exercises in

A RCHIT EC T U R E
learning to think as an architect
SECO N D EDITIO N, R E VISED A N D WITH N E W E X ERCISES

‘One of those books I wish I had come across when I was studying design. It’s a wonderful educational endeavour.’
Michael Andersson, Amazon.co.uk

‘Great book by a great author.’ jgfw, Amazon.com

This revised edition of Exercises in Architecture: Learning to Think as an Architect

is full of new content, building on the success of the previous edition. All the orig-
inal exercises have been revised and new ones added, with the format changing to
allow the inclusion of more supplementary material. The aim remains the same,
to help pre- or early-course architecture students begin and develop their ability
to think as architects.
Learning to do architecture is tricky. It involves awakening abilities that
remain dormant in most people. It is like learning language for the first time; a
task made more mystifying by the fact that architecture deals not in words but in
places: places to stand, to walk, to sit, to hide, to sleep, to cook, to eat, to work, to
play, to worship…
This book was written for those who want to be architects. It suggests a
basis for early experiences in a school of architecture; but it could also be used in
secondary schools and colleges, or as self-directed preparation for students in the
months before entering professional education.
Exercises in Architecture builds on and supplements the methodology
for architectural analysis presented in the author’s previous book Analysing
Architecture: the Universal Language of Place-Making (fifth edition, 2021) and
demonstrated in his Twenty-Five Buildings Every Architect Should Understand
(Routledge, 2015). Together, the three books deal with the three aspects of
learning any creative discipline: 1. Analysing Architecture provides a methodology
for analysis that develops an understanding of the way architecture works; 2.
Twenty-Five Buildings explores and extends that methodology through analysis of
examples as case studies; and 3. Exercises in Architecture offers a way of expanding
understanding and developing fluency by following a range of rudimentary and
more sophisticated exercises.
Those who wish to become professional architects (wherever in the world
they might be) must make a conscious effort to learn the universal language of
architecture as place-making, to explore its powers and how they might be used.
The exercises in this book are designed to help.

Simon Unwin is Emeritus Professor of Architecture at the University of Dundee, Scotland. He has lived in Great Britain and Australia,
and taught or lectured on his work in China, Israel, India, Sweden, Turkey and the United States. Analysing Architecture’s international
relevance is indicated by its translation into various languages and its adoption for architecture courses around the world. Now
retired, Simon Unwin continues to teach at The Welsh School of Architecture in Cardiff, UK.

i
Some reviews of analysing ARCHITECTURE (all editions):

‘The most lucid and readable introduction to architecture I have read.’

Professor Roger Stonehouse, Manchester School of Architecture

‘Simply the best! I have just gone through the first three chapters of this book and find myself compelled to write this review. I
can simply say it is the best and a MUST to everyone in the field of architecture. Students, teachers, and practitioners alike will
all find inspirations from this book.’
Depsis, Amazon.com

‘Unwin chooses to look at the underlying elements of architecture rather than, as is more usual, at the famous names, styles,
movements and chronology of the genre. This rejection of the conventional art-historical approach can lead to interesting
conclusions… it is all presented cogently and convincingly through the medium of Unwin’s own drawings.’
Hugh Pearman, The Sunday Times

‘In clear, precise diagrams and thoughtful text, author Simon Unwin offers an engaging methodology for the study of
architecture and aesthetic systems. Time-tested buildings from classical temples to traditional Japanese homes and early
modernist masterpieces, are explored in this wide ranging, but focused study. Unwin demonstrates that while architectural
styles change over time, the underlying principles that organize quality designs remain remarkably consistent. This book is
a must for all architectural students interested in acquiring the visual skills needed to understand a wide variety of design
methodologies.’
Diane78 (New York), Amazon.com

‘The text has been carefully written to avoid the use of jargon and it introduces architectural ideas in a straightforward
fashion. This, I suspect, will give it a well-deserved market beyond that of architects and architectural students.’
Barry Russell, Environments BY DESIGN

‘From the camp sites of primitive man to the sophisticated structures of the late twentieth century, architecture as an essential
function of human activity is explained clearly, and illustrated with the author’s own excellent drawings. Highly recommended
as a well-organized and readable introduction.’
[email protected], Amazon.com

‘This book establishes a systematic method in analyzing architecture. It explains how architectural elements are combined
together to form designs that could relate an appropriate sense of “place” specific to the programme as well as the
environment surrounding it. The book is well illustrated with diagrams and examples. An extremely useful introductory guide
for those who want to learn more about the basics of architecture.’
[email protected], Amazon.com

‘This book needs to be praised and appreciated… and provides an excellent overview of the subject. There are beautiful and
clear line drawings throughout… and very substantial text that’s TRYING TO TEACH YOU SOMETHING. A very sensitive and
thorough treatment of a difficult and challenging subject, I highly recommend this and its companion piece An Architecture
Notebook. Both are tremendous studio books, and will always have valuable insights to offer when you take them off the shelf.’
Curt Dilger, Amazon.com

‘This was super helpful to me in first year! I still reference it the odd time when I’m looking for ideas for a precedent or when
I’m looking for inspiration! It reduced everything back to the basics which can be helpful if you’re stuck in a rut. I would
recommend it to anyone in first or second year studying architecture!’
Lara, Amazon.co.uk

‘Simon Unwin’s book has been so influential on architectural education that it has attained the place of scripture… Enjoy this
book for what it is supposed to be: an engaging read by a writer whose only purpose is to illuminate his subject, a task he
achieves with aplomb.’
Mr Simon McGuinness, Amazon.com

‘This is an excellent book, recommended to anyone seriously interested in architecture. Its starting point is Unwin’s ability
to draw well – to think through his hands, as it were. This is fundamental to architectural skill and Unwin has used it to
“talk back to himself” and describe the architecture around him. He uses this skill to romp through a huge number and
variety of buildings and architectural situations in order to describe architectural strategies. Unwin has at the heart of his
book a definition and understanding of architecture that we thoroughly endorse: to be dealt with in terms of its conceptual
organisation and intellectual structure. But he adds to this potentially dry definition an emotive overlay or parallel: architecture
as the identification of place (“Place is to architecture as meaning is to language”). Thus he takes on the issue of why we value
architecture.’
architecturelink.org.uk/GMoreSerious2.html

‘Analysing Architecture should become an essential part of all architectural education and an informative guide to the
powerful analytical tool of architectural drawing.’
Howard Ray Lawrence, Pennsylvania State University

ii
‘Excellent in every way – a core book, along with An Architecture Notebook.’
Terry Robson, Teaching Fellow, University of Bath, UK

‘O livro nos dá instrumentos para melhor analisar obras de arquitetura. Quando aprendemos a destrinchar projetos, também
aprendemos como desenvolver nossas próprias criações.’
(‘The book gives us tools to analyze architectural works better. When we learn to untangle projects, we also learn how to develop our
own creations.’)
Larissa Tollstadius, Goodreads.com

‘I think this is an excellent book and I will continue to recommend it to my students.’

Professor Donald Hanlon, University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, USA

‘Many of the architecture world’s most promising students began their studies with this very book. Analysing Architecture by
Simon Unwin is one of the finest introductions in print to architecture and its technique. While a book like this may not be an
obvious choice for a fan of architecture, there is no better way of learning the ins and outs of architectural development than
from a book like this. Even if you don’t ever see yourself drawing up blueprints or hiring contractors (unless you’re designing
the master shed office!), this book can extend an understanding of architecture that only a studied professional could eclipse.’
thecoolist.com/architecture-books-10-must-read-books-for-the-amateur-archophile/ (January 2013)

‘A good overview of architecture for the layperson with a casual interest. Goes over the fundamentals of architecture, what it
proposes to achieve, and some of the aesthetic considerations that architects must take into account. An unexpected insight I
gained from this book, is how fundamental architecture is to humans. Architecture does not necessarily mean “buildings”.’
Arjun Ravichandran, Goodreads.com

‘As a professor who teaches first year architecture students, Simon Unwin’s Analysing Architecture is required reading – a
primary textbook for our students. Beautifully illustrated with drawings from the author’s own notebooks, it also manages to
balance legibility with depth: this is a superbly lucid primer on the fundamental principles of architecture. I recommend this
book wholeheartedly, for readers both new to architecture, and experienced architects as well. A joy to read, a thing of beauty.’
G.B. Piranesi, Amazon.com

‘First, beautiful illustrations. It is hard to believe every single illustration was hand-drawn… I think this book might have
helped me more if I had read it last year (barely beginning my architecture studies). But all is good. This book shed some light
and helped expand my basic knowledge of architecture. It also offered a very poetic perspective of architecture in a simplified
and tangible way. Mr Unwin, instead of talking vaguely about architecture, spoke quite simply and understandably through
words and drawings. It is something to be commended on. I like the idea of architecture as identification of place. That is
something I have contemplated but not really gotten into, it was a mere feeling and an idea, rather than a formalized thought.
Mr Unwin created words for what I was trying to express.’
Wei Cho, Goodreads.com

‘One would have no hesitation in recommending this book to new students: it introduces many ideas and references central to
the study of architecture. The case studies are particularly informative. A student would find this a useful aid to identifying the
many important issues seriously engaged with in Architecture.’
Lorraine Farrelly, Architectural Design

‘What is striking about the book is the thoughtfulness and consideration which is present in each phrase, each sentence, each
plan, each section and each view, all contributing to an overarching quality which makes the book particularly applicable and
appropriate to students in their efforts to make sense of the complex and diverse aspects of architecture… Unwin writes with
an architect’s sensibility and draws with an accomplished architect’s hand.’
Susan Rice, Rice and Ewald Architects, Architectural Science Review

‘Simon Unwin’s sketches are fascinating. He includes simplified and thematic drawings, floorplans with associated views,
details and three dimensional drawings to illustrate the principles of “identification of place”. He doesn’t judge architects, but
discusses works in their context through thematic perspectives. It is exactly what he says it is; one broad system of analysis.
A comprehensive and valuable overview of architecture as a whole.’
TheGriffinReads, Goodreads.com

‘Firstly, the hand-drawn illustrations are really beautiful. I’m glad that my faculty decided to have a discussion on this book. It
is enlightening and helped me expand my architectural vocabulary and knowledge. The constant comparison with language
and music coupled with the sketches made it quite simple to understand. As a second year student, it made me realise that
architecture is subtle, subjective, complex and frustrating but ultimately rewarding. I feel motivated and excited to learn and
master the language of architecture.’
Shanaya, Goodreads.com

‘Probably the best introductory book on architecture.’

Andrew Higgott, Lecturer in Architecture, University of East London

‘A truly amazing book on how to analyze a building. A must read for all young architects.’
Fatema, Goodreads.com

iii
Analysing Architecture Notebooks (these Notebooks are supplements to Analysing Architecture: the Universal
Language of Place-Making and the present volume)

Metaphor: an exploration of the metaphorical dimensions and potential of architecture

Curve: possibilities and problems with deviating from the straight in architecture
Children as Place-Makers: the innate architect in all of us
Shadow: the architectural power of withholding light

(Keep an eye on routledge.com/Analysing-Architecture-Notebooks/book-series/AAN for further additions to

this series.)

Other books by Simon Unwin

Analysing Architecture: the Universal Language of Place-Making

An Architecture Notebook: Wall
Doorway
Twenty-Five Buildings Every Architect Should Understand
The Ten Most Influential Buildings in History: Architecture’s Archetypes

ebooks (available for iPad from Apple Books)

Skara Brae
The Entrance Notebook
Villa Le Lac
The Time Notebook
The Person Notebook

Simon Unwin’s website is at simonunwin.com

(Some of Simon Unwin’s personal notebooks, used in researching and preparing this and his other books, are
available for free download from this site.)

Supplementary material relating to all Simon Unwin’s books may be found on Instagram at
www.instagram.com/analysingarchitecture (@analysingarchitecture)

iv
exercises in
A RCHIT EC T U R E
learning to think as an architect
SECO N D EDITIO N, R E VISED A N D WITH N E W E X ERCISES

v
Cover image: Simon Unwin

Second edition published 2023

by Routledge
4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN

and by Routledge
605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158

Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business

© 2023 Simon Unwin

The right of Simon Unwin to be identified as author of this work has been asserted
in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act
1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or uti-
lised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or
hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information
storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers.

Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered

trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to
infringe.

First edition published by Routledge 2012

Publisher’s Note
This book has been prepared from camera-ready copy provided by the author.

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

A catalog record has been requested for this book

ISBN: 978-1-032-26566-7 (hbk)

ISBN: 978-1-032-26565-0 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-003-28887-9 (ebk)

DOI: 10.4324/9781003288879

Typeset in Georgia and Arial

by Simon Unwin

vi
 for

Merve and Jane

(the ‘eltis’)

vii
CON TEN TS
PRELUDE – the essence of architecture 3 SECTION TWO – geometry 53
□ The origin of architecture – place-making 5 EXERCISE 5: alignment 55
□ Selling apples – a girl ‘architects’ her world 6 5a – geometries of the world and person 55
□ Degas’ vitrine – making frames 7 5b – geometries aligned 56
□ La Bajoulière – a place enclosed 8 IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: alignment 57
EXERCISE 6: anthropometry 59
INTRODUCTION 9 6a – the ‘Goldilocks’ principle 59
‘Architecting’ 10 □ Human measure 60
Studying the architectural mind at work 10 6b – some key points of measure 61
Drawing (and its limitations) 12 IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: human measure 62
The exercises 12 EXERCISE 7: social geometry 64
Interludes and observations 12 7a – social circle 64
Materials and equipment 12 7b – other situations framing social geometry 66
Keeping a notebook 12 □ A choir stall – personal and social geometry 68
Producing good work 13 IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: social geometry 69
EXERCISE 8: geometry of making 70
SECTION ONE – fundamentals 15 8a – form and geometry 70
Materials 16 8b – adding a roof 72
EXERCISE 1: the substance without substance 17 8c – parallel walls 72
1a – imposing an idea 17 □ Geometry of making – Welsh house 73
1b – centre 18 8d – try toothpicks… 74
1c – identification of place (by object) 18 □ Geometry of making – building materials 75
1d – introducing the person 18 IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: geometry of a house 76
1e – person at the centre 19 □ Geometries of being – regarding the circle 79
1f – identification of place (by person) 19 8e – squaring the circle 80
1g – circle of place 19 □ Geometry – Korowai house 81
1h – threshold 20 □ Geometry – Farnsworth House 82
IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: circles of place 21 □ Classic form – megaron variations 83
□ Urban circles of place 22 8f – roofing greater spans 84
EXERCISE 2: flipping perceptions 23 Corbel structures 84
2a – container for a dead person 23 □ Geometry of making – corbel dome 85
2b – pyramid 24 Columns and beams 86
2c – theatre and house 25 Arch 87
IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: examples of flipping 26 IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: structural geometry 88
□ Competing priorities 27 □ Conflict in geometry – for a poetic reason 89
□ Tensions 28 □ Geometry – attitudes 90
EXERCISE 3: axis (and its denial) 29 □ Mind–nature dialectic 91
3a – doorway axis 29 □ ‘God’s law’ 92
3b – quartering 30 □ Stretching the geometry of making 93
3c – relating to the remote 30 □ Disregarding the geometry of making 94
3d – temple 31 □ Excavation 94
□ A timeless syntax – ‘The Artist is Present’ 32 □ Sensational distortion 95
□ Axis in use – Woodland Chapel 33 8g – transcending the geometry of making 96
IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: exploring axis 34 IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: attitudes to the geometry
□ Axis in urban design 36 of making 97
3e – lines of doorways (enfilade) 37 EXERCISE 9: geometry of planning 98
□ Enfilade – lines of doorways 38 9a – squares, rectangles 98
3f – denying the axis 41 9b – parallel walls 99
□ Denying the axis – a few historical examples 43 9c – multi-room buildings 100
3g – senseless doorway axis arrangements 44 9d – relations with places open to the sky 102
IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: denying or avoiding axis 45 IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: enclosed places open
EXERCISE 4: doorway places 47 to the sky 104
4a – doorway place 47 □ Harmony of the rectangle 106
IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: doorway places 49 □ Modifying the rectangle 107
4b – hierarchies of transition 51 IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: modifying geometry 110
IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: hierarchies of transition 52 9e – columned spaces/free plan 111

ix
 IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: ‘free’ plan 113 □Prospect and refuge; refuge and arena 171
EXERCISE 10: ideal geometry 116 □Relationship with the horizon 172
10a – a (perfectly) square space 116 □Place and memory 173
10b – extending the square 117 □Uluru (Ayer’s Rock) 174
10c – cube 119 13c –
begin to make your place better 175
10d – problems with ideal geometry 120 Senses other than sight 176
□ Problems of thickness 121 EXERCISE 14: making places just by being 177
□ 9 Square Grid House 123 □ Richard Long 178
□ Fascinating geometry 1 124 14a – circle of place 179
□ Fascinating geometry 2 125 14b – modifying your circle of place 180
□ Fascinating geometry 3 126 Marker or focus 180
IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: ideal geometry 127 Performance place 181
□ Sphere 131 Doorways and axes 182
EXERCISE 11: axial symmetry 133 Temple, church, mosque 182
11a – axis of symmetry 133 14c – making places with people 183
□ Is perfect axial symmetry possible? 135 □ Australian aborigine place-making 186
11b – subverting axial symmetry 136 □ Ettore Sottsass 188
IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: symmetry and asymmetry 140 14d – anthropometry 189
□ Nuanced symmetry 142 EXERCISE 15: geometry of making 190
EXERCISE 12: playing with geometry 143 □ Nick’s camp 192
12a – layering geometry 143 □ Ray Mears – places in the landscape 193
12b – twisted geometry 146 EXERCISE 16: responding to conditions 194
12c – breaking ideal geometry 147 IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: responding to conditions 198
□ Forces beyond your control 149 EXERCISE 17: framing atmosphere 200
IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: forces beyond control 150 IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: draw your places 202
□ Artificial ruin – broken geometry 151 □ Drawing plans and sections 206
□ Geometry challenged by conditions 152 EXERCISE 18: measured drawing 208
12d – more complex geometry 153 EXERCISE 19: setting down space-time rules 210
Catenary curve 153 19a – make up your own spatial rules 212
Spiral 154 19b – experiment with time as an element 214
Möbius strip 156 IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: space-time rules 216
12e – distorting geometry 157
IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: distorted geometry 159 SECTION FOUR – additional exercises 217
□ Computer-generated form 161 EXERCISE 20: place descriptions in literature 219
□ Thinking in geometry 162 EXERCISE 21: architecture without sight 220
EXERCISE 22: eliciting an emotional response 221
SECTION THREE – out into the real world 163 EXERCISE 23: framing 222
EXERCISE 13: making places in the landscape 165
13a – preparation 165 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS 224
What you could learn 166
□ Place as frame 167 BIBLIOGRAPHY 224
13b – identify place by choice and occupation 168
IN YOUR NOTEBOOK: place-making by recognition 169 INDEX 226
□ Dunino Den 170

x Exercises in ARCHITECTURE
exercises in
A RCHIT EC T U R E
learning to think as an architect
SECO N D EDITIO N, R E VISED A N D WITH N E W E X ERCISES

1
‘Instruct them how the mind of man becomes
A thousand times more beautiful than the earth
On which he dwells.’ William Wordsworth – The Prelude, 1805.

‘… from the inside, work outwards… Let me illustrate: man (that

creature always before me, his size, his senses, his emotion)
is seated at his table. His eyes rest on the objects around him:
furniture, carpet, curtains, paintings, photographs and many other
objects meaningful to him. A lamp or the sun coming through
his window gives him light. There is light and there is shadow,
contrasting those extremes which have such a powerful effect on
our bodies and psyches: the light and the dark. The walls of the
room envelop him and his belongings. Our man gets up, wanders
around, leaves his room and goes somewhere else, no matter
where. He opens his front door and leaves home. He is still in a
house: corridor, stairs, elevator… Now he is in the street. What is
this outdoors like? Does it repel or does it attract? Is it safe or is it
dangerous? Our man is in the street of the town and then after, in
short succession, he is outside the town and in the countryside.
Not for a moment has he been free of architecture: furniture,
room, sunlight, artificial light, air, temperature, the arrangement
and function of his dwelling, the building, the street, the urban
environment, the town, the throb of the town, the countryside
with its paths, its bridges, its houses, plants and the sky, nature.
Architecture and town planning have affected his every move.
Architecture is implicit in every object: his table and chair, his
walls and rooms, his staircase or his elevator, his street, his town.
Delightful, commonplace or boring. Even disgust is possible.
Beauty or ugliness. Happiness or unhappiness. Town planning
concerned him from the moment our man rose from his chair:
the location of his house, of his neighborhood, the view from
his window as determined by the town councilors, the life of the
street, the pattern of the town. You can clearly see how not for
a moment could vigilance or care have been abandoned. You
can see the need for this fraternal dedication of architecture and
town planning on behalf of our “brother man”. Material needs and
spiritual appetites can be satisfied by a concerned architecture
and town planning. You can see the unified purpose, the totality of
the responsibility and the grandeur of the mission of architecture
and town planning. Many have yet to realize that at stake here is
brotherly concern for all. Architecture is a mission demanding
dedication of its servants, dedication to the dwelling (for dwelling
shelters work, possessions, institutions, and the thoughts of man, Le Corbusier, trans. Pierre Chase (1961) – Le
Corbusier talks with students from the schools of
as well). Architecture is an act of love, not a stage set.’ architecture (1943), 1999.

