in modo, even if there is plenty of fortiter in re about them. In the last resort what characterizes the New Brutalism in architecture as in painting is precisely its brutality, its je-m’en-foutisme, its bloody-mindedness.
Only one other building conspicuously carries these qualities in the way that Hunstanton does, and that is Louis Kahn’s Yale Art Centre. Here is a building which is uncompromisingly frank about its materials, which is inconceivable apart from its boldly exhibited structural method which-being a concrete space-frame -is as revolutionary and unconventional as the use of the Plastic Theory in stressing Hunstanton’s steel H-frames. Furthermore, the plan is very formal in the disposition of its main elements, and makes a kind of symmetry about two clearly defined axes at right angles to one another. And this is a building which some Brutalists can apparently accept as a constituent New Brutalist structure.
But, with all due diffidence, the present author submits that it still does not quite answer to the standard set by Hunstanton. For one thing, the Smithsons’ work is characterized by an abstemious under-designing of the details, and much of the impact of the building comes from the ineloquence, but absolute consistency, of such components as the stairs and handrails. By comparison, Kahn’s detailing is arty, and the stair-rail and balustrading (if that is the word for stainless netting) is jarringly out of key with the rough-shuttered concrete of the main structure. This may be ‘only a matter of detailing’ but there is another short-fall about Yale Art Centre which could not be brushed off so easily.
Every Smithson design has been, obviously or subtly, a coherent and apprehensible visual entity, but this Louis Kahn’s design narrowly fails to be. The internal spaces will be cluttered with display screens which, in the nature of his programme and his solution of it, must be susceptible of being moved, so that formal clarity is always threatened. But beyond this the relation of interior to exterior fails to validate the axes which govern the plan. Available viewpoints, the placing of the entrances, the handling of the exterior walls-all tend to lose or play down the presence of planning axes. No doubt there are excellent functional reasons for the doors being where they are, and excellent structural reasons for the walls being treated in the way they are-but if these reasons were so compelling, why bother with an axial plan anyhow?
This is a hard thing to have to say about a seriously considered building by a reputable architect of some standing, but contact with Brutalist architecture tends to drive one to hard judgements, and the one thing of which the Smithsons have never been accused is a lack of logic or consistency in thinking through a design. In fact it is the ruthless logic more than anything else which most hostile critics find distressing about Hunstanton-or perhaps it is the fact that this logic is worn on the sleeve. One of the reasons for this obtrusive logic is that it contributes to the apprehensibility and coherence of the building as a visual entity, because it contributes to the building as ‘an image.’
An Image-with the utterance of these two words we bridge the gap between the possible use of The New Brutalism as a descriptive label covering, in varying degrees of accuracy, two or more buildings, and The New Brutalism as a slogan, and we also go some way to bridge the gap between the meaning of the term as applied to architecture and its meaning as applied to painting and sculpture. The word image in this sense is one of the most intractable and the most useful terms in contemporary aesthetics, and some attempt to explain it must be made.
A great many things have been called ‘an image’- S. M. della Consolazione at Todi, a painting by Jackson Pollock, the Lever Building, the 1954 Cadillac convertible, the roofscape of the Unitéat Marseilles, any of the hundred photographs in Parallel of Life and Art. ‘Image’ seems to be a word that describes anything or nothing. Ultimately, however, it means something which is visually valuable, but not necessarily by the standards of classical aesthetics.
Where Thomas Aquinas supposed beauty to be quod visum placet(that which seen, pleases), image may be defined as quod visum perturbat-that which seen, affects the emotions, a situation which could subsume the pleasure caused by beauty, but is not normally taken to do so, for the New Brutalists’ interests in image are commonly regarded, by many of themselves as well as their critics, as being anti-art, or at any rate anti-beauty in the classical aesthetic sense of the word. But what is equally as important as the specific kind of response, is the nature of its cause. What pleased St. Thomas was an abstract quality, beauty-what moves a New Brutalist is the thing itself, in its totality, and with all its overtones of human association. These ideas of course lie close to the general body of anti-Academic aesthetics currently in circulation, though they are not to be identified exactly with Michel Tapie’s concept of un Art Autre, even though that concept covers many Continental Brutalists as well as Edouardo Paolozzi.
Nevertheless this concept of Image is common to all aspects of The New Brutalism in England, but the manner in which it works out in architectural practice has some surprising twists to it. Basically, it requires that the building should be an immediately apprehensible visual entity; and that the form grasped by the eye should be confirmed by experience of the building in use. Further, that this form should be entirely proper to the functions and materials of the building, in their entirety. Such a relationship between structure, function and form is the basic commonplace of all good building of course, the demand that this form should be apprehensible and memorable is the apical uncommonplace which makes good building into great architecture.
The fact that this form-giving obligation has been so far forgotten that a great deal of good building can be spoken of as if it were architecture, is a mark of a seriously decayed condition in English architectural standards. It has become too easy to get away with the assumption that if structure and function are served then the result must be architecture-so easy that the meaningless phrase ’ the conceptual building’ has been coined to defend the substandard architectural practices of the routine-functionalists, as if ‘conceptual buildings’ were something new, and something faintly reprehensible in modern architecture.
All great architecture has been ‘conceptual,’ has been image-making-and the idea that any great buildings, such as the Gothic Cathedrals, grew unconsciously through anonymous collaborative attention to structure and function is one of the most insidious myths with which the Modern Movement is saddled. Every great building of the Modern Movement has been a conceptual design, especially those like the Bauhaus, which go out of their way to look as if they were the products of ‘pure’ functionalism, whose aformal compositions are commonly advanced by routine-functionalists in defence of their own abdication of architectural responsibility. But a conceptual building is as likely to be aformal as it is to be formal, as a study of the Smithsons’ post-Hunstanton projects will show.
