Autonomy and Memory in Unstable Political Climates

The presidency of Bosnia and Herzegovina is formed by a tripartate power-share between the ethnic Bosniaks, Serbs and Croatians. The pervasive tension and instability of the political structure fractures any sense of forthcoming stabilization. In the reality of living in a region where war and fighting are an ever-present threat, the ideology of an autonomous architecture is appealing.

Consider that neo-rationalist theory developed in concept during the interwar period and was further shaped by the destruction wrought on Italian cities by the Axis and Allied powers during WWII. These ancient cities were devastated by bombs and warfare. The task of rebuilding Europe after WWII was handled differently depending on the sphere of influence. The West developed the Marshall Plan to attempt to help with the stabilization and reconstruction. Italy accepted the aid, as did many other European nations.

Several nations that had formed under the splintering of the Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman Empires in the early 20^th century did not have the buffer of distance or ideology from the Soviet Union to accept the aid. Joseph Stalin controlled a large portion of Eastern Europe, not by actual right of law, but with force of fear and control. This sphere of influence formed the iron curtain that is synonymous with the Cold War.

“I don’t invent, I remember,” Aldo Rossi

In his essay, Michael Hays states that “Rossi assumes history as an uninterrupted event to be studied and explored…” Personally, I believe that architecture should relay some sense of what events shaped it. Florence would not be Florence without the Renaissance. Similarly, removing the past from architecture and placing that building in a historical vacuum is somewhat idealistic. What is interesting to me is this idea of typology and taking an element of the past and expounding and developing that key truth to fit a new space and time. I think this worked well in Italy and many of the other nations as they rebuilt in post-war Europe.

Back to Bosnia and Herzegovina where pre-war architecture was a synthesis of the religions and struggles that shaped the region. A relatively short occupation by the Byzantines infused Eastern Orthodoxy and a rich complexity of color and geometry to the architecture and region. The Ottoman Turks brought onion domes and magnificent mosques and palaces. The Austro-Hungarian Empire provided a third influence- the West. All meshed to create a unique culture and tension to the region.

"Dance with the devils in beautiful buildings..." The Veils, Vicious Traditions.

WWII ripped an irreparable tear in the fabric of the region. The differing peoples and ideas that had lived together in a tenuous accord were now destroying each other. I do not believe that architecture can flourish in a time when there is no stability. Ideas can flourish (as in interwar Italy). Architecture does not. While the regime of Joseph “Tito” Broz was removed from Stalin (they despised each other), Tito was not handing out civil liberties left and right. He was a charismatic leader and considered a war hero. He did save Yugoslavia from Stalin in a way that no other leader of Eastern Europe achieved. The price for that sliver of freedom under autocracy was mounting ethnic tension and government suppression.

Communist architecture in what was then Yugoslavia was neither rational nor functional. Whole families lived together in tiny apartments in these massive blocks of concrete. These families often shared that tiny apartment with complete strangers. Their only privacy was a screen fashioned from pieces of fabric or wood panels. This is where architecture fails. When the politics of the time necessitate suppression of the very basic expression of comfort, architecture fails. This is where I see a certain rationale to autonomous architecture. If the politics and place are so extreme as to wipe clean the entire concept of architectural memory, then yes, I prefer autonomy. Give it nothing or give it something, but don’t kill it.

The 3 year war between the Bosniaks and the Serbs (1992-95), brought an unprecedented cruelty to the region. The Serbs systematically slaughtered Bosniak men and boys in acts of genocide. The cities were, once again, destroyed. The whole infrastructure collapsed. These beautiful cities that were infused with a great and rich history were leveled and left in ruin. Moreover, the ethnic tensions continue to destabilize the nation. The current government’s policy of power-sharing provides no safety or security.

The question becomes how do you rebuild in a climate of instability? Particularly when the first buildings necessary are government facilities and housing. Do you choose an architecture autonomous of the history or do you choose an architecture that builds off memory and typology? While tempted by the intrinsic honesty of autonomy in any region where extreme politics prevail, I feel this region has such a rich architectural history that it would be unjust to remove that. Perhaps, a typological approach would be the kindest. Move on, but with a knowledge of that which preceded.