2
 PR ELU DE
t he e ssenc e of a rchitec t ure
3
PR ELU DE – t he essence of a rchitec t ure

L earning to do architecture is comparable to learning

language, except that architecture works in space and
material rather than words. That can make learning to do
birds, otters… But they gave all humanity the idea of the house
as home, a domain of privacy and protection.
In wall, doorway (and door) and roof we have three
architecture seem strange. As young people we become (four) of the most consequential of our prehistoric inventions.
practised in thinking in words but we tend not to develop our And yet they are taken for granted and don’t figure as such in
capacity for thinking in space and material. Both language the intelligent minds of eminent contributors to erudite books
and architecture mediate between us and the world. With the on the most creatively influential achievements of our earliest
elements of language we communicate needs, desires, beliefs, ancestors. What does this say about the general appreciation
intentions… With the elements of architecture we make places of architecture in our lives? It suggests that the universal
to accommodate life, activities, possessions, gods… By both language of place-making, by which we organise the space
we give sense to the world: verbally with language; spatially of the world to accommodate our selves, our possessions,
with architecture. Both are (infinitely?) flexible frameworks our activities, our gods… is largely taken for granted, under-
of identification and communication. Generally, depending stood mainly subliminally – only to the extent that we know
on our personal fluency, we can flex language to frame the intuitively when we see a place to sit down, not to try to walk
meanings we want to convey. Also depending on our fluency, through a wall, and not to cook food in the shower. It is as if,
we can flex architecture to frame the purposes we want to although we ‘know’ they are not, we treat our buildings, towns,
accommodate. Just as with language, we learn some archi- gardens… as if they are part of Nature and as such escape
tecture intuitively as we grow up – where to sleep, eat, play, conscious consideration (except perhaps in so far as we object
hide… But to become fluent, sophisticated, professional… we when we don’t like the way they look). But, as architects, we
must put in extra conscious effort. must see the world differently: as changeable for the better.
To develop as an architect you need to become conscious
I have an encyclopedia of the greatest inventions of prehistory. of the powers of architectural elements: the power of a line
The entries illustrate what its eminent contributors (mostly drawn in the sand; of a levelled area of ground to establish a
archaeologists) considered the most creatively influential place for a ceremony or performance; the power of a wall to
achievements of our earliest ancestors. Of course it includes separate one place from another; the power of a doorway to
‘fire’, ‘tools’, and ‘the wheel’. It also covers ‘weaving’, ‘writing’ allow access… and a door to control that access; the power of
(it does not have a distinct entry on ‘language’) and ‘weapons’. a roof to shelter or shade; the power of a pathway to link one
Eventually, it comes onto ‘houses’, ‘stone architecture’ and place with others...
‘tracks and roads’. But nowhere does it acknowledge ‘wall’, You have probably taken such architectural elements
‘doorway’, ‘roof’ or ‘pathway’ per se as great inventions of the and their powers for granted since you were born. As a child
distant past. Yet that is what they are. Someone somewhere you learnt about how they condition your experience of the
sometime built the first wall and gave humanity its primary world without consciously thinking about it. You learnt about
instrument for the organisation of space. That’s at least as big edges, thresholds, enclosure, how and where to sit at a table…
an invention as the wheel. You assimilated innumerable ways in which we interact with
Maybe that same person realised that the newly invent- the world. But to think as an architect you have to become
ed wall needed a gateway or doorway (complete with gate or conscious of these things. Just as a writer or politician uses
door) to allow passage from one side of the wall to the other. words and grammar, a musician notes and keys… so an archi-
That primeval doorway, with its door or gate as an instru- tect uses the elements and syntax of architecture.
ment of control, would become one of the most practically On the following few pages are some examples that
and symbolically powerful elements in the world we create remind me of the essence of architecture. They illustrate how
for ourselves, both physically and in our imaginations. (How architecture grows from our unselfconscious relationship
many children’s stories begin with passage through a portal?) with our physical surroundings. They illustrate how we are
Sometime later, someone somewhere had the idea of all architects innately, despite ourselves. The purpose of the
making a small walled enclosure, with a doorway and door, exercises that follow in this book is to bring out and develop
and covering it with a roof for shelter from rain and sun. They that innate architect in all of us. Just as with the exercises
probably thought they were making an artificial cave. Maybe we do when learning language, they start with the basics and
they were imitating other home-building animals – termites, move towards the more sophisticated.

4
T H E O R I G I N O F A RC H I T EC T U R E – place-making

I used to take first-year students to the beach and ask them, simply and without elaboration, each to ‘make a place’. Their
efforts were always entertaining, but often the most powerful places were those they made without thinking.

‘Observing that they were very

comfortable standing before the warm
fire, they put logs on… In that gathering
of men, at a time when utterance of
sound was purely individual, from
daily habits they fixed upon articulate
words… It was the discovery of fire
that originally gave rise to the coming
together of men… They began in that
first assembly to construct shelters.’
Vitruvius, trans. Hickey Morgan – The Ten
Books of Architecture (1stC BCE), 1914,
(Book 2, Chapter 1).

‘The first sign of human settlement

and rest after the hunt, the battle, and
wandering in the desert is today, as
when the first men lost paradise, the
setting up of the fireplace and the
lighting of the reviving, warming and
food-preparing flame. Around the
hearth the first groups assembled;
around it the first alliances formed;
around it the first religious concepts
were put into the customs of a cult.
Throughout all phases of society
the hearth formed that sacred focus
around which the whole took order and
On a chilly autumn evening amongst the dunes of a beach in Scotland a group shape.’
of first year architecture students has made a fire with driftwood. It is the end of Gottfried Semper – ‘The Four Elements
of Architecture’ (1851), in Semper, trans.
a day when the students have been asked to ‘make places’. But this is the most Mallgrave and Hermann – The Four Elements of
successful and the most powerful. This is a place they have made without really Architecture and Other Writings, 1989.
thinking about it… certainly without considering that it might constitute architec-
ture. Their previous efforts during the day were interesting, inventive, fun… but
somewhat self-conscious. But this one – the fireplace with them sitting, standing,
cavorting around it – is something different. The right word is difficult to find:
authentic; real; engaged…? They certainly identified a place, and as such created
a work of architecture. If that tentative group of sticks planted in the sand were
to be extended into an encircling pale fence then the place would be even more
clearly defined. If they engineered a sheltering roof over it, so much more so.
Gradually (notwithstanding the Biblical inadvisability of building a house on sand)
you can see this ephemeral moment growing into a home.
Notice that the students (or the one of them that established the focal hearth)
have made their place in a distinct bowl – a natural room – amongst the sand
dunes. Instinctively they recognised it as a (potential) place – a place appropriate
for a campfire – before they started the process of making it into one. (This factor
in architecture is the subject of exercises in Section Three of this book; see pages
168–9.) You can see even from my drawing that there are many locations that
would not have been suitable for a fire: on uneven ground; amongst the marram
grass; exposed to the breezes on the top of a dune… That instinct stretches to
recognising a place sheltered from wind, flat and stable for moving around, with This is Cesare di Lorenzo Cesariano’s
gently rising margins for sitting down, and without risk of causing a wild fire. Of illustration of the origin of architecture
course these would not have been factors in a flat open desert (and can easily from his translation of Vitruvius from Latin
be forgotten on the flat open desert of a blank sheet of paper) but still that hearth to Italian published in 1521. The Latin
would have been the seed for the growth of a place… and its vital heart. inscription refers to the Golden Age of
Maybe in the twenty-first century we no longer build homes around a hearth. Humanity when language, community and
architectural principles emerged around
But it is still worth remembering that architecture grows from life and its framing
the hearth. The assembly of friends
in place… just as language grows from life and its framing in words. Both have and family around a fire in the natural
grammar that can be adapted to many purposes. The spatial grammar of archi- landscape is a timeless scene. Such
tecture – the universal language of place-making – is the prime subject of the identification of place is the origin
exercises in this book. of architecture.

THE ORIGIN OF ARCHITECTURE – place-making 5

S E L L I N G A PPL E S – a girl ‘architects’ her world

The essence of architecture consists in giving form to a portion of the world, identifying and establishing it as a place and
managing spatial relationships. Here is an ad hoc example of a temporary work of architecture growing from a particular set
of circumstances – the over-abundance of apples on a suburban apple tree.

section

passer-by

house

gateway tree
table
apples

garden
girl
shadow
road

apple tree
grass verge
hedge
plan

It is a sunny day in early autumn. A young girl (we could call transfer merchandise. (They have also been places for the
her Eve) has decided to sell apples from the tree in her fam- dispensation of justice.) Building on this, and using other
ily’s garden. She places a barrow of apples just outside her things that are already there, Eve has established (identi-
gate and sits at a table nearby waiting for passers-by. This is fied the place of, given form to, ‘architected’) a rudimentary
an example of the ‘architect’ in everyone. shop for selling apples. For a short time, she has changed
Eve’s small composition of elements has more subtle- the world (a tiny part of it – the street that has become a
ties than you might at first think. It is positioned adjacent temporary market) and her self (into an architect and a shop
to, but not obstructing, the garden gateway, where she can keeper). Such is the power of architecture.
withdraw easily into her family territory (defined by the gar- Architecture is, of course, concerned with many other
den hedge) for more apples or for a drink, and where her things too – especially the construction of buildings (walls,
parents can watch to see she is all right (out there, in the roofs etc.) and the aesthetic and symbolic appearance of
threatening world). the results... neither of which are minor concerns – but it
As well as the barrow of apples, the girl has a small begins with giving form to places for occupation and use.
chair and table with a box of plastic carrier bags and a beaker And ‘giving’ in this sense includes responding to a need by
for money. She has arranged these minimal elements strad- both recognising the possibilities of things that are there (in
dling the walkway, to relate to rather than block the progress this example the pavement, hedge, gateway, tree...) as well
of a passer-by. Her back is protected by the hedge. She is as amending and adding to them (with the barrow, table,
shaded by a tree in the grass verge along the roadway... chair...). Eventually (if the planning authorities allowed) Eve
Through history, gateways (thresholds) have been might want to add a roof, walls, signage... to make a perma-
places of transaction. They are where we meet visitors and nent shop. Then she would worry about how to build it and
say farewell. It is natural that they also be places where we how it would look.

6
D EG AS’ V I T R I N E – making frames

Around 1880 Edgar Degas created a sculpture of ‘A Little Dancer Aged Fourteen’. The original conditions of its display – in
a glass case – illustrate the primary and essential role of architecture as frame-making.

Degas’ Little Dancer, modelled in wax with real hair and vitrined at the Paris Salon. Small and especially fragile
clothes, is in the National Gallery of Art, Washington DC. modern sculpture, like Little Dancer, however, appeared
The gallery website explains that: in cases in other exhibitions of contemporary art at the
‘Degas provided the Little Dancer with a vitrine, now turn of the century. Rather than clarify the sculpture’s
apparently lost, for display in two of the impression- content and relationship with the viewer, as a vitrine tra-
ist exhibitions, first in 1880, when the case was set up ditionally intended, Degas’ glass cage contributed to the
but the figure remained absent, and then in 1881, when figure’s volatile meaning.’ **
the case was installed at the opening of the exhibition Whatever Degas himself intended, the vitrine, vacant
and the figure appeared two weeks later. Various critics or occupied, constituted a work of architecture. Vacant, it
made much of the vitrine. For some, it served as Little identified the place the Little Dancer was to occupy, estab-
Dancer’s surrogate, standing empty in the galleries until lishing her presence even before her appearance: it laid
she arrived. Once the sculpture was placed inside, cer- claim to her space. Occupied, the vitrine is open to various
tain opponents dubbed the case a “glass cage” (cage de interpretations. Is it a ‘prison’ - a ‘cage’ as suggested? Is it a
verre) that reassuringly quarantined a dangerous child- shield protecting her from us? Is it a ‘temple’? Is it merely an
beast or medical specimen. For Callen,* the case rein- abstract geometric foil to her human form? Whatever… it is
forced the figure’s reading as a scientific display rather a frame that contributes to our appreciation of its content…
than as art, since, she argues, small sculpture was not i.e. it is architecture.

Mies van der Rohe’s Farnsworth House (1950) is a ‘vitrine’, a

* Anthea Callen – The Spectacular Body: Science, Method, and Meaning
in the Work of Degas, 1995. glass case intended to frame the life, present or absent, of its
occupant. (See Twenty-Five Buildings Every Architect Should
** nga.gov/features/modeling-movement/little-dancer-original-state.html Understand.)

DEGAS’ VITRINE – making frames 7

L A B A J O U L I È R E – a place enclosed

Although we tend to think of architecture in terms of buildings, their primary purpose is to identify and frame occupiable
places by definition and enclosure.

section with earth mound reinstated

La Bajoulière as it stands

The drawings on this page show a dolmen – a megalithic

burial chamber – in the Loire region of France. It was built
around five-and-a-half thousand years ago. The dolmen
is called La Bajoulière and encloses a dark interior with a
structure made of very large and very heavy flat slabs of
stone.
This is not an ephemeral place. What was gained by
the enormous amount of effort invested in its construction?
La Bajoulière was covered in a mound of earth, so what was
gained was not intended as an ornament (beautiful or oth-
erwise) in the landscape. What its construction did was to
create a dark and mysterious interior, separated from every-
where else – an antidote to the daunting uncertainties of the
world at large. It was secure enough to keep out marauding
animals and to contain restive spirits and jealous gods.
The architect of La Bajoulière, and those who built it,
made a place (in their case an artificial cave) that had not
existed before. It was also a place intended to be insulated
from the insecurities of life and the effects of time. In con-
trast to the changing world around, this was to be a perma-
nent place, a place of eternal peace, a tomb as a reciprocal
metaphor of the womb.
La Bajoulière illustrates the architecture drive: the
drive to amend our surroundings, to rearrange bits of them
to establish places by which to give sense to the world in
which we find ourselves. As such, architecture is as much
a medium of philosophy – expressed in spatial organisation
and place-making – as is verbal language. plan with earth mound reinstated

site section

8
I N T RODUC T ION
9
IN TRODUC T ION

I t can be difficult beginning to learn to do architecture.

You will have a notion of what architecture is – the design
of buildings – but when you start trying to do it the ground
enters into a proactive relationship with its surroundings and
gives sense to them by organising (recognising, choosing,
arranging, structuring, constructing, composing, moulding,
disappears from under you. Doing architecture is different, even excavating...) them into places for occupation and use.
fundamentally different, from (probably) anything you have In this sense architecture is not merely the art concerned
consciously done before. I say ‘consciously’ because one of with the cosmetic appearance of buildings, nor only the tech-
the ways to get a grip on doing architecture is to acknowledge nology concerned with their construction; it is fundamental
and awaken the architect that you already are: the architect to existence. We cannot live in the world without occupying
that used to make dens under tables and houses up trees, that and at least trying to give sense to it in terms of the places in
still sometimes huddles around a campfire or sits on the lip which we do things. Architecture is philosophical (without
of a precipice. The following exercises will help by giving you words). It is the medium through which we set the spatial
some ground to stand on, literally as well as metaphorically. matrix for just about everything we do. Understood in this
way, the challenges and responsibilities of being an architect
‘A RC H I T E C T I NG ’ are fascinating and exciting, but can also be daunting.
Everyone ‘architects’ their world – the physical (and
You are an architect but you want to explore what that means. philosophical) setting in which they live – at some level,
You would like to get better at architecture so you need to even if it is only setting up a temporary camp or arranging
practise. This book gives you some exercises that will help you furniture in a room. The present book (together with its sister
understand what it means to be an architect; how to begin to volume Analysing Architecture: the Universal Language
think architecturally and develop your skills and fluency in of Place-Making) addresses how your innate capacity for
this grand and subtle art. ‘architecting’ can be developed to more sophisticated levels
The first step is to realise that architecture is a doing where you might feel equipped and confident not only to
word. Non-architects may tend to treat buildings as products architect your own world but to offer (professionally) to
of providence rather than of minds with ideas. The media architect those of others too.
present buildings as objects to be looked at, enjoyed or criti-
cized (usually the latter). But you have to think of architecture STUDYING THE ARCHITECTUR AL MIND AT WORK
differently – as something you do rather than just use or look
at. There are buildings or even cities of the future that will As a mind wishing and willing to take on the challenges and
never come into existence without you conjuring them up in responsibilities of ‘architecting’ worlds for other people you
your mind first. There are gaps in the built fabric of the world must become a student of the ways in which the minds of
waiting to be filled by your imagination. You are not just a fellow architects work too. We can learn a great deal about the
spectator of architecture, you are a creator. workings and powers of architecture through analysing exam-
Even though architecture is one of the most fundamen- ples (as in the present book’s other sister volume Twenty–Five
tal things we human beings do in making the world in which Buildings Every Architect Should Understand). But, since
we live, it is represented in English only as a noun. ‘To design’, architecture is a doing word, an operational understanding of
‘to draw’, ‘to build’ do not adequately convey what it means, its workings and powers can only be acquired through prac-
if there were such a verb, ‘to architect’. tice, by trying to do it over and over again. We cannot learn
Incidentally, or perhaps significantly, the ancient Greeks language, to ride a bicycle or play the violin, merely by reading
did have a verb for doing architecture – άρχιτεκτονέω. It means how to do it or even by following diagrammatic instructions;
‘to give form to...’, as in: to give form to a house with its places we have to practise – babbling, wobbling, scratching and
to cook, eat and sleep; to give form to a theatre by drawing scraping – before we can become fluent or proficient. It is the
a circle on the ground surrounded by seats for spectators; to same with architecture: the more you practise, the more adept
give form to a city by laying out streets, squares and walls; at it your brain becomes and the more you discover what you
to give form to the temple of a god... can do with it. It is with this in mind that the present book
We could (and do) use the verb ‘to design’ for all these, offers some exercises for awakening and developing your
but somehow ‘to architect’ evokes something more profound, (already present, innate, latent, dormant) capacity for doing
a more primal relationship with the world, in which a mind architecture.

10
 Through architecture the mind sets the
spatial matrix for the things we do. By
giving form to the theatre, architects in
ancient Greece established a place for
performance and relationships between
actors, audience, landscape and the gods.