Hunstanton’s formality is unmistakably Miesian, as Philip Johnson pointed out, possibly because lIT. was one of the few recent examples of conceptual, form-giving design to which a young architect could turn at the time of its conception, and the formality of their Coventry Cathedral competition entry is equally marked, but here one can safely posit the interference of historical studies again, for, though the exact priority of date as between the Smithsons’ design and the publication of Professor Wittkower’sArchitectural Principles of the Age of Humanism is disputed (by the Smithsons) it cannot be denied that they were in touch with Wittkowerian studies at the time, and were as excited by them as anybody else.
The general impact of Professor Wittkower’s book on a whole generation of post-war architectural students is one of the phenomena of our time. Its exposition of a body of architectural theory in which function and form were significantly linked by the objective laws governing the Cosmos (as Alberti and Palladio understood them) suddenly offered a way out of the doldrum of routine-functionalist abdications, and neo-Palladianism became the order of the day.
The effect of Architectural Principles has made it by far the most important contribution-for evil as well as good-by any historian to English Architecture since Pioneers of the Modern Movement, and it precipitated a nice disputation on the proper uses of history. The question became: Humanist principles to be followed? or Humanist principles as an example of the kind of principles to look for? Many students opted for the former alternative, and Routine-Palladians soon became as thick on the ground as Routine-Functionalists. The Brutalists, observing the inherent risk of a return to pure academicism-more pronounced at Liverpool than at the AA-sheered off abruptly in the other direction and were soon involved in the organization of Parallel of Life and Art.
Introducing this exhibition to an AA student debate Peter Smithson declared: ‘We are not going to talk about proportion and symmetry’ and this was his declaration of war on the inherent academicism of the neo-Palladians, and the anti-Brutalist section of the house made it clear how justified was this suspicion of crypto-academicism by taking their stand not only on Palladio and Alberti but also on Plato and the Absolute.
The new direction in Brutalist architectural invention showed at once in the Smithsons’ Golden Lane and Sheffield University competition entries. The former, only remembered for having put the idea of the street-deck back in circulation in England, is notable for its determination to create a coherent visual image by non-formal means, emphasizing visible circulation, identifiable units of habitation, and fully validating the presence of human beings as part of the total image-the perspectives had photographs of people posted on to the drawings, so that the human presence almost overwhelmed the architecture.
But the Sheffield design went further even than this-and aformalism becomes as positive a force in its composition as it does in a painting by Burri or Pollock. Composition might seem pretty strong language for so apparently casual a layout, but this is clearly not an ‘unconceptual’ design, and on examination it can be shown to have a composition, but based not on the elementary rule-and-compass geometry which underlies most architectural composition, so much as an intuitive sense of topology.
As a discipline of architecture topology has always been present in a subordinate and unrecognized way-qualities of penetration, circulation, inside and out, have always been important, but elementary Platonic geometry has been the master discipline. Now, in the Smithsons’ Sheffield project the roles are reversed, topology becomes the dominant and geometry becomes the subordinate discipline. The ‘connectivity’ of the circulation routes is flourished on the exterior and no attempt is made to give a geometrical form to the total scheme; large blocks of topologically similar spaces stand about the site with the same graceless memorability as martello towers or pit-head gear.
Such a dominance accorded to topology-in whose classifications a brick is the same ‘shape’ as a billiard ball (unpenetrated solid) and a teacup is the same ‘shape’ as a gramophone record (continuous surface with one hole) is clearly analogous to the displacement of Tomistic ‘beauty’ by Brutalist ‘Image,’ and Sheffield remains the most consistent and extreme point reached by any Brutalists in their search for Une Architecture Autre. It is not likely to displace Hunstanton in architectural discussions as the prime exemplar of The New Brutalism, but it is the only building-design which fully matches up to the threat and promise of Pamllel of Life and Art. ‘
And it shows that the formal axiality of Hunstanton is not integral to New Brutalist architecture. Miesian or Wittkowerian geometry was only an ad hoc device for the realization of ‘Images,’ and when Parallel of Life and Art had enabled Brutalists to define their relationship to the visual world in terms of something other than geometry, then formality was discarded. The definition of a New Brutalist building derived from Hunstanton and Yale Art Centre, above, must be modified so as to exclude formality as a basic quality if it is to cover future developments and should more properly read: 1, Memorability as an Image; 2, Clear exhibition of Structure; and 3, Valuation of Materials ‘as found.’
Remembering that an Image is what affects the emotions, that structure, in its fullest sense, is the relationship of parts, and that materials ‘as found’ are raw materials, we have worked our way back to the quotation which headed this article ‘L’ Architecture, c’est, avec des Matieres Bruts, etablir des rapports emouvants,’ but we have worked our way to this point through such an awareness of history and its uses that we see that The New Brutalism, if it is architecture in the grand sense of Le Corbusier’s definition, is also architecture of our time and not of his, nor of Lubetkin’s, nor of the times of the Masters of the past. Even if it were true that the Brutalists speak only to one another, the fact that they have stopped speaking to Mansart, to Palladio and to Alberti would make The New Brutalism, even in its more private sense, a major contribution to the architecture of today.
Text by Reyner Banham, The Architectural Review, 1955 December
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