If interested, here is a link to a New York Times article on the recent elections: Ethnic Wins in Bosnia May Cause Deeper Splits.

Photos: Beg's Mosque, Sarajevo, Mimar Sinan, 1531; Communist-era housing, Sarejavo, in ruin after the Bosnian War; Concept for the Sarajevo Concert Hall; Urban Future Organization, 1999.

The Master and the Student

Today's lecture on Louis Kahn began with a quick tour on the basic tenets of philosophy through Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Descartes and Locke in regard to how Kahn constructed his architectural dogma. I found the trifecta of Socrates, Plato and Aristotle to be a particularly interesting starting point because Kahn, himself, was both a master and a student of the emerging modernist movement.

Plato provided a fascinating and applicable fable to the master and student in the Allegory of the Cave (“The Republic”). In this, Plato presents a view of reality that is only false because the perspective of the viewer is askew. There is a Higher Truth unseen by the inhabitants of the cave. They do not have the appropriate vantage point. Their knowledge is based on smoke and mirrors.

"...your faith was strong but you needed proof."

Leonard Cohen, Hallelujah.

The Salk Institute is the ultimate testament to the master/student and client/architect relationship. There, Louis Kahn and Jonas Salk repeatedly exchanged places in the role of master and student. I had the opportunity to visit the Salk Institute with the La Tech Architecture Department in 2009. This trip came at a time when I was losing faith in my decision to return to school and my ability to adapt to a field where communication had changed drastically in my absence. In my foundation courses, I was notorious for re-using two architects as precedents- Kahn and Aalto. In my defense, they were the form-givers, the purists and their work has greatly stood the test of time. To my detriment, I was the one not evolving. Anyway, I have always contended that I never wanted to see an Aalto or Kahn in person. I do not like anti-climaxes. When the trip was announced, however, I desperately wanted to go.

The Salk Institute is nestled in small, flat-tree hills outside San Diego. The landscape is both beautiful and harsh. Our first glimpse of the actual structures was from the hills above the complex. Your expectations build as you approach and the actual site itself prolongs the anticipation with an extended threshold. You park, you walk up a huge hill, you see the newer structures (and appreciate, but dismiss….not what you are there for), you hit the bathroom… And there, I stopped and waited a second. I thought back to that second architectural history class (I think of you often, Mr. Dulaney….). I remembered my enthusiasm, my love…I remembered the beginning of the journey.

In some crazy, inexplicable turn-of-events, everyone (including the 20+ students in our group) had cleared the plaza. That iconic view of the Salk overlooking the Pacific was completely flawless and pristine. At the end of the procession, Mr. Brooks asked me what I thought. I told him it was worth everything. Absolutely everything. And, it was.

In a windowless room, I was introduced to the beginning of my journey in architecture. In the timeless concrete plaza, I knew I had touched faith and started the end of my journey vis-à-vis Louis Kahn. Whatever regrets I have had or will have in the future, I know I was a student of a great master that day and allowed a small glimpse into a higher knowledge. Many other days, I had only seen flames on the wall.

“Sometimes the things we strive for so hard in life we’ll never see happen in this life.”

-Nathaniel Kahn

Louis Kahn never saw some of his work to completion. The National Assembly Building in Bangladesh was completed several years after his death. In the clip below from the documentary “My Architect,” Nathaniel Kahn meets the people who live and work in the shadows of his father's building. While he was notorious for not always agreeing with the client’s perspective, Louis Kahn extended the perspective of the inhabitants of his architecture. His death was untimely and sad, but his quiet, anonymous death in a bathroom at Penn Station was perhaps a testament to a life lived with a balance between great fervor and great contradiction. He was both a master and a student and he continually repositioned himself within the journey. Kahn did not look to the endpoint to find his truths. He understood the importance, figuratively and literally, of utilizing the space he inhabited.

(The illustration of Plato's Cave courtesy of U of M: Duluth's Anthropology Dept.; the video clip is from TED; photos of the Salk Institute are mine)