The following exercises are intended to help you to dimensions beyond pragmatics. The exercises in the present
practise and develop your ability to think and act as an book are intended to bring out some of the rich dimensions of
architect. They are the equivalent of the sorts of exercises you that ‘language’. They do not ignore the dimensions of function
would have been set to develop your ability to use language and identity but neither do they present challenges merely
and mathematics or might have been set to help you learn in the form of asking you to design a particular building
to think musically as a composer. Language, mathematics, type. The exercises in this book might best be considered as
music and architecture, are different modes of thought and limbering: exercises that you can do in preparation for or in
creativity but at the same time they are mutually analogous. parallel with more orthodox projects.
They are all media through which we make sense of (give The following exercises are based on an understanding
sense to) the world. They are all media which require intel- that architecture is, at origin, a human art concerned with
lectual practice to attain fluency and proficiency. Language human life, its experiences and accoutrements; and that
works with words and concepts; mathematics with number, human beings are not merely spectators of architectural
measurement and calculation; music with structured sounds, ‘performances’ but vital ingredients – propagators, modifiers,
time and emotions. Architecture works with the ground, users, inhabitants, participants…
space, material, light, time... The exercises here are not intended to persuade you
Though sometimes people combine these different to design in any one particular way but to help you become
media, each occupies its own intellectual realm, requires the aware, through exploration and experiment, of the varied
brain to work in its own way, and therefore requires prac- dimensions of architecture. Each will take as much time as you
tice on its own terms. You cannot, for example, learn to do can give it. Some will take no more than a few moments; others
architecture through writing words, any more than you could should take more than a day to complete. Great benefit will be
learn to do mathematics by playing the flute. The dimensions derived from repeating exercises, discovering new subtleties
of practice must be those of the medium you want to acquire. each time. The exercises should help you make thinking as an
Generally in schools of architecture the norm is to set architect a habit of mind, an abiding mode of consciousness.
projects in which students are asked to design a particular There are no right answers in architecture (though it is
building type, a work of architecture according to a speci- arguable that there are many ‘wrong’ ones). As I have already
fied brief (program): that of a school, a theatre, a museum, said, doing architecture is not like doing sums. You could
a house or whatever. This reflects the situation in the ‘real repeat each exercise over and over and produce different but
world’, where architects are usually commissioned to design equally good answers each time. This is something you should
buildings with a predetermined identity and brief. It also do. To be an architect you cannot be reticent about being cre-
reflects a long-standing belief that architecture derives, pri- ative; you should enjoy it. The exercises are opportunities. If
marily, from function. But architecture consists in more than you think of them as chores then perhaps it would be better
identity and function. It is a rich and varied ‘language’ that has to devote your time to a different subject. Architecture is a

INTRODUCTION 11
subtle and difficult art. It needs dedication and involves pain. a series of tasks. There are twenty-three exercises in all but
Being able ‘to architect’ is not a capacity that can be developed over sixty component tasks.
to sophisticated levels quickly. The ‘Fundamentals’ section deals with the basic drive
of architecture to establish (identify) place.
DR AW I NG (A N D I T S L I M I TAT IONS) The ‘Geometry’ section deals with the various kinds of
architectural geometry, as discussed in the ‘Geometries of
Drawing is essential to an architect. You cannot be an archi- Being’ and ‘Ideal Geometry’ chapters in Analysing Architec-
tect without being able to draw, even if acquiring that skill is a ture: the Universal Language of Place-Making.
struggle and you are resistant to practising. Drawing, howev- The ‘Out into the Real World’ section asks you to take
er, is an abstraction; whether on paper or a computer screen, the lessons you have learnt in the first two sections and apply
it reduces many dimensions to two. This can be problematic them in real situations by making (temporary) places in the
when trying to learn to do architecture which fundamentally landscape.
works in three dimensions (four, if you include time). For this And, as I say above, the ‘Additional Exercises’ section
reason, the exercises in this book ask you to work primarily focuses on the experiential and emotional dimensions of
with real materials, either children’s building blocks and a architecture as well as the framing of things that might be
bread board, or found materials in the landscape. You will promiscuous in their needs and characteristics.
also get a better feel for spatial arrangements and place-mak-
ing by using real materials than by confining yourself to 3d I N T E R LU DE S A N D OB SE RVAT IONS
modelling software; though, in due course, you will no doubt
also find this useful. Interspersed amongst the exercises you will also find some
Learning to do architecture involves a particular kind interludes and observations, short extra content that illus-
of learning. It is not a matter of learning a particular body of trates and discusses in detail some general issues that arise
knowledge – as one might in learning the facts of history – nor from the exercises. These are distinguished by being on boxed
is it about learning a particular method to follow to produce pages, as in the Prelude examples on pages 5 to 8, and add
a predictable outcome – as one might in following a recipe to breadth and depth to the themes covered by analysing spe-
produce a specific dish, or a formula to perform a particular cific examples as well as introducing some theoretical issues
calculation. Learning to do architecture is more like learning pertinent to their related exercises.
language than anything else – allowing your mind (intellect
and imagination) gradually to experience what it is able to do M AT E R I A L S A N D E QU I PM E N T
with a particular medium. So try not to get frustrated when
it is not easy. Learning to do architecture is not a matter of Any materials and equipment needed for each exercise are
following instructions. Even though it would be possible to listed where appropriate. The exercises in ‘Fundamentals’
offer instructions to produce particular kinds of architecture, and ‘Geometry’ sections are conducted using simple build-
such a method would diminish the contribution your own ing blocks and a flat board. Those in the ‘Out into the Real
imagination might make. World’ section are to be conducted using real materials in
Small children first learn language as an instrument, real locations in the landscape you have to hand. Some of the
they use it to do things: to get more food; to ask someone to ‘Additional Exercises’ involve building full-scale installations.
open the door; to have teddy returned to them from the floor...
Think of architecture in the same way. Think what you can K E E PI NG A NO T E B O OK
use a wall, a doorway, a window, a roof... to do. Consider this
before you wonder what it should be made of or will look like. You will also need a good notebook – as described in Ana-
lysing Architecture – in which to catch ideas, record and
T H E E X E RC I SE S reflect on designs, experiment with draft designs, and to store
information from a mixture of sources that might be relevant
The following exercises are divided into four sections. The to your work. Keeping a notebook is a serious and enjoyable
first three are ‘Fundamentals’, ‘Geometry’ and ‘Out into the activity. You will find your own way of doing it. But, initially
Real World’. The fourth provides some ‘Additional Exercises’ at least, it does require commitment. Keeping a notebook is
intended to reinforce your appreciation of the experiential and essential to becoming an architect. We learn to do things not
emotional – poetic – dimensions of architecture. Each section so much by being told or shown how to do them (though both
contains a number of exercises, each of which is divided into listening and watching play their part) but most effectively

12
by engaging our own minds and bodies with the medium in idea you encounter or have but you can usually draw them.
which we want to work and discovering for ourselves what A plain notebook is a good arena in which to collect and
we can do with it. Very young children do this with language. experiment with architectural ideas and forms. Engaging with
In their minds they collect words and ideas, and put them architecture in this way will increase your appreciation of its
together in their attempts to talk. Gradually their language powers and possibilities. Keeping a notebook should become
becomes more and more sophisticated. a habit you continue throughout your career.
You need to do something similar to learn the ‘language’ Through the present book – in sections headed ‘In Your
of architecture. Like the child with ideas and words, you Notebook’ – you will be prompted to follow up and underpin
should collect architectural ideas and the forms by which they the exercises by collecting pertinent examples in your note-
are manifest, and experiment with them in your own work. book and experimenting with the ideas introduced.*
But (unlike the child and language) you cannot do this just in
your mind. Architecture depends on physical manifestation PRODUC I NG G O OD WOR K
or representation. You need an appropriate ‘arena’ in which
to engage with it. It is impossible to build every architectural The American poet Alfred Joyce Kilmer (1886–1918) once
wrote ‘I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree’.**
* You can download pdfs of some of my notebooks at: Though he did not deny outright the possibility that someone,
simonunwin.com (July 2021).
I also discuss the content of my notebooks at: perhaps he, might write a poem as ‘lovely as a tree’, this line is
drawingmatter.org/keeping-a-notebook/ (July 2021). sometimes interpreted as suggesting that nothing the human
** Alfred Joyce Kilmer – ‘Trees’ (1913). mind may conceive can aspire to equal the beauty of natural

INTRODUCTION 13
creation. Leaving aside the sophistry for the mind that it itself Concoction, composition, direction, invention, ingenu-
could be said to be a part of Nature (and hence that poems are ity, strategy are all synonyms for architecture. These consti-
themselves natural creations!), that suggestion, certainly for tute the challenges that face you. You are asked to produce
an architect, should be resisted. Doing architecture is not a architectural poems more lovely than trees. And that means
matter of abdicating responsibility to Nature. celebrating and taking joy in the creative capacity of your own
You can enjoy a film, or a piece of music, or a detective mind… and not by conceding precedence to the presumed
story... But when you think about it, you realise that what you authority of Nature, but working with it.
are really enjoying is the creative capacity of another human Taking joy in the creative capacity of your mind is not
mind. You take vicarious pleasure in seeing what a fellow mind a passive activity. It means filling your imagination with
can do. You can be entertained by the ingenious way in which what others have done. It means being prolific and generous
Sherlock Holmes (or Inspector Morse) solves a case but at the with ideas. It means understanding the cultural and physical
same time (and perhaps subliminally) you appreciate more conditions within which you are working. It means rigour
Conan Doyle’s (or Colin Dexter’s) achievement in concocting in thinking things through, moulding your ideas to the task
the story. You can laugh at Jeeves and Bertie Wooster (or the in hand. Architectural design is not a simple linear process
occupants of The Office) but it is the author P.G. Wodehouse like following a formulaic procedure, it involves much trial,
(or Ricky Gervais) that deserves the major portion of the repeated attempts and amendments, to try to make your
applause. You can be enraptured by the sensuality of a trio intentions work. In this too it can be compared to language, as
from the opera Cosi Fan Tutte but you are also admiring the in when you write and rewrite a text to make it say just what
subtlety and wit of Mozart’s composition. You can be capti- you want it to. It also requires care in presenting your ideas
vated by the imagery in the film Nostalghia but you are also and consideration in the places you make for other people. It
impressed by Tarkovsky’s imagination and direction. involves self-critical reflection and a willingness to redo work
There are two analogies I tend to use in all my books, over and over again until you feel it is right.
hopefully to help you understand what doing architecture There is no standard methodology for producing great
entails, though neither is exact. Both involve the mind in architecture. All these exercises can do is lead you into areas
the processes of making (giving) sense, and both involve the where you might begin to realise how architecture works and
dimension of time. They are language (verbal language) and discover some of its limitless potential. Greatness is up to you
music. Doing architecture can be likened to linguistic and to but understanding what is possible might help.
musical composition. All three involve fluency, judgement and This book of exercises should be read in conjunction
‘having something to say’ (i.e. ideas). All three involve taking with my other books (all published by Routledge):
a recipient (reader, listener, inhabitant, visitor…) through • Analysing Architecture: the Universal Language of
serial experiences that involve both meaning and emotion. Place-Making;
The burden of language may be said to be to make sense of • the related Analysing Architecture Notebooks, which
the world through semantic meaning; the primary burden of include: Metaphor, Children as Place-Makers, Shad-
music might be said to be emotional involvement. The primary ow and Curve;
burden of architecture is to give sense to the world through • An Architecture Notebook: Wall;
place-making, which involves meaning and emotion too. • Doorway;
And another characteristic shared by language, music • Twenty-Five Buildings Every Architect Should
and architecture is that proficiency takes a long time and much Understand; and
application. It takes us years as a child to master language. • The Ten Most Inf luential Buildings in History:
Music performers and composers practise daily. It’s the same Architecture’s Archetypes.
for architecture. Fluency takes a long time and much practice. Other recommended reading is included in the Bibli-
The aesthetic appreciation of creative work veils a pro- ography at the end of this book. You might also like to follow
found celebration of the perception, intelligence, imagination, @analysingarchitecture on Instagram, where you will find posts
judgement, inventiveness, ingenuity, intellectual skill of the related to the content of all my books, including animations
human mind. The same is equally true of appreciating a to illustrate some of the points made in this one.
finely honed philosophical argument, a clever and productive There is more to architecture than can be encompassed
scientific experiment, an economical and efficient computer in the following few exercises. I hope, however, they will
program, an exquisite musical composition, a ruthless and introduce you to the challenges of thinking as an architect.
elegant strategy in chess... and of course a beautiful, poetic,
inventively conceived work of architecture. Simon Unwin, April 2022

14
An animated version of these images, along with other relevant material, is available on Instagram:
instagram.com/analysingarchitecture (posted June 6, 2021).

SEC T ION ON E
f unda ment a ls
15
SECTION ONE – f undamentals

T hese first exercises explore the fundamentals of archi-

tecture. They will involve you in doing things, so you will
need to be prepared to find that old set of building blocks you
There are many other examples that stretch into adult
life. We give form to quantity with number and learn the rules
of mathematics. Visual shape can be represented not only
played with when you were small. You will also need your in two dimensions by drawing and painting but also three
notebook and a pencil. dimensionally in sculpture, by moulding clay and carving
Architecture originates in the mind but its products wood or stone. Movement is given form in dance and gym-
are (or at least they are intended to be) real. An architect’s nastics. Passing time is given form by clocks and calendars.
intention is to build real buildings, with real materials, in real By following recipes we give form to our food. By knitting a
conditions, to accommodate real people. To begin to develop jumper we give form to wool. We make each other laugh in
your capacity for architecture it is necessary to experience it, the form of jokes. Maps give form to the layout of cities and
as far as possible, as a physical as well as intellectual activity. land. We give form to our understanding of the workings
To some extent this can be done by building models but it also of Nature through science. Journalists give form to chaotic
means going outside – to the beach or into the woods – col- events by turning them into news stories. Morality is given
lecting and assembling stuff, and making real places. (You will form through religion and philosophy, and set down as laws.
be asked to do this in the third set of exercises in this book.) Social relationships are given form through friendship and the
Even so, because of the expensive and time-consuming structure of organisations. We even attempt to give conflict
nature of building, it rapidly becomes impractical to build all form by the rules of games or military strategy.
your ideas in reality. You will need to become proficient as an This list is far from complete; life involves giving form
architect before anyone will be willing to spend good money to all sorts of things. We make sense of our world by giving
on making your ideas into real buildings. So you must learn it form. But what is it that we give form to with architecture?
to do architecture in abstract. You will have to understand the The answer might seem obvious: buildings. But the following
relationship between reality, including the imagined reality of exercises will show that it is not quite that simple. Architecture
your architectural ideas, and its representation in models and has many substances.
drawing. This involves intellectual as well as manual practice.
These then are the two aims of this first set of exercises: M AT E R I A L S
to explore the fundamentals of architecture through playing
with real materials – your blocks – and to learn about what You will need your set of children’s building blocks, preferably
it is that we give form to with architecture. not ones that clip together. You could do some of the following
Growing up and being human involves recognising and exercises using clip together blocks (such as Lego) but, since
giving form to lots of things and learning how to do so. We live they impose strict geometric rules and can be stuck together in
by form. The first form we encounter is probably our mother’s ways that defy gravity, you will have more flexibility and gain
face with its orderly arrangement of eyes, nose and mouth. a more realistic sense of structure if you use simple wooden
Soon after we learn that sound can be given form as a tune blocks. (These too also have their geometric predisposition
or lullaby, with its orderly arrangement of notes in rhythm. – though not so rigid – but we shall talk about that later.) For
Our days follow a pattern of sleeping and being awake which the ground on which to build you will need a flat board – a
gradually comes to match that of night and day. Slowly we large bread board or small drawing board will do.
realise that thoughts can be given form in language, through It is important too that you do not do these exercises on
words and sentences. We might learn to draw, first scribbling a computer using 3D software such as SketchUp. You need
but then acquiring the skill of making marks to look like a to experience how your blocks, with their inevitable small
cat, a house, our mother’s face... Eventually we learn to write, irregularities, behave and relate to each other in gravity.
giving visible form to our language with an alphabet of letters Gravity is a prime condition of architecture in the real world.
and vocabulary of words. The ‘substances’ being given form You will also need a small person, the smallest ‘artists’
in each of these cases is different. In a tune it is the sound manikin you can find (two or three will be better).
of a voice. The substance given form in language is thought Do not worry that these exercises might seem a childish
expressed as sound shaped into words and sentences; that start to learning to do architecture; there is a lot you can learn
of drawing, visual shape represented in two dimensional about the substances and workings of architecture using such
marks on paper. simple materials. The small person, however, is essential.

16
E X ERCISE 1: t he subst a nc e w it hout subst a nc e
In this exercise you will begin to explore the activities of Your pile of blocks has no form other than that produced
giving form and making places, which lie at the heart of all by the chance way they have fallen. Now do the first thing
architecture. The exercise introduces the two fundamental every child is encouraged to do by a parent: build a tower as
substances of architecture: material and space. You will high as you can.
be familiar with giving form to material – clay, cardboard,
building blocks... – but the suggestion that you can give form
to space might seem a little strange.
We tend to understand the world as a collection of
objects, physical things that we can see and possibly touch:
a book; a tree; a motor car; a leaf; a sweater; an ocean; a
sandwich... Such consist of physical material: paper, wood,
metal, cellulose, wool, water, bread, cheese... Buildings
are made of physical materials too: stone, brick, glass,
concrete, timber, titanium, copper... and we can see them
too as objects. But the first (and trickiest) thing to understand
about architecture is that in it we give form to space as well
as to physical material.
The activity of giving form is intellectual and physical.
Put simply: you have an idea about what you want to make;
you choose your material; and you impose your idea onto it.
For example: you have an idea of making a model of a horse;
you choose clay; you mould the clay into the form of a horse.
But how can you impose an idea onto space, which you cannot
touch? This first exercise will help you begin to understand
spatial ideas and how space can be given form. It will also
take you a significant step further. It will demonstrate how This is your first architectural idea. It may not be origi-
you give space the architectural equivalent of meaning; how nal – it was given to you by your first architecture tutors, your
you make a ‘place’. parents – but it is nevertheless powerful. The tower could
never have conceived, let alone built, itself. Neither chance nor
E X E RC I SE 1 a – imposing an idea any of the mindless processes according to which the universe
operates could have produced it. Its existence originated not
Find your building blocks and a rectangular board – 300mm in Nature but in imagination. (All your architectural projects
(12") by 450mm (18") will be adequate. Begin by playing as will depend on your imagination having ideas… or perhaps
you would have done when you were a child. Empty the blocks at least seeing potential in ‘borrowing’ them from elsewhere,
onto the board. from the imaginations of others.)
The tower is a manifestation of the capacity of your
mind to give form: to have an idea and, by the dexterity of
your hand, to impose that idea on to physical material – in
this case, your building blocks.
Even though this activity is commonplace, it is still
astonishing. It is a manifestation of your agency as a sentient
and creative being. When you were small you were possibly
so affected by the power manifest in your tower – your ability
to assert your will over matter to realise an idea – that you
knocked it over, laughing excitedly; returning the blocks to a
state of formlessness. (And if another child built a tower, you
might have been mean enough to demolish that too.)

E X E R C I S E 1: t h e s u b s t a n c e w i t h o u t s u b s t a n c e 17
 E X E RC I SE 1c – identification of place (by object)

You have built your tower in the artificial setting of a rectangu-

lar board with a measurable centre. Now imagine your tower
as an obelisk in featureless open countryside. (Imagining
ideas in real settings is essential to doing architecture.) In
this situation, without a definite measurable centre to occupy,
your tower establishes its own.
Your tower gives the landscape a centre it did not pre-
viously have. It creates a place, a specific location amid the
featureless surroundings. It establishes a point of reference
in relation to which you would know where you were.

Form can return to formlessness by disruption, entropy, malice…

(earthquake, neglect, war…).

E X E RC I SE 1b – centre

You built your tower as a material object but it stood in space,

the space defined by your board (on the floor or table, in the
room where you are). You can begin to understand space as
a substance of architecture by thinking about the power of
putting an object in a specific location.
You probably built your tower somewhere near the cen-
tre of your board though perhaps without plotting its location Stop imagining. Return your attention to the tower in
exactly. Now measure the exact centre of your board (the easi- the centre of your board.
est way is by drawing diagonals) and rebuild your tower there.
E X E RC I SE 1d – introducing the person

Next, find your small person – a small ‘artists’ manikin will

be perfect. Stand it on the board, looking at the tower. You
are not doing this to add scale (though it does that too) but
to model the relationship between the tower and the person.

Your tower has now acquired a special presence. The

centre is a privileged location; there is only one of them, as
against any number of locations that are NOT the centre. The
centre of a space possesses its own authority. Sense the power
your tower has now acquired, not just as an object but as the
marker of a significant place.

18
 Empathise with your person. (Empathy too is essential You too (like the tower) establish a centre in the land-
in architecture.) You are looking at this tower that occupies the scape. You too identify a place. But you are a living centre;
centre of your world. The tower is the object of your attention. you move; you need room to do things, to live, to dance. You
Consider your relationship with it. need space.
Maybe you are in awe of the tower, subject to its man- The person is essential to architected space. The tower
ifestation of power. Maybe you worship it. Maybe you are you built represented your presence as its perpetrator. It
suspicious of its arrogance and want to challenge its author- gave permanence to your ephemeral presence, but it did not
ity by throwing stones at it or demolishing it. Maybe you accommodate you.
acknowledge it as a datum place that provides your world
with a symbolic centre of gravity; you know where you are E X E RC I SE 1g – circle of place
by reference to it.
Using the centre you have already marked on your board, with
E X E RC I SE 1e – person at the centre pencil and string, draw a circle as large as possible.

Demolish the tower... Take the object away and put your
person (your self) in its place right at the centre of the board.
Now it is the person (you) that occupies the special
privileged position.

This is your second architectural idea. The circle of place

is essential to architecture. It is the antithesis of the tower
seen as an object. Even the tower generates a circle of place
around it.* Now stand your person at the centre of the circle.
E X E RC I SE 1 f – identification of place (by person)

Now, as you did with your tower, imagine yourself out in that
featureless open countryside.

* See also the chapter on ‘Geometries of Being’ in Analysing Architecture:

the Universal Language of Place-Making.

E X E R C I S E 1: t h e s u b s t a n c e w i t h o u t s u b s t a n c e 19
 This circle is not just an abstract geometric shape
(such as you would have drawn in school geometry lessons).
It delimits a space that belongs to you in the form of your
manikin. The circle identifies a place but not in the same way
as the tower. It frames space. And the person occupies the
frame as a place to be (rather than look at). The circle defines,
literally, the circumstance of the person. The person is no
longer a spectator (as of the tower) but a participant in this
rudimentary work of architecture, its essential ingredient.
In drawing the circle on the ground (the board) you
have begun to give form to space – the substance that has
no substance. In framing a place, your circle draws a line – a
boundary – between a specific inside and everywhere else, the
great outside. Framing place is fundamental to architecture.
And the frame, whether merely a circle drawn in the sand,
the walls of a building, the fortifications of a medieval city… Use your imagination again, to role play. Imagine how it
mediates between content – occupants and their activities – feels: to stand at the edge; to step over the line; to enter the cir-
and context – the great outside. cle, to move around inside, and then to occupy the privileged
The circle on the ground defines a boundary and asserts place precisely at its centre. Consider the difference between:
a claim for possession of space that, in the real world, might being outside; being inside; and the strangely unresolved state
have to be defended. Circles of place can be as small as the of being in-between, just on the line, neither inside nor out.
saucer where your cup of tea rests, or as large as a country. In Consider what it means to stand at the centre: does it give you
our homes we each have our circle of place. We make sense of power or make you self-conscious, as the object of unwelcome
the world in which we live in terms of circles of place. attention? Architecture deals in these four basic positions.
Do this role play adopting different personas in different
E X E RC I SE 1 h – threshold scenarios. Recognise the circle as an instrument of social
relationship. Enter the circle first as the person who drew it
As well as establishing a boundary, the line of the circle and claims to be its rightful occupant. Then do it as a welcome
defines a threshold – an interface where you pass from out- visitor to someone else’s circle, maybe waiting for permission
side to inside and back again. As an emotional prompt, the to enter, and then getting a hug when you do. Then as a suspect
threshold is at least as powerful, architecturally, as the centre. stranger; a trespasser; a thief; an attacker intent on taking the
The two work in tandem. the circle marks the horizon of the circle for your own... Will your intrusion be resisted? Stand
centre’s place. outside the circle as someone who is not allowed to enter,
Stand your person just outside the circle, facing in. excluded, ostracised, exiled.
Watch as a privileged person – a priest, a ‘noble’, a man
(or a woman) who is allowed to go inside the circle and even
stand at the centre – crosses the line. Stare at the person who
is now isolated from the world by the circle. Imagine yourself
as that privileged person being stared at. Be aware of the mix
of emotions prompted by your relationship with this simple
(simplest possible?) work of architecture. Recognise that
drawing a circle on the ground can be a political, and provoc-
ative, act; giving form to space for human occupation always
is. You are beginning to witness, and see the possibilities of
manipulating, some of the powers of architecture as it gives
form to space.

Compare also with the anecdote of the girl on the beach drawing a circle
around herself and saying ‘whoever comes into my circle is my friend’ in
Children as Place-Makers, p. 113, and The Ten Most Influential Buildings In
History: Architecture’s Archetypes, p. 72.

20
I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : ci rcle s of plac e
centre

Parthenon

temenos
circle of place

Prehistoric stone henges (above is Castlerigg stone circle in

England) established circles of place in the wider landscape. They
are interpreted as having been arenas for ritual or ceremony.
The Parthenon temple frames a ‘centre’ – once occupied by threshold
a statue of the goddess Athena – of a sacred ‘circle’ of place –
temenos – defined by the rocky edges of the Acropolis in Athens
(right). The circle’s entrance (threshold) is defined and framed by a
gateway building – the Propylaea (at the front in the drawing).

In your notebook... collect circles of place. Record them as simple drawings with
notes describing where they are and how they are defined. ‘Circles of place’ do not
have to be circular; they might be rectangular or irregular. They may be tiny or
huge. They might have boundaries that are defined clearly or dissipate gradually into
their surroundings. Consider whether they manifest the circle of place of a centre
(which itself might not be geometrically central) – like the churchyard around a
church. Or whether they define an arena, an area for movement, activity – like a
market place or the orkestra of a Greek theatre. Some examples you find may be a
combination of both circle of presence and arena.
Bring to mind circles of place from your memory: perhaps the circle you drew
in chalk on the pavement to play marbles with your friends; or the circle you and
your schoolmates made around a playground fight.
Become conscious of circles of place you encounter in your surroundings
and depicted in the media. Draw as much as you can but also note characteristics
that cannot be drawn easily: the relationship of a circle of place (an ancient stone
circle perhaps) to a distant feature in the landscape; variations in the consistency
An ancient Greek theatre establishes a or texture of the ground (as around a green on a golf course, which is the circle of
circle of place, an arena for performance – place around the hole with its marker flag). Consider too how circles of place are
the orkestra – surrounded by spectators.
made other than by drawing a line on the ground; by, for example: the canopy of a
tree; temperature (as around a fire); sound (as around a speaker or musician); smell
(as around curry cooking on the stove or a particularly malodorous person); light
(as around a candle or projected by a spotlight); wi-fi (as around a hub).
Be aware of circles of place that have personal meaning to you; and also
those that might have wider public significance. Your family will remember where
and when your much-loved cat was buried when it died, whereas a large number
of fans will remember where and when England won a significant cricket match
against Australia – e.g. at the Sydney Cricket Ground (an arena) in January 2011.
There is no time limit to this notebook exercise. You could still be collecting
circles of place for decades to come. As an architect it is essential that you can see
the world in terms of circles of place and understand how and why they are made.
The establishment of circles of place lies at the core of doing architecture. Not
A tree creates circles of place with its only will you need to recognise them in the world around you, you will also have
canopy and with its shadow. responsibility for creating, defining, establishing them for others.

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: c irc les of plac e 21

U R B A N C I RC L E S O F PL AC E

Circles of place can be identified at all scales, from the circle

the boy on the cover of this book is drawing about himself
in the sand (and smaller – a table, a saucer, a microscope
slide…) to whole countries, whole planets and their solar
systems, galaxies… Architecture tends to operate in the mid
range, from personal and domestic circles of place up to
circles of place at the urban scale.

Since ancient times the circles of place of some cities have been
defined by defensive walls. On the right is the city of Dubrovnik
on the coast of the Adriatic Sea. Its (spiritual rather than geomet-
ric) centre is its principal church (at a) or perhaps the altar at that
church’s focus. And as with any other city it comprises innumera- a
ble subsidiary circles of place, from small house courtyards and
gardens to monastic cloisters and public squares. Circles of place
are not just spaces, they are spaces with meaning, places where
things happen – where people gather, live, eat, sell things, play
games… or even just move from one place to another.

Sometimes urban spaces are clearly Islands are ready-made circles of place.
defined as circles (or ovals). Above is the On the right is the Isola S. Giulio on Lake a
Piazza S. Pietro in Rome. Its geometric Orta in Italy. Although its geometric centre,
centre is occupied by an ancient Egyptian on the island’s highest point, is occupied
obelisk, the moving shadow of which by a large Benedictine monastery, its
makes the Piazza into a daily and seasonal spiritual centre is the Basilica di S. Giulio
clock. This circle of place embraces (at a). The rest of the island, especially the
Roman Catholics that come to hear edges, is crammed with other buildings
pastoral messages from the Pope. accessed by a loop of road.

Whether a village green or a city square,

urban circles of place are rarely circular (or
even oval). A village green – this (left) is
Rhiwbina Garden Village in Cardiff – is the
heart of a community, where village fêtes
are held and games of cricket played. The
Campo dei Fiori in Rome (right) frames
the city’s flower market. Both are lined
and defined by dwellings, shops, cafés or
pubs… with their entrances onto the circle
of place. This feeds their life.

Whether designing a house, a garden, a

city… it is well to be sensible to identifying
and creating circles of place that have
meaning, i.e. live.

22
E X ERCISE 2: f l ippi ng perc ept ion s
Together, the tower and the circle (of Exercise 1) constitute the ‘Big Bang’ of
architecture. They manifest the ‘moment’ when the mind imposes an idea on (asserts
its will over) the world as found. When the mind begins to intervene, the world is
changed. The tower and circle identify place in different ways. But together they
constitute the reciprocal substances of architecture: matter (physical material)
and (occupiable) space. In Exercise 2 we shall see how perception of a work of
architecture can flip between the two.

E X E RC I SE 2 a – container for a dead person

1
One of the oldest types of permanent building is a burial chamber. We can use it
in this exercise as a simple example of how material and space work together in
architecture.
First, lie your person as a corpse at the centre of the circle you have already
drawn on your board (1).
‘Draw’ (i.e. build) a ‘circle’ in standing ‘stones’ (blocks) around the body.
Your dead friend is not going to need any living space, so draw the circle of stones
tight around the body, distorting it as necessary (2). This ‘circle’ of stones frames
the body. Give it a roof of larger stones (3), entombing the body. You have made a
burial chamber similar to La Bajoulière on page 8.
Stand another (living) person on the board, looking at the burial chamber (4).
2
This person sees your construction of stones as an object standing on the ground.
You assembled the stones to give form to space, the substance without
substance. Your purpose was to identify an interior place, an enclosed space for
occupation, in this case by your dead friend. But the person outside sees the burial
chamber as an object; sees it in terms of giving form to physical material. This is a
characteristic flip in the perception of works of architecture. You live in your house
and do many things in its spaces; but, standing outside or in your imagination,
you and others see the house as an object. (Is a jug an object or the void for fluid it
contains?* Is a book an object or the story it contains?)
Shortly we shall look at giving form to space for the living but for the moment
we shall stay with architecture for the dead. 3

4
‘If we find a mound in the forest, six foot long and three foot
wide, formed into a pyramid shape by a shovel, we become
serious and something within us says, “Someone lies buried
here”. This is architecture.’
* See Martin Heidegger, trans. Hofstadter– ‘The Thing’ (1950), in – Poetry, Adolf Loos – Architecture (1910), trans. in Benton and Benton, eds. – Form
Language, Thought, 1975. and Function, 1975.

EXERCISE 2: flipping perceptions 23

1 2

E X E RC I SE 2b – pyramid

Many ancient burial chambers were covered with earth (previous page), which
suggests their architects thought of them less as objects and more as interior spaces,
artificial/metaphorical caves (wombs) within artificial hills. Even so, a mound may
be seen in the landscape as an object. And your (the architect’s) mind might turn
to thinking about how it should look. From the primary intent of giving form to
a small space for the containment of a dead body, attention could turn to giving 3

appropriate form to the external appearance of the tomb.

You might for example, as the ancient Egyptians did at huge scale, decide to
form your mound in the ideal geometric shape of a four-sided pyramid finished
with shaped stone blocks (1).
But however dramatic it might be silhouetted against the setting desert sun,
the pyramid may be conceptually dismantled, stripping it back to the chamber
at its centre (2, 3, 4) and ultimately to the notional circle of presence around the
corpse of the Pharaoh (5), from which the work of architecture – burial chamber
and pyramid – began.
In the pyramid, solid matter has been given an ideal geometric form but
its architecture depends on the space for occupation by the corpse at its centre,
however small that place may be.
4
Notice that, in the form of that core space, the distorted circle of the burial
chamber has become a rectangle. There is a formal resonance between the person
(dead or alive), the world with its four cardinal directions (east, south, west, north)
and the geometry of making inherent in the processes of building, which is mani-
fest in the rectangle. In architecture the circle of place is often transformed into a
rectangle. In later exercises, we shall look further at the relationship between the
rectangle, the person and the processes of making buildings.
The burial chamber and pyramid were places for the dead. Next we shall begin
to explore giving sense to places for the living. And they are going to need more
space to move around and to breathe. The places we inhabit as living breathing
social beings are a lot more complex than those adequate for lifeless corpses. We
need to keep warm, to sleep, to eat, to work with others. We make places to store
our belongings and to engage in particular activities. We make places for our gods
according to our beliefs and values. 5

24
‘A good room does not present itself like a picture… all its
relationships, even that with the sun, first take on meaning
when it has us in its embrace, and we really need to be in
the room itself to appreciate it, feeling the extent to which it
inspires and relaxes us. So we arrive at a paradox: the better
a room seems in a picture, taken as it were through a hole in
the wall, the more questionable is the room itself, for a good
room without its inhabitants is nothing and “empty”. It is
made “full” and given meaning by the act of inhabitation.’
Bruno Taut (1924), quoted in Peter Blundell Jones – Modern
Architecture Through Case Studies, 2001.

E X E RC I SE 2c – theatre and house

Begin again with the circle. This time, rather than having a
static (dead) person at its centre, populate the circle with peo-
ple interacting (right). The space inside the circle becomes an
arena for life open to public view: a performance place – the
orkestra of an ancient Greek theatre; a place for combat – the
dojo for sumo wrestling; or perhaps a place for ritual, open these creates its own ‘circle of place’ within the larger circle
debate or the dispensation of justice. of place enclosed by the walls. Together they establish a spa-
Next, begin to make the circle into a private and shel- tial rule system (like the court or pitch on which a game is
tered place – a house. We shall assume that your place for played) that conditions and suggests, if not determines, how
life is in a climate that may be wet and cold, so put a hearth the space may be used. These circles of place relate to each
at the centre of the circle and sit your people around it being other and interact: there is ‘your bed’ and ‘the other person’s
sociable (below left). bed’; the table is in reach from both the beds. The fire radiates
The hearth provides a focus for life in the circle; the fire its warmth over the beds but is contained by the walls. Notice
will be useful for cooking as well as keeping you warm. The too that the doorway establishes its own threshold/entrance
arena has begun to be an exclusive and comfortable enclave, place. Of course your doorway will have a door, and the house
a home. You can imagine the hemisphere of light and warmth a roof to shelter it from the weather. On a circular house, the
emanating from the fire, with the people sitting inside. roof might be a conical structure of branches tied together
The inhabitants of this rudimentary home are going to and covered with thatch.
need privacy and a bit more space than the corpse, so this With its roof on, the house, like the burial chamber,
time build an enclosing wall at least as large as the circle on may be seen in two different ways: a person looking from
your board (below middle). The corpse was going to stay put; outside sees it as an object in the landscape and begins to
but your living inhabitants will want to go in and out of their wonder whether it looks beautiful or how it might be made
house, so you will need to leave a gap in your wall as a doorway. to look better (in whatever way); but an inhabitant sees it
Now think of a simple way of organising the inside to as an interior place, a refuge into which to withdraw from
accommodate the inhabitants’ activities. Here (below right) I the world to sleep in warmth and safety and commune with
have provided two beds either side of the central hearth and family. Architecture deals in both perceptions, giving form
a table for the inhabitants’ possessions. Notice that each of to space and to the object.

EXERCISE 2: flipping perceptions 25

I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : ex a mple s of f l ippi ng
In your notebook... collect examples of perceptions flipping.
Find a very small dwelling – a one-roomed building in which
someone lives. It might be your own house or one you find
in a book. You will, however, need to be able to tell how the
e
space of the house is used. Do a careful drawing, in plan, of
a
b how the space of the house is arranged: draw the furniture,
rugs, bedding... as accurately (in size and position) as you can.
c Note on your drawing how the various areas are or might be
d
used – a place for preparing food, for storing fuel, for sleeping,
for washing... Describe in your drawing the life of the space.
(You could do this by interpreting the plan alongside left,
labelling its different places. You can see a drawing of the
place marked ‘c’ on page 62.)
This is a small slateworkers’ cottage from north Wales, called
Llainfadyn. It was built as a place to live: a refuge protected from Now draw the same dwelling as an object standing on
the weather and providing privacy from other people. Within its the ground in space (as an elevation or three-dimensional
walls and under its roof it has one room organised into places
drawing). Again, do the drawing as accurately as you can,
for various aspects of living. There is a large hearth at a; it is the
source of warmth and the cooking place; it is the heart of the being careful about the proportions of the various parts and
house, literally the flame of its life. There are sleeping places at including any ornamental touches. You could also record the
b – two beds at ground level, separated by a partition, with a bed/
storage platform aloft (dotted in). There is a sitting place by the different colours and textures of the different materials used
hearth at c, with a table and shelves; it is lit by a small window and in the building.
protected from draughts from the doorway by a screen; this is a
place to eat, maybe write a letter or read The Bible. That screen
Ask yourself which of the two drawings best illustrates
also helps define the entrance place d. The space labelled e might the ‘architecture’ of the building. The answer must be ‘both’.
be thought of as multi-purpose; it is where the inhabitants would But whereas the ‘object’ drawing represents only external
move from d to a, c to b, d to c… and so on; it might also be where
clothes are dried, or a visitor is invited to sit in front of the fire. appearance, the plan drawing illustrates the life (occupation
This slateworkers’ cottage is old and traditional, dependent and inhabitation) of the house. Architecture deals in both.
on a fire for warmth. But the principle of a dwelling consisting of
habitable places applies to modern dwellings too. Indeed this old
You can do the same exercise with different buildings,
house shares a characteristic with some modern dwellings in that maybe a small temple or a chapel (opposite).
the places it contains are not divided into enclosed rooms.

We might judge the cottage’s simple form as beautiful. But it was This ‘artful’ cottage is from An Essay on British Cottage
built without aesthetic pretension, straightforwardly, with care and Architecture, Being An Attempt to perpetuate on Principle, that
understanding of inhabitants’ needs and the materials available, peculiar mode of Building, which was originally the effect of
rather than concern for outward show. Chance… by James Malton (1798). The book offered wealthy
The cottage on the right was, by contrast, designed with an landowners designs for cottages as ornaments for their estates
extra level of concern for the artfulness of its outward appearance. and accommodation for their workers. The designs were less
(Look at that chimney!) Because of this some might say it is more concerned with straightforward practicality than with appearances.
a work of ‘architecture’. But others (me included) might respond You might also reflect on that word ‘Chance’ in Malton’s title
that there is architecture (in the sense defined in Analysing and what he thought he meant by it. Does it, for instance, apply to
Architecture) in the spatial organisation and material form of the Welsh slateworkers’ cottage (left)? Was some sort of status
the Welsh cottage above. distinction being asserted?

26
C O M PE T I N G PR I O R I T I E S

Sometimes it might seem as if architecture is primarily con-

cerned with the appearances of buildings, internal as well as
external. Certainly the media seem to portray it in this way
and photographs on the Internet, in magazines and archi-
tectural history books reinforce this way of seeing architec-
ture. But the aesthetics of a building are not confined to its
visual appearance; they involve personal response to spatial
organisation. A person’s experience of space includes emo-
tional responses – to being ‘at the centre’, ‘at the threshold’,
‘excluded’ or ‘included’... – as well as the pragmatic use of
spaces for particular purposes. Later exercises will show
that architecture, in being the medium through which we
give form to space as well as to material, has richer and
more diverse aspects than visible material form: aspects
that influence, or even manage, how we experience space,
how we behave and how we relate to each other in various
situations.
It might be argued that the prevalence of architectural
photography, especially in periodicals and web journals
There is architecture in the organisation of space as well as in the such as ArchDaily and Dezeen has greatly increased the
composition of external form. To external appearance the person
belief that architecture is primarily a matter of visual appear-
is only a spectator. To spatial organisation the person is the prime
ingredient, an actor in the play. ance. This tendency is evident too on social media such as
Instagram.
But this is far from being a recent issue in architecture.
For instance, in the 1870s, John T. Emmett was a vocal critic
of the state of architecture in England, the ills of which he
suggested dated back to the Renaissance and the emer-
gence of the profession of ‘Architect’. He lambasted particu-
lar examples:
‘Blenheim House’ (designed by John Vanbrugh) ‘is criti-
cally known as “picturesque”, but it is a scene rather than
a dwelling…’ ** (my emphasis)
And even 450 years ago, Daniele Barbaro, comment-
ing in his translation (1567) of Vitruvius’ Ten Books on Archi-
tecture (1stC BCE) into Italian, advised:
‘We can draw the plan, the elevation, and sometimes the
profile and sides. However, we will leave out the shadows
and avoid filling the page with figures and simple little
things, not affecting the quantity and the refinement of
the figures obscured by foreshortening and perspective,
for our intention is to illustrate these things, not to teach
painting.’ *** (my emphasis)
So the competing claims of external appearance and
An image is only an image captured in an instant. A plan is a map inhabitation have fought for priority in architecture probably
of experience. It tells of places, their relationships, and routes since the dawn of human history.
amongst them. Its dimensions include both space and time.
Published in 1624, Sir Henry Wotton began his book
Find some images of the building above,* both interior and
exterior. Locate them in the plan. Imagine yourself approaching The Elements of Architecture with the premise:
this building, entering through one of the doorways, seeing ‘In Architecture as in all other Operative Arts, the end
the light entering it, moving towards its various focuses… and must direct the Operation. The end is to build well. Well
eventually exiting to wander around the outside, finding how it building hath three Conditions. Commoditie, Firmenes,
identifies more places… Maybe one day you will visit this building. and Delight.’ ****
We shall come on to ‘firmness’ (the structural stability
* You should recognise the building above. You should also know who
and constructional integrity of buildings) in due course, but
designed it, where it is and when it was built. If you do not know, you will ‘commodity’ refers to the use (inhabitation, framing…) role
find it in any book on the history of twentieth-century architecture. of architecture, while ‘delight’ refers to its appearance to the
** John T. Emmett – ‘The State of English Architecture’ (1872), 1972. eye, its aesthetic value. Whether ‘delight’ holds priority is
something to think about. You might also ponder whether
*** Kim Williams, ed. and trans. – Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567, these ‘conditions’ are distinct, or whether they merge and
2019.
mutually influence each other – e.g. whether ‘commodity’
**** Henry Wotton – The Elements of Architecture (1624), 1969. possesses an aesthetic (‘Delight’) value of its own?

COMPETING PRIORITIES 27
TENSIONS

The tension between concern for the external appearance of architecture and its role in framing life stretches far back into
history, and long before this example from the late 1920s (below). The following quotation describes a house designed by
Eileen Gray and Jean Badovici in 1926, the Modernist Villa E.1027* near Roquebrune-Cap-Martin in the south of France.
Gray and Badovici’s description seems to contain some thinly veiled criticism of Le Corbusier, who had written Vers une
architecture – a manifesto for a Modernist approach to architecture – in 1923. And that criticism concerns the prioritisation
of external appearance over the accommodation of life. In particular Gray and Badovici questioned Le Corbusier’s definition
of architecture as ‘the masterly, correct and magnificent play of masses brought together in light’1 and his belief that the
aesthetic appearance could be ordered by ‘regulating lines’.2 Gray and Badovici argued instead that ‘the interior must meet
the needs of man…’.
This single example illustrates how architects can argue, even within a common ideology and perhaps also inside their
own minds, about the relative importance of the ways in which architecture organises space into places and how buildings
look to the eye (and to the camera).
From Gray and Badovici’s original French: My translation:

‘L’architecture extérieure semble avoir intéressé les ‘Exterior architecture seems to have interested avant-
architectes d’avant garde aux dépens de l’architecture garde architects at the expense of interior architecture. It
intérieure. Comme si une maison devait être conçue is as if a house had to be designed for the pleasure of the
pour le plaisir des yeux plus que pour le bien-être des eyes more than for the well-being of the inhabitants. If
habitants. Si le lyrisme peut se donner carrière dans poetry can be allowed to play a part in the composition of
le jeu des masses équilibrées dans la lumiére du jour,1 masses in daylight,1 the interior must meet the needs of
l’intérieur doit répondre auz besoins de l’homme et aux man and the demands of individual life to allow rest and
exigences de la vie individuelle et permettre le repos et privacy. Theory is not enough for life and does not meet all
l’intimité. La théorie ne suffit pas à la vie et ne répond pas needs. It was necessary to identify a trend whose failures
à tous les besoins. Il fallait de dégager d’une tendance are obvious, and seek to create an interior atmosphere
dont les échecs sont patents, et chercher à créer une in harmony with the refinements of modern domestic life,
atmosphère intérieure en harmonie avec les raffinements while using the resources and possibilities of current
de la vie intime moderne, tout en utilisant les ressources technology. The thing constructed matters more than
et les possibilités de la technique courante. La chose how it is constructed, and the process is subordinate
construite a plus d’importance que la manière dont on la to the plan, not the plan to the process. It is not only a
construit, et le procédé est subordonné au plan, non le question of constructing beautiful lines,2 but above all,
plan au procédé. Il ne s’agit pas de construire seulment dwellings for men. Considering the construction of a
de beaux ensembles de lignes,2 mais avant tout, des table or a chair as a pictorial composition, thinking only
habitations pour hommes. Considérer la construction of the harmony of form, necessarily leads to excesses
d’une table, d’une chaise comme la réalisation d’un and to misinterpretations which mislead the public taste
tableau plastique, en se plaçant au seul point de vue and make those who have not lost the notion of practical
de l’harmonie de la forme aboutit nécessairement à des utility appear backward. Steel tubing, as conceived and
excès et à des contre-sens qui égarent le goût public used by avant-garde architects, is expensive, brittle and
et font apparaître comme des retardataires ceux qui cold. The need to stand out, to be original at all costs,
n’ont pas perdu la notion de l’utilité pratique. Le tube en ends up abolishing the most basic concern for practical
acier tel que le conçoivent et l’utilisent les architectes comfort. All these inventions with modern pretensions
d’avant garde, est cher, fragile et froid. Le besoin de se that we see appear and disappear respond only to
singulariser, d’être original à tout prix, finit par abolir le a passing fad and all true style is absent. There is no
souci le plus élémentaire de confort pratique. Toutes ces particular style. The true creator aims for the universal.’
inventions à prétentions modernes qu’on voit paraître et
disparaître ne répondent qu’à une mode passagère et Le Corbusier’s expressed philosophy of design, and
tout style véritable en est absent. Il n’y a pas de style Eileen Gray and Jean Badovici’s criticism of it, illustrate
du particulier. Le créateur véritable vise à l’universel.’ ** an abiding concern of architects.**** Architects are always
grappling with the relationship between appearances and
the organisation of space into accommodating places. Per-
1
In Vers une architecture, Le Corbusier had written: haps both Gray and Le Corbusier were seeking harmony
‘L’architecture étant le jeu savant, correct et magnifique des volumes
assemblés sous la lumière, l’architecte a pour tâche de faire vivre les between these two ‘conditions of well building’? (See the Le
surfaces qui enveloppent ces volumes…’ *** Corbusier quotation on page 2.)
This was translated by Frederick Etchells (1927) as:
‘Architecture being the masterly, correct and magnificent play of masses
brought together in light, the task of the architect is to vitalize the surfaces * See Twenty-Five Buildings Every Architect Should Understand.
which clothe these masses…’
** From ‘E.1027, Maison en bord de mer’, the winter 1929 edition of
2
and: L’Architecture Vivante, republished 2006.
‘L’obligation de l’ordre. Le tracé regulateur est une assurance contre
l’arbitraire. Il procure la satisfaction de l’esprit.’ *** Le Corbusier – Vers une architecture (1923), trans. Etchells as Towards
Translated as: a New Architecture, 1927.
‘The necessity for order. The regulating line is a guarantee against
wilfulness. It brings satisfaction to the understanding.’ **** See Peter Adam – Eileen Gray: Architect Designer, 1987, 2000.

28
E X ERCISE 3: a x i s (a nd it s den ia l)
E X E RC I SE 3 a – doorway axis

The doorway establishes a place of transition between the

world outside and the refuge inside. Its threshold faces two
ways: inwards and out. Stand your person outside looking
in. The person’s line of sight, passing through the doorway,
establishes an axis that links the person with the hearth at
the centre of the circle:

You may have noticed that what you have been doing so far
in these exercises has been influenced by different sorts of
geometry. We shall review these later. But first we shall add
another: the axis. You might have seen it emerge in your block
models . After the centre and the threshold (doorway), the axis
is a fundamental architectural device. Though it may be seen
in material form – as in the line that runs down the centre
of a human body or the front elevation of a classical temple
(axial symmetry) – the axis, born of alignment of doorway
and eye (axis of penetration and projection), belongs first to
space and our relationship with it.* Axes play their part in
the identification of place.
The doorway – a fulcrum between the two – acts like
the sight of a rifle. The axis also extends beyond the hearth
to hit the wall, identifying a significant position (a) directly
opposite the doorway:

The external form of the human male has an axis down its middle:
with a foot, leg, testicle, breast, shoulder, arm, hand, nostril,
eye, ear... on each side. But its most powerful axis is the one
that strikes out from the eyes – the line of sight. This is an axis
in space and it has the power to establish linkage between our * See also the chapter on ‘Axis’ in Analysing Architecture: the Universal
selves and places in the distance. Language of Place-Making.

E X ERCISE 3: a xis (and its denial) 29

 a

From the point of view of the person outside, the door-

way frames this significant position, as in a picture. Because of
the doorway, the space of the house acquires a more complex
form. The doorway, collaborating with the eye of the person,
has added an invisible line – the axis – to the circle with its
centre. This axis is a line of sight that identifies a second The arrangement of places inside my house (above) is
privileged place (in addition to the centre) at or on the wall related to these two axes, with a bed at either side and the table
opposite the doorway. The doorway and its axis generate a at the significant position directly opposite the doorway. The
hierarchy of places within the house. hearth retains its central position. The two axes, introduced
into the circle of the house by the doorway, provide a spatial
E X E RC I SE 3b – quartering framework for the organisation of the interior into subsidiary
places. The framework of axes lends the organisation of the
The axis is also a line of passage along which the person space an apparent ‘rightness’ – a spatial harmony perhaps
enters (or aspires to enter) the circle of place. The axis born comparable to the harmony of a major chord in music, the
of the doorway and eye introduces a dynamic line, a line of resolved syntax of a simple sentence or the balance of a
movement into the innately static – centred – circle or square. mathematical equation.
In the house (though the hearth is an obstacle) this dynamic
line terminates at the wall directly opposite the doorway. E X E RC I SE 3 c – relating to the remote
The axis plays a third role in the spatial form of the interior
of your house. It divides the space into two halves – left and Remove the furniture from your house. Position your person
right – suggesting a second axis at right angles to the first: at position (a) by the wall looking directly out of the doorway:

30
 E X E RC I SE 3 d – temple

Take that point on board. Remove the hearth; see your per-
son as a king or a goddess and you have transformed your
house from a domestic refuge into a throne room or a temple.
Replace your king or goddess with an altar – a place of me-
diation, communion, intercourse – attended by a priest, and
you have transformed your house into a chapel for prayer,
for intercession. Now your position, whether inside or out,
may be defined by its relation to the axis. The simple device
of a walled enclosure with a doorway oriented in a particular
direction has established a link between the person (mon-
arch, goddess…) and the remote. It has established a centre
and axis in relation to which the person knows where they
are. It has created a two-way spatial hierarchy leading from
outside, over the threshold, to inside, to a centre and to the
altar positioned opposite the doorway… and back again. This
is the spatial syntax used in the buildings of many religions.

Now the doorway axis works in the opposite direction.

It strikes outwards, even beyond the edge of your board (your
world), beyond the horizon. The rectangle of the doorway
frames a ‘picture’ of the world outside with the axis striking
out into the distance. This axis, generated by your eye in
conjunction with the doorway, can establish a link between
the interior of your house – your person, the hearth... – and
something in the distance; an object, a mountain or perhaps
the sun rising or setting at the horizon.

The axis has been used in these ways by cultures around

the world through all history and before. Henges, Egyptian
and Greek temples, Christian churches, Islamic mosques,
Hindu and Buddhist temples… all have used the doorway
axis to establish linkage between the place of worship and
something distant and sacred: the sun, a sacred mountain,
Mecca, the mythical birthplace of a god… Even in secular
architecture the projected axis has been used to suggest
dominion over the land, as can be seen in royal palaces and
horizon
the grand houses of aristocrats.

E X ERCISE 3: a xis (and its denial) 31

A T I M E L E S S SY N TA X – ‘ The Artist is Present’

From March to May 2010, the artist Marina Abramovic staged a performance in
the Atrium of New York’s Museum of Modern Art (MOMA). Entitled ‘The Artist is
Present’,* it provides a good illustration of the architectural powers explored so far
in this set of exercises: circle of place; centre/focus; threshold/doorway; axis of
penetration and projection. It also illustrates the essential parts played by people
in place-making.

Abramovic’s equivalent of your board was the floor of the Atrium (1). On
this she had inscribed a large square defined by a white line (2). This square
identified a place in the same way as your circle (3). At the centre, Abramovic had
positioned a table – like an altar – a place of mediation, communion, intercourse
(4). Two chairs were placed either side of the table; she sat on one of them; oppo- 3
site her was the other chair and a gap in the boundary line, opening a ‘doorway’
on axis with the ‘altar’ – a threshold – into her domain (5). Visitors were invited
to come and sit opposite her, one at a time. Others waited at the threshold (6).
Each could sit with her as long as they wanted or could survive her inscrutable
(implacable) gaze.
Whatever else this work means, its setting invoked the architectural powers
of the boundary, centre and threshold. The square framed (identified the place
of) the performance, creating a ‘sacred’ area around the ‘altar’ (table). Spectators
and waiting visitors were kept outside (excluded) by the white line. The table,
across which each visitor in turn communed silently with the artist, occupied the 4
centre. The threshold identified the point of entrance, eliciting a frisson for visitors
as each stepped across it and approached the table to take the seat opposite
Abramovic. The setting itself was framed by bright lights. Abramovic sat impas-
sively at her table during the daily opening hours of MOMA for three months.
Many hundreds of visitors came to subject themselves to, or challenge, her gaze.
Some wept.
Architecture can be thought of as spatial language. As such, ‘The Artist is
Present’ constitutes a classic ‘syntactic’ arrangement, comprising: a sacred area
with a defined boundary and threshold (doorway); a focal altar (in this case posi-
tioned on the centre point of the sacred area); and the juxtaposition of a dominant
occupant with a visitor (interviewer—interviewee; boss—junior; doctor—patient; 5
monarch—supplicant; goddess—worshipper…).
This piece was powerful in MOMA’s Atrium. Imagine it out in an open land-
scape, an arid featureless desert… This syntax, or variations on it, may apply to a
fireplace in a forest clearing, an altar in a church, a church at the centre of its com-
munity, a temple (whatever denomination) in its sacred precinct, a house (humble
or grand) in its plot of ground, a desk in a president’s office or doctor’s surgery,
a sculpture in a gallery, a throne in an audience chamber, a bed in a boudoir…

* You will find some photographs of ‘The Artist is Present’ at:

moma.org/visit/calendar/exhibitions/964 (August 2021). 6

32
A X I S I N U S E – Woodland Chapel

The Woodland Chapel stands in the grounds of the Wood-

land Crematorium on the outskirts of Stockholm in Sweden.
Intended for the funerals of children, it was designed by Erik
Gunnar Asplund and built around 1918.
Though the building uses more elements than have
yet been introduced in these exercises – column, rectangu-
lar (rather than circular) walled enclosure, porch and steps
(around the circular heart of the plan) – you can see from
the plan that the design is an exercise in centre, circle of
place and axis of penetration and projection generated by
a doorway.
The person too – dead as well as alive – is an essential
ingredient in the architecture of the building. It is accommo-
dated in three primary roles: as corpse (in a coffin on the
rectangular catafalque), mourner (either sitting around in a
circle or standing paying last respects at the centre), and
priest or officiating officer (speaking at the lectern/altar).
The interior is a formalised forest clearing defined by a
lectern/altar
circle of columns (like an ancient standing stone circle). An
axis, (poetically) aligned with the setting sun in the west, is
generated by the doorway and links together the catafalque
and the lectern/altar (in its own hearth-like niche in the wall catafalque
opposite the doorway). Also on this axis is the centre of the
circle marking the vertical axis rising to heaven (through a centre
roof-light in the domed ceiling; see page 89) – an axis mundi
– and the generic position of the mourner saying farewell.
The catafalque is suspended in-between the altar and that axis mundi
upward leading axis mundi (axis of the world). (vertical)
The appearance of the chapel is a blend of ‘pyramid’
(with its allusion to ancient Egyptian tombs), ‘temple’ (in the doorway
symmetrical columned portico) and ‘cottage in the woods’ (a
hint of home and refuge). The Woodland Chapel also illus-
trates the poetic potential of some of the simple devices by The axis also establishes
a pathway.
which we can give form to space through architecture. The
syntax of its spatial organisation is timeless.

This axis faces the setting

rather than the rising sun.

You can make an approximation of the underlying spatial form of

the interior of the Woodland Chapel using your blocks and board
(above). You can inhabit it too, with corpse, mourner and priest,
each in the appropriate place. The spatial form is like the board
for a serious formal ‘game’ (the funeral ceremony) with people as
players/pieces.

A XIS IN USE – Woodland Chapel 33

I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : ex plor i ng a x i s
In your notebook... collect examples of the axis of penetration
and projection. Study, through redrawing plans, how other
architects (from ancient times to the recent present) have
employed the axis in the spatial layout of their buildings. Look
in particular at the different compositions of centre, circle,
enclosure, doorway and axis. Analyse how these compositions
provide different positions for the person to occupy (e.g.
inside, outside, at the centre, on the threshold, on the axis,
at the focus...) and how these different positions relate to or
affect the role(s) played by the person and the emotions that
person might feel.
Invent your own compositions too. Through drawing,
play with different compositions of centre, circle, enclosure,
doorway and axis. Establish hierarchies. Experiment with
different arrangements. Reflect on the possible relationships
of the person with these arrangements. Think of yourself as
something like a film director manipulating the identity and
emotions of actors. But instead of using the script and verbal Stonehenge, Salisbury, c. 3000 BCE
instructions you are using spatial prompts engineered by your
architectural compositions.
The circle, centre, enclosure, doorway and axis have
a
played an important part in the spatial forms of religious
buildings of all faiths. The drawings on this and the following
page show the plans of six buildings from different periods of
history and of different ideologies: Stonehenge was apparently
a temple for pagan rites; the Pantheon originally framed a
pantheistic religion but later became a Christian building; the
Dome of the Rock is Islamic but also sacred to Christians and
Jews; St Peter’s is Roman Catholic Christian;the Villa Rotonda
was built in a Christian context but can be interpreted as a
temple to the human being; and Fitzwilliam College Chapel
is a small chapel belonging to a university college. The axis
of each building provides a (uniting) reference point (datum)
for a particular constituency or community of people: stone
age tribes; Romans; Muslims; Roman Catholics; humanity;
the students of a particular Cambridge college. Stonehenge consists of a series of concentric circles: six of stones
All these communities (and more) have found use for of various sizes surrounded by a seventh which is an earthwork
and ditch. The smallest ‘circle’ is opened into a horseshoe shape
the architectural devices of circle of place, centre, enclosure, in response to the main axis which relates to the point of sunrise
doorway and axis in giving form to space for occupation and on the summer solstice – marked by the hele stone (a) and
ritual. But each building uses these devices in a different way, avenue of approach – and sunset on the winter solstice. Though
the circles are permeable (consisting not of walls but of spaced
with different effects. stones), doorways (and hence thresholds) through each are
Using diagrams (like mine for Stonehenge, right) ana- implied on the axis of approach. Near but not quite at the centre
of these circles is a stone which is apparently an altar. Its off-
lyse each of them. Think, in particular, about what has been centre position allows the actual geometric centre to be occupied
positioned at the centre of each and why. Think too about how by a person, perhaps the priest or holy man officiating at some
they are entered. And consider how the other devices (circle, ceremony or rite.*

enclosure, doorway, axis) contribute to the overall form given

* See also the analysis in The Ten Most Influential Buildings in History:
to space in each instance. Architecture’s Archetypes, pp. 60–63.

34
Pantheon, Rome, c. 126 CE Dome of the Rock, Jerusalem, c. 690 CE

St Peter’s, Rome, 1506–1626

Villa Rotonda, Vicenza, Andrea Palladio, 1591

Google photographs of these buildings, especially their interiors.

Through redrawing their plans in your notebook, identify the role
of the axis of penetration and projection in each. Is there one axis
or two? Maybe, in three dimensions, there are three? Look at
the relationship between the axes and the building’s entrance(s).
Label what you consider to be the focus of the interior. Is this
at the centre? If not, what do you think the architect intended to
occupy the centre? Imagine yourself in the space and think about
how your movement might relate to and be influenced by those
axes. Remember too the point that I made with regard to Degas’
vitrine for A Little Dancer (page 7), i.e. that architecture provides
a frame that contributes to our appreciation of its content. Think
about how axes contribute to this in these examples. Note down
your thoughts in your notebook.

And don’t forget to experiment, using your blocks and simply

drawn plans in your notebook, with various compositions of
doorway, axis, focus, centre… (This the equivalent of playing
with different sentence constructions in language.)

Fitzwilliam College Chapel, Cambridge, Richard MacCormac, 1991 (Plans are at varying scales.)

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: explor ing a xis 35

A XIS IN URBAN DESIGN

Axes of penetration and projection play their role in urban design as well as in
individual buildings. They may help in establishing distant visual linkage between
parts of a city, and establish direct routes for movement. They are also associated
with the projection of power. In Rome, above, the axis of St Peter’s Basilica, with
its embracing Piazza (see page 22), focusses on its central altar, but it also pro-
jects the power of the Church out into the world.
The spider’s web of axes about the Palace of Versailles (Paris, below)
focusses on the centre of power of the French kings and also projects their royal
dominion out into the world. The axis of St Peter’s in Rome projects the
In your notebook look for examples of circle of presence, centre, and axis power of the Roman Catholic Church out
of penetration and projection in the plans of cities as well as individual buildings. across the world.

36
E X E RC I SE 3 e – lines of doorways (enfilade)

The axis generated by a doorway, in conjunction with the person’s line of sight, is
reinforced by making a sequence of doorways on a shared axis.
Make a line of three doorways sharing the same axis (right). At one end, on
the axis – as a focus – place a throne, with a person sitting on it. At the other end,
position another person looking down the axis towards the person on the throne.
We have seen previously in this exercise that a doorway generates an axis
that can relate a significant object or person to another (1). To the person standing
before the doorway, the object or person on the other side exists in ‘another world’,
made to seem special by its separation, and is thereby lent additional importance
and mystery. This otherworldliness may be enhanced, reinforced, if the significant
object or person is situated beyond not just one doorway but a sequence (2).
The sequence of doorways creates a hierarchy of status between the signif-
icant object or person at the focus of the doorway axis (maybe a monarch or the
representation of a god) and the supplicant standing outside this privileged inner
world. It also creates a hierarchy of intermediate grades of status that increase in
privilege as the significant focus is approached.
The enfilade establishes a pathway. The doorways create a sequence of (psy-
chological or real) barriers through which persons of a particular status might
pass. Perhaps the doorways would allow only the monarch’s closest confidantes
to enter the world of the throne, or the god’s highest priests to enter the world of
the divine presence.
An enfilade of doorways is an architectural device that might be used in
circumstances other than the royal or religious. It may be found in the layouts of
grand houses and art galleries as well as in palaces and temples. The focus of a line
of doorways might be a beautiful view or a fine work of art, rather than a monarch
or a god. (See the following pages.)

1 2

A doorway has the ability to make We might pay homage to that special A sequence of aligned doorways, enfilade,
something – a person, an object, a something by placing ourselves (perhaps reinforces the power of the doorway axis.
view… – seem special by framing it. It also bowing in supplication) on the same axis, It makes the focus of the axis – here a
establishes an axial relationship between maybe preserving respectful separation by monarch on a throne – seem more remote
that special something and the outside. staying outside the doorway. from the real world.

E X ERCISE 3: a xis (and its denial) 37

E N FI L A D E – lines of doorways

A sequences of aligned doorways can

imply progression in stages towards a
remote goal or state of being, or maybe
symbolise regression into progressively
deeper recesses of the psyche. They a
elicit feelings of reverence and aspi-
ration. Lines of doorways are found
in buildings – temples and palaces –
through history and across cultures.
The prospect of a line of doorways can
be inviting, challenging, forbidding... It
can imply a sequence of spaces you
might be invited to explore, challenged
to attain or forbidden from entering.
They can seduce and deter.
The symbolic power of a line of In this temple of Osiris the ‘human’
doorways is illustrated in a small tem- approach to the inner sanctum is through
ple that is part of the complex of ancient an enfilade of doorways (left) culminating
Egyptian buildings at Karnak (1). In the in a sharp left hand turn. But there is
temple of Osiris Hek-Djet there is a line another ‘access’ for the spirit of a god/
of actual doorways through which a Pharaoh who can pass through solid
person, maybe only a privileged priest, matter: the image of a line of doorways
carved into the stone wall at ‘a’ (above).
might physically pass. These lead to a
chamber with access, at right angles,
1 Temple of Osiris, Karnak, c. 900 BCE
to an inner chamber, the culmination of
the route. Alongside (at ‘a’) and paral-
lel is another sequence of doorways,
an image (shown alongside) carved in
the surface of the solid stone wall and
appearing to lead into the same inner
chamber. This is a line of doorways of
illusory extent (because of the artificial
perspective), through which only the
souls of the dead may pass.
Enfilades can be found in even
older buildings. The power of aligned
doorways must have been discovered
in prehistoric times. They are evident,
for example, in some Neolithic burial
chambers, such as Cairn O’Get in the
north of Scotland (2).
Enfilades are associated with
ideas of progressive stages towards 2 Cairn O’Get, c. 3000 BCE
attaining a transcendent state, as in
the (much grander) ancient temples Enfilades of doorways stretch back even 3 Tarxien, c. 3000 BCE
on the island of Malta, like Tarxien further into time than ancient Egypt. Both
(3). There, lines of doorways culmi- Cairn O’Get (a small earth-mounded
tomb in northern Scotland) and Tarxien
nate in an altar framed within its own
(a temple on the Mediterranean island
niche or doorway. Some of the altars of Malta) date from around 3000 BCE
themselves are in the form of miniature (two thousand years earlier than the
doorways (4), suggesting that the door- temple of Osiris above) and are nearly
way itself was deemed spiritually sig- 3000 miles apart. Both create routes with
nificant. And some of the doorways in lines of doorways. In Cairn O’Get the
this temple have very high thresholds, route culminates in the burial chamber.
indicating that passing through them In Tarxien it culminates at an altar which
itself consists of a sequence of doorways
was seen as something of a test or rite
in model form constructed in stone (right).
of passage. The threshold (as in that of It is clear that lines of doorways were
a circle of presence) was experienced not considered merely a practical way
as a transition from one state of being of framing a route, but held symbolic
to another. significance too. 4 A doorway altar at Tarxien

38
1 Hindu shrine 2 Christian church

E N FI L A D E – lines of doorways (continued)

A similar progression of doorways and thresholds underpins the organisation of a

Hindu shrine (1) and the processional route from west door to altar in a Christian
church (2).
Lines of doorways may be associated with emergence as well as penetra-
tion. The long line of seven doorways in the Temple of Rameses II (3) might be
interpreted as indicating progressive stages of approach towards the culmination
of an eighth, false, doorway. But they might also be interpreted as a sequence
passed through by the spirit of the resurrected Pharaoh as it emerges from the
false doorway to re-enter the world of the living.
Sometimes when the Prince of Wales gives televised speeches at St
James’s Palace in London he stands on a podium at a doorway (4). Behind is a
sequence of aligned doorways axially focused on a throne. It is as if the Prince
has emerged like a Pharaoh from his cloistered, doubly-detached, royal world to
speak to his subjects.

The Throne

The Prince

The Thorvaldsen Museum in Copenhagen

(1838–48) was designed by Michael
Gottlieb Bindesbøll. Its side galleries are
3 Temple of Rameses II, Abu Simbel linked by enfilades of doorways, reinforced
by the perspective of the pattern of floor
tiles and the different coloured and toned
walls and lighting levels in the sequential
For the powers and phenomenology of the rooms. One sculpture terminates the vista
doorway see Doorway. 4 Prince Charles giving a speech like a full stop finishes a sentence.

ENFILADE – lines of door ways 39

6 Petworth House, 17thC

E N FI L A D E – lines of doorways (continued)

Sequences of doorways do not necessarily imply hierar-

chical progression. They may relate to transitions from one
room or ‘world’ to another in sequence.
In Petworth House in England (6) there is a long line
of rooms with doorways enfilade. They are aligned along
one edge of the rooms, adjacent to the windows, leaving the
major part of each room to be used for inhabitation (as a
circle of place). The doorways take you through a series of
rooms, each with different character and content.
The composer Frédéric Chopin stayed for a while in an
apartment in a monastery at Valldemossa on the island of
Mallorca (7). Here the sequence of doorways takes you from
a bare and severe monastic corridor, through a small lobby,
into the main living apartment, and then through a loggia
into a beautiful and sunny formal garden with an elevated
panoramic view across the dramatic scenery of northern
Mallorca. The effect is poetic and engaging. It is as if the
apartment itself is a piece of music with a quiet start and
joyous major-chord climax.

This (above) is the underlying layout of the main block of A Palace

for an Exhibition of Fine Arts designed as a competition entry
by Émile Bénard in 1867.* It is typical of the so-called Beaux-
Arts way of designing which dominated European and American
7 Chopin’s apartment (sketch section above, plan below) architecture during the second half of the nineteenth century
and early twentieth. Graphically, as a drawing, you can see that
the plan is symmetrical about two principal axes at right angles.
You can also see that the circulation is through lines of doorways
enfilade. Although we see the plan as a layout of walls – i.e. solid
– it could be argued that its principal instrument of organisation is
actually the doorway axis – an absence of solid. If the design had
been built it would have been the doorways that controlled our
movement through the rooms. Notice that in some places the lines
of doorways allow a view and direct route all the way from one end
or side of the building to the other. In other instances, the lines of
sight are blocked by a wall or, in some cases, a column.

* From Arthur Drexler, ed. – The Architecture of the Ecole des Beaux-Arts,
1977, p. 240.

40
E X E RC I SE 3 f – denying the axis

The doorway axis of penetration and

projection is architecturally powerful
and therefore often associated with
other kinds of power. A doorway axis
focuses attention on and establishes a
route for or towards a particular per-
sonage or object, the apparent status of
which is thereby reinforced.
A doorway also creates a thresh-
old, an intangible fault-line which can
be perceived as a psychological barrier
to those wishing to pass through and
which elicits an emotional frisson in
those that do. The sense of separation
evoked by the threshold enhances the
status of the focus of the axis. 1 A doorway generates an axis. But you
But sometimes you the architect might want to deny that axis for some
might want to control, reduce or deny reason: maybe to delay encountering it; or
to avoid an inappropriate confrontation.
the power of a doorway axis. As in all
creative disciplines, things become
more intriguing when a strong, seem-
ingly dominant, theme or idea is chal-
lenged, subverted, thwarted.
The relationship between door-
way, axis and object of attention (god,
monarch, altar, artwork...) is a domi-
nant theme in much architecture (1).
As we have seen, its power has been
recognised in architecture from its
prehistoric origins. That power derives
from our innate perception of the
world – in so much as we see forward
in straight lines, move forward, and
have a sense of threshold – which the
2 You might do this with a wall that someone
simple form of a doorway stimulates entering the special interior would have to
and channels, especially when there is walk around (above) or with a column that
prevents direct confrontation (below).
a focus – a terminus to the axis of sight
and movement, a ‘magnet’ that draws
us towards it.
The first and most obvious way
to break that relationship is, of course,
to block it: either with a wall (2) which
might be inside (as shown) or outside; or
by inserting a column on the centre line
of the doorway (3). In this arrangement
the visitor (the person, you approaching
the doorway) can no longer see, or only
partially see, the object of attention 3

E X ERCISE 3: a xis (and its denial) 41

through the doorway, and has to take
a route when entering which deviates
from the axis. In such instances it is
your anticipation or curiosity about
what is on the other side of the blocking
wall that draws you through.
Though blocking is a method of
organising space to deny a doorway
axis – and thereby play with the expe-
rience of passing through – it is not the
only one.
You might avoid placing the object
of attention (focus) on the dominant
4
axis, putting it either to one side (4) or
maybe in a corner (5). You might even
place it in a corner beside the doorway
(6). Each of these arrangements devi-
ating from adherence to the dominant
doorway axis results in a different rela-
tionship between the person (the visitor
to the space, whom you must imagine
as yourself in these drawings) and the
object of attention. Some reduce the
sense of confrontation. Some introduce
the idea of discovery.
Notice how, in response to the
5
asymmetrical arrangements of 5 and
6, the design of the ‘throne’ has been
altered to make it asymmetrical too.
In 7 the throne remains symmetrical,
setting up its own axis (and that of its
occupant) in counterpoint to that of the
doorway. 7 is therefore subtly different
from 5.
In these examples I have used a
‘throne’ as focus. But it could be any of
the other things listed above: a signif-
icant work of art; an altar or effigy of a
6
god; a tree; a bed; a bath; a view…
The permutations in this basic
spatial syntax are many, and each pos-
sesses its own subtleties in regard to
the relationships between the person
(visitor), the doorway and its axis, the
room, and the focus. With your blocks,
on your board marked with an axis,
play with as many permutations as you
can, recording each as a plan drawing
in your notebook and noting down the
subtle differences between them. 7

42
 D E N Y I N G T H E A X I S – a few historical examples

There is history to the architectural use of the doorway axis.

Through at least five or six millennia, from prehistoric times
until the early twentieth century, the power of the doorway
axis was ubiquitous in architecture, especially that associ-
ated with authority both religious and secular. Most cultures
around the world exploited its power. Some were happy to
associate it with divine power but were reticent about using
it to reinforce human power. But then, in the twentieth cen-
The megaron was the heart of an ancient Hellenic palace. The tury, especially in the Modernist ideology that grew out of
hearth was central and on the axis established by the doorway but Europe and America, there developed a more general aver-
the king’s throne was usually positioned to one side. Maybe this sion to the power of the doorway axis, even to the doorway
was so that he would not be blinded by the glaring light from the itself. Maybe this was to do with the doorway axis’s associa-
doorway when open (putting him at a disadvantage to an entering
tion with the sort of authoritarian power that had caused so
visitor) but perhaps it was out of a wish to avoid architecturally
reinforced hubris too. In the arrangement above, a supplicant can much suffering through war and negligence of those without
stand opposite the throne on the other side of the hearth, with wealth and privilege. Architecture has political dimensions
both the visitor and the king lit equally from the doorway. (Notice that can be deep seated. One such dimension is manifest in
too the stages of transition from outside to in; see pages 51–2). something as apparently simple as a doorway.

Almost at the centre of the Topkapi Palace in Istanbul is a

chamber where the Sultan would hold audiences. Care has been
taken to avoid axial alignment of doorways. Again, the hearth is
on the centreline of the chamber but the Sultan himself reclined
on a bed in the corner so there would be no confrontation with an
entering supplicant. Islamic culture is more reticent about allowing
even prominent people to occupy an architectural axis. Traditional
Japanese architecture too, tends to avoid exploiting the power of
the doorway axis (see page 46).

The denial of the dominant doorway axis can be political or

ideological. In his design for the German Pavilion at the 1929
International Exposition in Barcelona (known as the Barcelona
Pavilion), Mies van der Rohe made a point of blocking an axis
already present on the site (the Gran Plaza de la Fuente Mágica)
as indicated in the plan above. He also avoided providing the
altar pavilion with doorways, let alone doorway axes. In this way, the
pavilion’s design can be read as a political manifesto against
authority vested in monarchy (a Kaiser) in favour of a more
exploratory/democratic ideology.* In one way or another this
antipathy to the doorway and the power of its axis changed
architecture, particularly in Europe through the twentieth century.
(As a student in the late 1960s and early 1970s I remember being
advised/instructed by my professor to avoid invoking the power of
the doorway axis and shun axial plan arrangements.)

The everyday entrance of a British Christian parish church is See Analysing Architecture: the Universal Language of Place-Making,
p. 197.
usually at right angles to the axis of the altar. With the altar in the
east, the entrance is often in the church’s south side. In this case * For discussion of the Barcelona Pavilion, see Twenty-Five Buildings
(St Bega’s, Bassenthwaite) it is in the north. Every Architect Should Understand, pp. 24–42.

DENYING THE A XIS – a few historical examples 43

 E X E RC I SE 3 g – senseless doorway axis arrangements

mat the sat cat the on

The sense of a sentence is dependent not only on the words but their order and
relationships. It is the same in architecture. Illustrated on this page are four of an
infinite range of ‘senseless’ compositions of doorway, axis and focus.
Playing with the spatial relationships between elements is similar to a gram-
matical exercise in language. As in language there is not just one structure for a
sentence, though alterations are likely to produce variations in meaning:

the cat sat on the mat

the mat the cat sat on
sat the cat on the mat?
the mat sat on the cat!
sat the mat on the cat?!
1

Some arrangements are simple and direct. Some are complex and subtle
(maybe with poetic possibilities); some are silly. In architecture as in language,
all should make sense. Some arrangements may be ‘wrong’ because they do not
make sense. Sense in architecture is, as in language, something you must learn to
recognise and judge. As your fluency in the universal language of place-making
grows, so too will the sophistication of the spatial poetry you can achieve.
Making something senseless can help you understand and recognise sense.
In the case of this exercise, the aim is to develop your understanding of sense in
spatial arrangement. As children we developed this understanding intuitively: e.g.
when we recognised the significance of sitting at the head of the table, or stopped
at or stepped tentatively over a strange threshold. To become an architect you must
develop this understanding consciously – explore the possibilities of sense and
nonsense in spatial arrangements and how they might be nuanced – so that you
can use them in various and subtle ways.
Look again at the spatial syntax of Asplund’s Woodland Chapel (page 33).
2
Using your simplified block model, experiment with how you might disrupt its
simple but poetic spatial syntax… maybe even to enhance its poetic power.

Just as in word language, it is possible

in the language of spatial organisation
(architecture) to compose nonsense
arrangements. Some of an infinite range
of possibilities are illustrated here.
It would not make sense, for example,
to: 1. situate the object of attention – focus
– blocking the doorway; 2. situate the
object of attention facing the wall; 3. push
it into a corner; or 4. place the doorway so
it is no longer an entrance.
Try composing these elements in
other arrangements that do not make
sense. But be aware also of the (positive,
poetic…) possibilities of unconventional
arrangements. Just as unconventional
patterns of words might create effects
in word poetry, so an unconventional
syntactic arrangement of doorway, axis,
focus… might create a particular poetic
3 4 effect in architecture.

44
I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : deny i ng or avoid i ng a n a x i s
In your notebook... collect examples where an architect
has contradicted (countered, distorted, denied, deflected,
avoided...) an axis in space generated by a doorway. Look for
examples in the buildings you experience but also analyse
plans published in architectural journals and books. Contra-
dicting an axis is not the same as ignoring one or making a
‘senseless’ composition. You are looking for conscious intent
on the part of the architect either to: set up an axis and then
deviate from it; deflect an axis that is already there; or resolve
two axes that are not aligned or congruent. This may involve
wanting to deny the implicit power of the axis or allowing
another force or influence to deflect or distort it.
You should also think carefully about why the architect
might have deviated from a simple and direct relationship
between doorway, axis, focus… Might it have been to avoid
an arrangement that could provoke confrontation, to protect
privacy, or perhaps to disrupt alignment with something
external and remote (a distant sacred place maybe)? Archaeologists believe that the houses at Skara Brae on
Orkney were built some 5000 years ago. Even so, their internal
Here are some examples. I have taken them from a wide arrangement is sophisticated, especially in the larger houses
historical and geographical spread to show how the doorway (above). Typically, there is an axis generated by the doorway,
axis and its denial have always been part of the universal which is shared by the central hearth and a stone dresser (like
an altar) on the wall opposite the doorway. This axis was the
language of architecture. Think about each of these exam- organising principle of the fittings and furniture, with beds, also
ples, maybe redrawing them in your notebook. You should constructed of slabs of stone, to either side. Movement within the
house, however, did not follow this axis but seems by the evidence
find some more for yourself. Find examples from your own of floor stones around the entrance to have circulated anti-
surroundings but look for examples from other cultures and clockwise around the hearth.*
periods of history too.

hall

In ancient Egypt some mortuary temples were built with doorways When the Arts and Crafts architect M.H. Baillie Scott designed
deviating from the axis of the altar. This may have been to avoid Blackwell (1897–1900), a house in the English Lake District, he
the altar being visible from outside (to break a line of sight) or could have arranged the entrance so that the doorways shared
to prevent spirits escaping back into the world of the living (by a single axis between the courtyard and the main room (hall).
disturbing their line of passage). This example is the temple at Instead he shifted subsequent doorways off the axis of the front
the base of the pyramid at Meidum, thought to be one of the oldest doorway, making the visitor’s experience of the entrance less
pyramids in Egypt. Some mortuary temples also had an image formal, less grand, more like the entrance of an English medieval
of a doorway at the base of the pyramid for use by the spirit of house. It also meant that callers at the front door would not be
the Pharaoh. It was this higher status, but false, ‘doorway’ that able to see directly into the main living room. (Note, however,
generated the axis of the altar and of the temple complex, as well that there is an axis running along the corridor, culminating in
as aligning with the axis of the pyramid. the window seat at a.)

* See also Skara Brae (ebook) available on Apple Books.

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: denying or avoiding an a xis 45

 Many churches are entered from one side, usually the south
(see page 43), of the main axis of the altar. In Sigurd Lewerentz’s
Chapel of the Resurrection in Stockholm (1925) it is from the
north, the direction associated with shadow. Exit is through
another doorway on the altar/catafalque axis towards the setting
sun (the direction associated with death). (Notice that the axis
of approach from the north deviates slightly from being at a right
angle to the axis of the altar and catafalque. It is uncertain why.)

In Isfahan, Iran, the axis of the main square (Naqsh-e Jahan,

which translates as ‘Image of the World’) deflects to find that of
the great Imam Mosque, the qibla of which indicates the direction
of Mecca. Here, the doorway axis – of the mihrab (focus of the
mosque) and iwan (entrance archway) – is cranked from that of
the square to establish that link with Mecca .

gardens

There is a subtle interplay of axes in Erik Bryggman’s Cemetery

Chapel at Turku in Finland (1941). The axis of doorway and altar
deflects from the right angle. The pews defer to the altar and that
axis, and are set to one side, allowing a view to gardens outside.

Traditionally, Japanese architecture avoids reinforcing the power The tear drop or boat shaped plan of Peter Zumthor’s chapel at
of a doorway axis. Here an irregular pathway of steppingstones Song Benedikt in Switzerland (1989) relates to the axis of the altar
plays around a doorway axis like a dance. (Arisawa Villa, Matsue.) and pews. The doorway avoids that axis.

46
E X ERCISE 4: door way plac e s

Not only does a doorway generate an axis it also identifies a place of its own. A All doorways/thresholds are dynamic
doorway is a place of transition, a dynamic place through which we pass from one places of transition, usually between an
outside and an inside. As such they are
situation into another. But it can also be a static place: a place to stand and wait; a significant. They punctuate our experience,
place of welcome and farewell; a place for reflection; a place for negotiation; even and elicit a frisson – sometimes hardly
perceptible sometimes dramatic. But they
a place for performance. can also be static places in their own right.
Since ancient times we have sought to
define and expand the places doorways
E X E RC I SE 4 a – doorway place
create. One of the earliest ways was with
a pair of horns or arms embracing an
Adding to your circular house block model, develop a doorway place (above right). area that might be used for ceremonial
performances. A place adjacent to a
You should explore your own variations, but start by creating a partial circular form simple doorway is small (above middle)
on the outside. This is not going to be roofed but helps to enlarge the doorway place but it can be enlarged and given clearer
definition by modification (above right).
by means of ‘arms’ of walls ‘embracing’ a larger area of ground. The ‘arms’ suggest
an area with partially defined edges. Think how this changes your perception of the
entrance and makes it more of a place. If this was your house or temple, consider
what you might use this place for.
Such forecourts are evident in ancient buildings. We have seen some examples
already. Both the Cairn O’Get in Scotland and the Tarxien temple on Malta (page
38) have concave curved walls flanking their entrance, suggesting the identification
of a ceremonial place in front of the tomb or temple. The Tarxien temple also has
a bench seat along those walls, probably for priests or elders to sit watching the
rituals. Another example from more recent times is the Chapel of Notre-Dame du
Look too at the way doorway places have
Haut by Le Corbusier (page 27; now you know!). He suggested an external place for
been created in the examples illustrated on
services, complete with its own altar, by making the east wall of the chapel concave. the page opposite. The Imam Mosque in
A grand example is Gian Lorenzo Bernini’s Piazza S. Pietro (pages 22 and 36) in Isfahan has a huge arched doorway – an
iwan – that creates a transition between
Rome, which creates a place in front of the great basilica where people gather to the mosque’s courtyard and the interior.
hear the Pope speak from his apartment window. Lewerentz’s Chapel of the Resurrection
has an elaborate classical portico defining
Think about the relationship between doorway places like these and the inte- a place at its entrance where mourners
riors of the buildings to which they relate. Think about the juxtaposition of interior might comfort each other before a funeral
and exterior and the different characteristics and possibilities of each. Think about service. Bryggman’s Turku cemetery
chapel has something similar but simpler.
the power of the doorway as a place of transition from outside to inside. Think also And Zumthor’s Song Benedikt chapel has
about the power of the doorway as a place of emergence, from inside to outside, a protruding entrance, approached from
outside by a few steps, which creates a
and how that ‘birth’ might play into the sorts of ceremonies and rituals that could transition from the mountainous exterior
be performed in a doorway place. into the enclosed refuge of the interior.

E XERCISE 4: door way places 47

Sentinel columns, maybe supporting a A broader columned porch or portico. (Cf. A porch with side walls and columns ‘in
porch roof. the plan of the Pantheon on page 35.) antis’. (Cf. the megaron plan on page 43.)

A side entry porch with wall blocking the An interior columned lobby extending the An extended entrance transition. (Cf. the
axis and screening views in and out. transition between outside and in. Llainfadyn draught screen on page 26.)

With your blocks, and your original round

house, explore different ways to identify
doorway places. You may use columns
and/or walls. Think carefully about the
effects of your alternative arrangements:
how they define, restrict, protect, open up
the doorway place. And, in particular, how
they affect the experience of the person
approaching the doorway, going in and
going out. What practical benefits and
emotional effects might each arrangement
have?
Doorway places may be made
inside as well as outside. Explore some
alternatives for this too. And, again, think
carefully about the ways they work and
affect the emotional response of the
person, inside as well as outside.
Browse through the examples in this
An internal lobby; blocking the doorway An internal lobby; blocking the doorway book to find some of these different types
axis; allowing entrance either side. axis; allowing entrance to one side only. of doorway place.

48
I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : door way plac e s
The twentieth-century Dutch architect Aldo van Eyck wrote
of the power and importance of doorway places:
‘Take an example: the world of the house with me inside
and you outside, or vice versa. There’s also the world of
the street – the city – with you inside and me outside or
vice versa. Get what I mean? Two worlds clashing, no
transition. The individual on one side, the collective on the
other. It’s terrifying. Between the two, society in general
throws up lots of barriers, whilst architects in particular
are so poor in spirit that they provide doors 2in thick and
6ft high; flat surfaces in a flat surface – of glass as often
In their 1926 design for a summerhouse called the Villa Flora,
as not. Just think of it: 2in – or ¼in if it is glass – between Aino and Alvar Aalto made a doorway place stretching, as a
such fantastic phenomena – hair-raising, brutal – like a verandah, along the length of the building – an ideal place for
reflecting on Nature, or socialising with family. (See too, on
guillotine. Every time we pass through a door like that
page 101, a later – 1953 – summerhouse, also on the island of
we’re split in two – but we don’t take notice anymore, and Muuratsalo, where Aalto provided an entrance courtyard focused
simply walk on, halved. Is that the reality of a door? What on an external hearth for summer evening meals around a fire.)

then, I ask, is the greater reality? Well, perhaps the greater

reality of a door is the localized setting for a wonderful
INSIDE
human gesture: conscious entry and departure. That’s
what a door is, something that frames your coming and
going, for it’s a vital experience not only for those that do
so, but also for those encountered or left behind. A door
is a place made for an occasion. A door is a place made
for an act that is repeated millions of times in a lifetime
between the first entry and the last exit.’ *
Collect examples of doorway places. Some are shown
here, but you should also find some for yourself.
Draw and think about the entrance to the place where
OUTSIDE
you live. How is the process of entrance and exit modified by
the architectural arrangement? This might involve channel-
first floor
ling movement, gradually increasing enclosure/exposure,
protecting lines of sight, surveillance (seeing who’s coming Herman Hertzberger, a colleague of van Eyck, created elaborate
two-storey doorway places for his Apollo Schools in Amsterdam
to the door), protection from the weather, privacy… all sorts (early 1980s). They incorporate places to shelter and wait.
of different considerations. Add your observations to simple
but neat sketch plans and sections of doorway places that you
know and experience every day.
Look too, of course, at works elsewhere in this book
and published in other books and journals. Look perhaps for
some examples by van Eyck. Your aim, as in all these notebook
exercises, is to increase your ‘vocabulary’ and ‘grammatical
fluency’ in this universal language of place-making. And
handling doorway places is like learning how to introduce
yourself (i.e. your building) pragmatically, considerately…
and with the effect you intend. See if you can find examples
‘made for an occasion…’.

* Aldo van Eyck, in Smithson, ed. – Team 10 Primer, 1968. ground floor

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: door way plac es 49

In prehistoric times it is likely that we lived
more in the places just outside our cave
doorways than inside the cave itself.

In warm climates (this is Chania, Crete) a tree and a few pieces of furniture make a
doorway a pleasant place to sit, read the paper, have a coffee, chat to passers-by…
In this sleeping shelter in Tasmania,
designed by Taylor + Hinds in 2017, the Edward Blore provided Vorontsov’s Palace
door itself can be raised to create and near Alupka on the Crimea (1828–48, left)
shade a doorway place. with an elaborate doorway place, inspired
by the Islamic iwan, which might be used
for evening dinner parties with a view
across the Black Sea.

Even the architect of this simple yet subtle

encampment on the beach thought to
provide it with a doorway and, by adding
side walls, make a place of transition.

But sometimes a doorway place is no

more than a simple porch that provides
considerate shelter for visitors as they wait
to be welcomed inside. (This was William
Morris’s porch at Kelmscott Manor.)
And this encampment is its tent’s doorway
place defined by side walls. (See also
page 172.) See also Doorway and Analysing Architecture: the Universal Language of Place-Making.

50
 inside inside private
(private)

semi-private

in-between semi-public

outside

outside public
(public)

E X E RC I SE 4b – hierarchies of transition yard, precinct, temenos… – with its own gate, propylon… This
creates an in-between zone that is not as private as the inside
As places of transition, doorways are interfaces between the but not as public as the outside. And the degree of privacy or
different worlds we occupy; between, for example, our pri- public-ness of that in-between zone depends to some extent
vate domestic world and the public world outside. In parallel on the height of the territorial wall and whether it is possible
with making doorway places, it is also possible to orchestrate to see through or over the door or gate.
hierarchies of transition between public and private worlds, to It is also possible to orchestrate stages on that public–
soften the ‘brutal guillotine’ (as van Eyck put it in the quotation private dimension to create hierarchies of transition. There
on page 49) of a single door ‘halving’ us. can be more, but often these divide into four stages: public;
All doorways create a fault-line between one place semi-public; semi-private; and private. They make the transi-
and another, usually between an inside and an outside. But tion from inside to outside and vice versa less abrupt (as well
buildings are often set in their own territory – garden, church- as usually providing extra weather protection).

Hierarchies of transition are established in

many different ways. Semi-private spaces
can extend inwards from the exterior wall
(top right) or outwards in the form of a
porch, which itself might have varying
private degrees of enclosure (left; see William private
Morris’s porch on the opposite page).
Such hierarchies of transition do not
need to be aligned along an axis. They can
run along an irregular route, even creating
chicanes or labyrinth entrances (right; see
also the Necromanteion on page 134).
Experiment for yourself with the
possibility of staged hierarchies of
transition between the public realm and
the private. Keep an eye out for them
in your own experience. (It is likely, for
example, that every time you use a public
lavatory you experience a labyrinth
entrance designed to protect the privacy of
those inside and prevent offence to those
public
outside.) There are some more examples public
on the following page.

E XERCISE 4: door way places 51

I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : h iera rch ie s of t ra n sit ion
The Tomb of Agamemnon (c. 1250 BCE,
below) at Mycenae is inside a hill. It is
entered along a dromos the side walls of
which get progressively higher, gradually
increasing enclosure as the entrance
is approached.

long section

dromos
short section
section

The Mamisi Temple (c. 1408 BCE) is

dromos entered up a flight of steps, gradually
rising above its flank walls to reach the
plan temple raised on a platform. The process
of entrance is almost the opposite of that
of the Tomb of Agamemnon.

d
c
a

b
Even that small slateworkers’ cottage
(see page 26) has an entrance transition
created by the thickness of the walls and
the draught screen to the left of the door.
a

There are stages to entering Frank Lloyd Wright’s Ward Willits

House (1902, above) in Highland Park IL. First your car draws up
under the porte-corchère (a). Then you climb a few steps before
the front doorway takes you into a vestibule, where you climb a few
more steps before turning left into the main reception room (b).
Notice how a screen shields the hearth (c) from the entrance (in
a way similar to that in the slateworkers’ cottage, middle left). The
route continues clockwise around the hearth to the dining room
(d), which also has access from the kitchen.
b Traditional Islamic houses have labyrinth entrances (left, a),
which protect the privacy of the interior. Often these lead through
to a beautiful courtyard – open to the sky and with a fountain at the
centre – from which doorways lead to other rooms.
Find more examples of hierarchies of transition, in this book
and elsewhere, and record them in your notebook.

See also the chapter on ‘Transition, Hierarchy, Heart’ in Analysing

Architecture: the Universal Language of Place-Making.

52
SEC T ION T WO
geomet r y
53
SEC T ION T WO – geometr y

T his second set of exercises focuses on the different kinds

of geometry in architecture. Architecture in the widest
sense comprises and has to take into account a variety of
different components/ingredients/factors/conditions: the
world; topography; people individually and socially; mate-
rials and their methods of construction… All tend to have
their own inherent geometries. Sometimes these different
geometries work in harmony; more often they are in con-
flict and compromise is necessary. And then on top of those
inherent geometries – the ‘geometries of being’ – there is
‘ideal geometry’ – the geometry of school mathematics les-
sons, comprising circles, squares, proportional ratios, curves
dictated by equations…* Geometry and how its various kinds
might be used is a core issue in architectural design.
Our bodily form has its own ‘human geometry’; and we
tend to interpret the world around us in terms of it. We think
of ourselves as having six directions emanating from our own
selves as centre: forwards, left and right, backwards, and up
and down. We project these directions out into the world and Ring of Brodgar, Orkney, Neolithic

think of it as having ‘four corners’, ‘the heavens above’ and From prehistoric stone circles (above) to complex architecture
generated by parametric computer software (below), architecture
the earth below as well as ‘cardinal directions’: east, where
is infused with geometry. But in architecture there is not just
the sun rises; west, where the sun sets; south (or north in the one kind of geometry. There are different geometries of being –
southern hemisphere), where the noon sun is at its highest; geometries that derive from how we make sense of the world,
how we behave individually and in groups, and from the properties
and north (south), the direction of shadow. The confluence of of materials and how we put them together… Then there is ideal
directions in ourselves and our interpretation of the world play geometry – the geometry of school mathematics lessons.
a role in place-making. Architecture relates to the directions
that derive from our own form.
Then there is ‘social geometry’. When people come
together as groups they form patterns. In that architecture
sets the frames for what we do together, it can accommodate
such ephemeral social geometry loosely, or set it in more
permanent physical and spatial form.
And then the ‘geometry of making’… The materials and
construction methods by which architecture is realised also
have their own characteristic geometric tendencies. You have
already experienced the geometric tendency of your rectan-
gular children’s building blocks. These tendencies and their
influence on space planning will be explored in the following
exercises too.
Later exercises in this Section will look at the roles of
‘ideal geometry’ in architecture and how it may sometimes be
in conflict with ‘geometries of being’. But first we shall look at
the ways geometry conditions just about every aspect of our
lives, and therefore our architecture too.
Metropol Parasol, Seville, Jürgen Mayer, 2011

* See also the chapters on ‘Geometries of Being’ and ‘Ideal Geometry’ in ‘Geometry is the language of man.’
Analysing Architecture: the Universal Language of Place-Making. Le Corbusier, trans. Etchells – Towards a New Architecture (1923), 1927.

54
E X ERCISE 5: a l ig n ment
In this exercise, using your board, blocks and person(s), you will model the
geometries of the world and of the person. You will also experience some of the
restrictions/conditions that the geometry of making imposes on building (i.e. real-
ising works of architecture in physical – material and spatial – form). Your simple
wooden blocks are not real building materials but they do share some characteris-
tics with proprietary materials available for constructing real buildings that must
stand on the ground under the force of gravity. The chief of these characteristics
relate to the blocks’ geometry: their (precise) rectangular form; their standardised
dimensions; and their simple proportions of 1:1, 1:2, 1:3...
You can use the circular house built in Exercise 2 (page 25) to explore the dif-
ferent sorts of geometry that compete for attention and dominance in architecture.

Your board has its own geometry. It is

like a simplified model of the world as we
like to give sense to it, with its: centre;
four cardinal directions plus ‘up’ and
‘down’; and its horizons defining circles (or
rectangles) of place of varying magnitude.

The person has its geometry too (below).

The person stands in space. It needs room
to breathe and move. The person has four
aspects: front; back; left; and right, which
project axes in each of the four directions.
E X E RC I SE 5 a – geometries of the world and person It also has an ‘up’ direction, stretching into
the sky; and a ‘down’ pressing into the
ground – the direction of the pull of gravity.
Without the house your board has its own geometry. It has four sides; it is rec- The person is its own, mobile, centre,
tangular; its opposite sides are parallel; its corners are right angles; it is flat and around which the person’s circle of place
may be drawn. That circle might be small –
horizontal. Your board also has a centre around which a circle of place might be intimate – it might be moderate – personal
drawn. And, with the two axes indicating the four cardinal directions, your board – or it might be extensive – stretching to
the horizon and beyond. (See Analysing
can be seen as a simple diagram of the world. Architecture: the Universal Language of
Your person has its own geometry too: Place-Making, pages 116–21.)

EXERCISE 5: alignment 55
 E X E RC I SE 5b – geometries aligned

Position your person on the board, at its centre, so its geom-

etry is aligned with that of the board (left). This alignment,
between the geometry of the person and that of the board, may
be achieved whether the person is standing or lying down.
And, since the board is a simple model of the world, we
can see that there are situations where the geometry of the
person can be aligned with that of the world. That alignment
might be between the person and the cardinal directions.
But it may also be achieved in relation to some other datum:
the sea with its distant horizon; a wall (the Western Wall in
Jerusalem, for example); a remote focus (the Ka’ba in Mecca,
for example); or just the street outside your house.

EAST
NORTH

SOUTH

WEST
The centres, axes and circles of place of When you build your wall around the
the person and of the board can coincide. circle of place, leaving a doorway for
access, you are creating an instrument
that physically reinforces the alignment
between the four-directional horizontal
geometry of the person and that which we
ascribe to the world. Whereas the person
will move around and away, the geometry
manifest in the building persists as a
record and reminder of that alignment.
Look around you. Consider how your
own geometry sits in relationship to the
geometry of the place where you are.
If you are in a four-walled rectangular
room, then your own six directions will
have some sort of relationship with
those of the room. That relationship may
well be mediated by the furniture of the
room, which has its own geometry. Here
in my study as I write, my geometry is
aligned with the table on which stands
my computer screen. The table is aligned
with the four walls of the room and with a
window that lights the table. The house is
aligned to the road outside…

56
I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : a l ig n ment

Since ancient times, buildings regarded as sacred have been

designed as instruments of alignment. The square sides of ancient
pyramids, like compasses, were aligned north, east, south, west.
East was the direction of life – the rising sun and the river Nile;
south is the direction of the sun at its height; west is the direction
of the setting sun and the great expanse of the lifeless desert; and
north is the sunless direction.

In your notebook... collect examples where architecture acts west – and others where the architecture aligns the person
as an instrument of alignment. You should draw your exam- with something else – e.g. a distant mountain. You can find
ples as plans, simplified if you wish. Your examples should some examples in books on architectural history but you
include those in which architecture aligns the person with should also find some more recent examples and examples
the world – i.e. the cardinal directions of north, south, east, from your own everyday life.

The principal buildings on the Acropolis in Athens are

instruments of alignment. The Parthenon – the main temple to
Athena, patron goddess of Athens – is aligned to the rising sun
in the east. The Propylaea – the entrance into the sanctuary – is
aligned with Athena’s birthplace on the distant island of Salamis.

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: alignment 57

 We are all intrigued by alignment. How often have you
NORTH
absent-mindedly lined up two things, maybe your toe with a
spot on the carpet, or a camera lens with the ideally composed
scene for a photograph, or the tip of an arrow with a target?
You have probably experienced the aligning power of
architecture in your everyday life more often than you con-
sciously acknowledge. For example, your own house might
be aligned, through the orientation of its main doorway and WEST EAST
windows, to: the sun in the south (north, in the southern
hemisphere); a view of the sea and its distant horizon; the
public road outside... You have also experienced the aligning
power of architecture every time you have sat in a classroom,
lecture room, theatre, cinema or even dining room.
Place-making and alignment (orientation) are two
fundamental powers of architecture. It is no wonder you find SOUTH
them in grand public architecture too. These powers belong
to churches, mosques and temples of all religions and faiths.
They also apply in palaces, parliaments, factories, shops and Even Le Corbusier’s chapel at Ronchamp is an instrument of
workshops. alignment, though its own geometry is not rectangular.

Mecca

A lecture room (theatre, cinema...) is an instrument of alignment,

aligning the audience to sit facing the lecturer (play, movie...).

A mosque aligns worshippers with Mecca.

NORTH

A table for a meeting is an instrument of alignment, as may also

WEST EAST be the room in which it stands. (This is a drawing of the room in
which I was sitting during a long meeting. The portion at the right
is a section, turned sideways. The tables and chairs set the frame
SOUTH within which the meeting took place. The chairperson is at the left
of the drawing aligned with the axis of the tables, which is parallel
with but not quite aligned with that of the room to allow people to
walk down one side of the table. Notice that even the benches
A church aligns the congregation to the altar and to the cardinal outside are aligned with the geometry of the room and
directions of the world. its windows. This is a certain kind of neatness.

58
E X ERCISE 6: a nt h ropomet r y
Architecture accommodates many different kinds of thing – In this case the conflict is caused by a combination of:
animals, works of art, furniture, even atmospheres or moods... the standard sizes of the building blocks available; the size
– but its chief and most challenging content is us, people. of the little artists’ manikins I was using for ‘the person’; and
Human beings can see (in straight lines) and have emotional the size of circle I could draw on my board. I could have made
responses to changing situations. We also have physical form. the beds long enough for the manikins (below) but then they
Though people come in all shapes and sizes, variations fall would have taken up too much of the limited interior space.
within a fairly narrow range. Human beings rarely exceed a It would not be acceptable to make such a compromise in a
particular height, and generally they move, their joints bend, real building. (Notice too how the rectangular geometry of
in the same way. The body – its size, reach, mobility – presents the beds conflicts with the circular geometry of the interior
another kind of geometry – anthropometry – which can be of the house, leaving unusable spaces between the beds and
distinguished from the four-directional geometry we ascribe the wall.)
to the world around and the geometry of the four aspects of Being no more than an indicative model, the conflict
the person standing in space (both of which geometries were is ‘unreal’ and I offered a compromise using a smaller bed.
the subject of Exercise 5). Anthropometry (the measure of the But such conflicts afflict real products of architecture too,
person) is a third geometric factor to be taken into account buildings that have to accommodate the actual size of human
when giving form to space through architecture. beings.

E X E RC I SE 6 a – the ‘Goldilocks’ principle Though there are, as we shall see, other measures that
can be used to set the scale in architecture – e.g. relationships
You will have noticed, in the house I made in Exercise 2 with context, non-human content, assumed inf lation of
(above) and in my rough model of Asplund’s Woodland status… – the most vital and germane architectural scale
Chapel on page 33, that the beds and catafalque would not is that of the human body. After all, the prime motivation
be comfortable for the people (or corpse) shown: their heads for architecture is to provide places to frame people, their
and feet (coffin) would dangle over the ends. The beds are not activities, possessions, beliefs, worship… But we vary in size
long enough; if I had made them so they would have occu- and ability. Making beds – or for that matter doorways, seats,
pied too much of the space available within the circle of wall. tables, steps… – is always a ‘Goldilocks’ compromise: not too
Though not in a real building, this is an example of a conflict big; not too small; just right. Though of course sometimes, for
of geometries – those of the bed and the person. particular reasons, we might break this rule.

EXERCISE 6: anthropometry 59
H U M A N M E AS U R E

The range of sizes catered for in building elements is not always

generous enough. Prison accommodation, for example, usually
tends to be economical with space. In January 2011 it was
reported that a Dutch prisoner was going to court because his cell
was too small for him. His bed was 770mm (2’6”) wide by 1960mm
(6’5”) long, which would be large enough for most of the human
race. But this prisoner, described by his lawyer as ‘a giant’, was
1000mm (3’3”) wide by 2070mm (6’9”) long. He was complaining
that he could not use the lavatory or shower properly either.

There are no universally fixed ‘right’ dimensions for the vertical

and horizontal surfaces of steps (the ‘rise’ and the ‘going’). But if
the risers were too high and the going too narrow, you would find
the stair very uncomfortable to climb and descend (especially
if dancing). Also, if the going was too long, and did not fit
comfortably the human stride, or if the rise was too shallow so
that you would repeatedly trip, then you could say that the stair
did not follow the Goldilocks principle.

According to the Goldilocks principle a doorway should be just

the right height and width for a person (of average dimensions) to
pass through easily… though you might have reasons for making it
bigger or smaller.*

The private offices of Members of the Scottish Parliament in In the parish offices of the Church of St Petri at Klippan (1963–6)
Edinburgh (designed by Enric Miralles and opened in 2004) also in Sweden,* the architect Sigurd Lewerentz provided a seat for
have window seats tailored to the size of a person. They are moments of contemplation or conversation. Though built of uncut
contained in pods that protrude outwards from the face of the bricks, every dimension of the seat, as well as its shape, fits the
building. The seat and steps allow the Member to adopt various human body. If alone, the seat opposite is just right for putting
positions, from sitting upright to reclining with feet up (on any of your feet up. Even the slit window is at just the right height.
the four steps). The window seats were intended for Members to
sit and ponder their political problems and matters of policy, alone * See also Analysing Architecture: the Universal Language of Place-
or with someone perched on a step opposite. Making, pp. 114–15 and 131.

60
A step can be too high… … or just about right. A seat can be too high… … or just about right.

E X E RC I SE 6b – some key points of measure

The bed, where we lie down to sleep, is one of the key situations where we measure
our bodies against the architecture that accommodates us. There are others.
Use your building blocks to explore the relationship between the size of the
body and various components in the spaces we occupy. Within the limits of the
blocks you have and the size of the manikin you are using to represent yourself and
other human beings try to find harmonic relationships between the person and the
following: a step or flight of steps; a seat; a work desk or dining table; a counter for
selling or preparing food; a doorway...
You can experiment to find heights that are too low, too high and just right.
In the case of the doorway you can decide on the apt width as well as height. It
is no accident that the height and width of a doorway is similar to the length and
breadth of a single bed; they both accommodate the human form, with some leeway
in both the long and short dimensions.
Think too about how our own dimensions, the height of our eyes for example,
might be related to windows, the heights of their sills, their lintels, the positions
According to human scale, a doorway
of glazing bars… should be just wide enough and just high
enough to allow most people through.
But still, very tall people might bump their
See also the chapter on ‘Geometries of Being’ in Analysing Architecture: the Universal Language of heads… and you might have various
Place-Making. reasons for making them bigger or smaller.

Our size influences the dimensions of place-making, from sitting down, sitting working at
a desk, standing working at a counter…

EXERCISE 6: anthropometry 61
I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : hu ma n me a su re
In your notebook... measure and draw elements of buildings that relate to the sizes
of people. Measure and draw them in two ways: measure them in terms of the parts
of the body to which they relate (e.g. a seat in relation to the length of your lower
leg; a work surface in relation to your height and arms…); and measure them with
a tape or ruler, in millimetres or inches. Doing this you will develop a sense of the
relationship between the two ways of measuring, which will help you get a grip of
sizes when you have to design to a scale of 1:50, 1:20…
Many of these elements are made to standard dimensions; others tend to
be found within a limited range. For example: ‘off-the-shelf’ doors are made to
a range of standard widths and heights; dining chairs tend to be similar heights;
as are tables and desks, or work counters for kitchens. Steps in grand and public
buildings are usually shallower than those in private houses.
By your researches, as well as by looking at manufacturers’ catalogues, discover
the size ranges of these elements that relate to the sizes of people. Estimate the
tolerances involved. Try them for yourself; get a conscious feel for their dimensions.
As an architect, these dimensions are part of the language with which you work.
They should become readily available to you from your memory.
This may seem a prosaic aspect of architecture but the dimensions of elements
that relate to the sizes of people constitute an important way in which the forms
of places engage with the people who occupy them. There can be a comfortable
agreement between the geometry of people and the geometry of built elements, This is a drawing of the place marked ‘c’ in
the plan of the Welsh slateworkers’ cottage
or uncomfortable conflict. Poetry and harmony can be instilled into the subtle on page 26. It is an economical use of
manipulation of scale. Even emotions can be affected. Think of the difference space in a dwelling that is far from large.
Almost everything in it is tied to the scale
between climbing or descending a stair with a gentle pitch and doing the same on and reach of the human body. The seats
one that is steep, precipitous. Think too of being in a room with window sills above are a good height for sitting, the table just
eye height, or one with very low ceilings. Scale can be like volume in music: trying the right height for a meal. Everything on
the shelves is reachable. And the window,
to sing in a key that is too high or too low (note the spatial metaphor) for your voice though small to reduce heat loss, is at a
is uncomfortable. Like Goldilocks you want the scale to be ‘just right’… unless you good height to see approaching visitors
as well as light the table. Its sill provides
have a particular reason for making it otherwise. Find some examples of that too. a reachable shelf for books and the
newspaper. Everything about this small
place is composed to accommodate the
human body enjoying a meal.

The sizes of elements such as steps and

stairs relate to the innate dimensions of the
human frame and the ways we move.

In that seat (page 60) Lewerentz defied the

innate geometry of bricks to fit the subtle
form of a seated human being (right).

62
Being designed as a refuge that could be transported to remote But sometimes, for good reason, the apparent authority of
regions, Charlotte Perriand’s design for ‘le refuge tonneau’ human scale is overridden. The steps up to the Lincoln Memorial
(above) had to be economical in size. But it had to accommodate in Washington DC (Henry Bacon, 1922) have to fit human
the essential places for human domestic existence. All these – dimensions for practical reasons; but other elements are designed
beds, ladder, hatches, shelves… – were carefully sized in relation to a very different scale. The columns and the doorway take the
to a body’s dimensions, even when dressed in heavy boots and heroic scale of Lincoln as one of the great politicians of the United
bulky clothes. All were carefully packed together around a stove States of America. Occasionally other presidents emerge through
in as small a space as possible, like in a boat, motor car, airplane. doorways also sized to reflect their (assumed) status (below).

Sometimes a place might not really be

big enough but the effect can be amusing
(left). On the top of this barrel there is just
enough room for this couple to dance;
but their movement is restricted and their
situation precarious. Nevertheless the
elevation and dimensions of this miniature
stage contribute to the entertainment
provided.

Guests enter a traditional Japanese tea-

house through an elevated small doorway
(nijiriguchi). Guests having to crawl in
reduces status differences between them,
so they all experience the ceremony as
equals.

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: human measure 63

E X ERCISE 7: so cia l ge omet r y
E X E RC I SE 7 a – social circle

The spatial arrangement of our circular

house establishes a social geometry
between the two occupants (below).
With the beds at each side of the fire
they can sit opposite each other talking
while warming their feet, enveloped
and framed by the circle of walls, with
their shared axis at right-angles to that
other axis shared by the doorway and
the table (altar).
Architecture does not only frame the lone person; it accommodates groups of
people too. And when they congregate, people intuitively arrange themselves in
particular geometries. Around a campfire, for example, we tend to form a social
circle. Architecture – place-making – responds to these social geometries and sets
frames for them. Such frames accommodate social geometries but they may also
lay down spatial rules for how people relate to each other.

The two beds and their occupants

have an equal relationship to the fire,
the doorway and the table.
If someone were to enter, there
would be an equal relationship between
each of the occupants sitting on their
beds and the visitor, demonstrating a
As well as identifying a centre, a circle of place and perhaps the geometry of the world social triangle between the beds and the
and time, a circle of standing stones may be interpreted as making permanent the
geometry of a group of people standing together, perhaps witnessing and defining the
doorway (which expands into a quad-
place of a ceremony. The social circle, and its representation in a stone circle, is a rangle if the ‘altar’ is included.
manifestation and symbol of community.

64
 Try other social arrangements area would be small this arrangement
within the circular house. The circle, is very like a theatre, with the doorway
which in other ways can be impractical, as a proscenium arch. It is also like a
lends itself to various arrangements of church, with the doorway as chancel
social geometry. arch; or like a mosque, with the door-
We have seen (in Exercise 3) that way as mihrab. It is like a court of law
the doorway axis creates a significant too, with the person entering being the
position on the wall opposite – a focus accused, come to face the judgment of
of a different kind from the hearth the assembly, headed by the judge (at A).
placed at the centre of the circle. This In these four examples the hearth
focus opposite the doorway would be has retained its position as the focus
1
the obvious place to situate a signifi- of the house and of the social geome-
cant object: a work of art perhaps or an try. Think about and experiment with
altar to a god. It could also be a place arrangements where the place of the
for a seat, a throne. Sitting there you hearth is taken by a table, maybe for
(your person) would hold a dominant a meal or a meeting. As you can see,
position. Anyone who enters would be both tend to create rather static social
in direct confrontation (1), maybe as an geometry; the central hearth or table is
inferior asking for something (a suppli- an obstacle to free movement. It could
cant), or maybe as a challenger seeking be removed to open up the floor area,
to overthrow your authority. making the place more open… maybe
As observed on page 43, the per- for drama or dancing (5).
son occupying the throne may prefer to The subtleties of social geom-
sit to one side of the axis, maybe at right etry are manifold. They are always
2
angles. In this position a visitor (sup- matters of architecture. They may be
plicant or challenger) would enter from accommodated by architectural space.
the side and, when standing opposite, But, in their various forms, they also
occupy a position of less confrontation, prompt and influence modifications of
with both of you equally lit by the light architectural form. So when you are
from the doorway and fire (2). A designing a space, think carefully about
The circle lends itself to a gath- the social geometry you envisage it
ering of people too, assembled maybe accommodating, whether that geometry
to discuss matters of shared interest. is formal and static, or provides room
In the circle all are, more or less, equal for free movement; whether it asserts a
(3). The circle is the arrangement of particular social arrangement – as in a
people sitting around a fire in the open court of law (see pages 69 and 216) – or
landscape; it is also the natural form of 3
allows people to make their own flexible
a parliament of equals… But maybe one arrangements – as in a barn or hall.
member of the gathering is more impor-
tant than the others – their leader or
chair person. That person would prob-
ably occupy a particular position made
significant by the architecture: perhaps
the seat directly opposite the doorway
(A in 3). They might also be provided
with a larger, more imposing seat.
A person entering through the
doorway into such a gathering would be
like an actor coming onto stage in front
of an audience (4). Though the ‘stage’ 4 5

E X E R C I S E 7: s o c i a l g e o m e t r y 65
E X E RC I SE 7 b – other situations framing social geometry

Reflect on how arrangements of people can have emotional

effects on those involved, affecting their perception of their
situation and of their relationships with others.
As we have already seen in Marina Abramovic’s ‘The
Artist is Present’ (page 32) and in the notebook exercise
on ‘alignment’ (page 58), a table can be an instrument for
establishing social geometry – as in the case of a formal
business meeting. In ‘The Artist is Present’, the table (unused)
1
intercedes in the confrontation between Abramovic and her
visitor (an arena for a telepathic game). A longitudinal dining
table establishes the social geometry of a meal. With place
settings, it organises relationships between the dominant
positions at each end, seats next to the ends, and those in the
middle of each side (1). In Roman times the social geometry
of dining was rather different. Guests reclined on couches
in a triclinium (2), reaching food from a table in the centre.
Doctors, in their consultation rooms, usually avoid the
‘Abramovic’ confrontation implied by sitting behind a desk
with their patient opposite (3a). Instead, they arrange their
furniture so that patients sit to one side (3b). The direction of 2
light entering from a window might be an important consid-
eration too. (The doctor will not want the patient silhouetted
against the window; and vice versa for the patient.)
A doorway (4) frames a point where people meet. It
acts as a fulcrum between the two worlds they occupy and
channels the line of eye contact. Usually this meeting is not
a confrontation but one of reunion… or, often, of a delivery.
The doorway identifies a place of welcome, a place of farewell,
a place of transaction.
All these moments of human interaction have their
social geometries, to which architecture responds and pro-
vides frames. Synergy between social geometry and archi- 3a 3b
tectural frame is a factor in architectural appropriateness.

66
1 an ingle-nook 2 around a hearth 3 distorted by a television

The relationship between spatial organisation and social

geometry might be said to be symbiotic. Architecture helps the
group of people – their social geometry – by providing it with
a frame that gives it order and makes its place permanent.
Without people as ingredients, architecture is devoid of life.
People provide the raison d’être for place-making (even when
they are not actually present).
A traditional ingle-nook frames social geometry around
a hearth (1). A television placed in a room distorts the social
geometry of furniture arranged around a hearth (2, 3).
There are many ways in which architecture sets the
frame, perhaps a matrix, for the positions and relationships
of people in groups. The layout of the lecture room (page 58)
is one example. So too is the layout of beds in a hospital ward
oriented towards a central aisle (4); or that of graves in a cem-
etery (5) oriented towards the setting sun, Mecca or the sea.
Various architectural elements can be used to manage,
frame, accommodate social geometries. These may be beds,
chairs, a table, desks, a hearth, a television... Doorways, walls, 4 beds in a ward
roofs, windows, pathways (aisles, corridors, roads...), defined
areas of ground (mats, carpets, paved areas, forest clearings…)
can all play a part too. Try some different arrangements for
yourself. Be conscious of social geometry when you experience
it, and draw examples in your notebook.

On the beach a rug might be an instrument of social geometry.

Though if it is too small the geometry it produces might seem a
little perverse, with members of a family all facing away from each
other rather than towards a shared arena. 5 graves in a cemetery

E X E R C I S E 7: s o c i a l g e o m e t r y 67
A C H O I R S TA L L – personal and social geometry

There is geometry innate in our own bodily form and in the

ways we move and position ourselves. There is geometry
too in the ways we relate to each other in social and formal
situations. Often architecture accommodates and frames
both at the same time.
Cathedrals have choir stalls. In some cases individual
stalls are made to accommodate the chorister in a variety of
positions. They are designed according to the anthropometry
of sitting, standing and half-sitting/half-standing. This is
done with: a seat that folds up or down, fitted with a small-
er perch – a misericord – on its under side; knobs (maybe
in the form of cherubs) useful in standing up; and ledges
on which to lean when standing. Some choristers might be
aged and infirm, and all these features would be helpful and
make them more comfortable when responding to the litur-
gical demands of a service.
When the seat is down (1) the stall accommodates
normal sitting. The knob helps the chorister lever himself
1 2 sitting
into a standing position (2). When standing, the ledges (3, at
elbow height) provide the chorister with something on which
to lean, making it easier to stand for a long time by reducing
the weight on the feet. And the misericord provides a sur-
reptitious perch for those who need it, so they may appear
standing whilst actually supporting their weight on the small
seat (4).
Choir stalls also provide an example of architecture
framing social geometry (5). Choristers are seated in a reg-
ular arrangement of stalls, oriented as a group towards the
altar (not shown in the drawing).

3 standing 4 perching

direction of the altar

5 the social geometry set by choir stalls

68
I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : so cia l ge omet r y
In your notebook... think of and find other situations in which ‘The set is the geometry of the eventual play.’
Peter Brook – The Empty Space, 1968.
architecture frames social geometries. Find examples that
correspond to those you have experimented with in your
block models. Be open to finding others too. Social geometries
begin with the patterns people make when they come together
for various communal activities. Architecture frames these
patterns but also modifies them, tidies them up, orders them...
gives sense to them spatially… i.e. architecture provides them
with a settled place. That place is somewhat akin to a philo-
sophical proposition or the rules of a game (think of the part
played by the court in a tennis match or the ground in cricket).
It is tested by how well it suits the people, things and activities
it accommodates. As such it is itself open to modification,
improvement… approaching ever more effectively a state of
harmony with the ‘play’ it frames. Maybe, as an architect, you
will be able to achieve this harmony straight-away in your
first design, but often it takes time: both during the design
process, and during the life of a building/place. This tiny restaurant in Kerala, South India, frames the social
geometry of people eating whilst being served by the cook. Notice
that the table from which the lady – a ‘priestess’ – serves the food
is an ‘altar’ – the focus of the place – from which the diners –
‘worshippers’ – sitting at simple wooden tables on simple wooden
benches, receive ‘communion’.

section

plan

A law court frames the process of hearing and justice. Each Call centres, where people work answering the telephone, are
player – judge, lawyers, defendant, jury, witness... – is allocated carefully arranged to optimise the use of space and the layout of
their own precise location within the spatial matrix established cables. A geometric arrangement is most economical. Desks are
by the architecture. (See also the courtroom on page 216, which designed to suit the relationship between person and computer,
is discussed as setting the space-time ‘rules’ for the process of with screens to reduce the temptation to gossip with neighbours
justice dispensation.) (or, as I write in 2021, the risk of virus infection).

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: soc ial geometr y 69

E X ERCISE 8: ge omet r y of ma k i ng
All the models you have made so far E X E RC I SE 8a – form and geometry
with your blocks have been conditioned
by two things: the constant vertical In Exercise 2 we built a circular house.
force of gravity acting perpendicular to We can now evaluate it, or at least its
the horizontal surface of your board (1); enclosing wall, in terms of the geometry
and, the regular rectangular geometry of of making.
the blocks themselves, probably ordered
according to a shared module (2); i.e.
blocks are proportioned 1:1, 0.5:2,
1:2, 0.5:3. Gravity and the geometry
of building components constitute
the bases of the geometry of making. On the inside the joints are very
They condition the ways in which just narrow, whilst on the outside they are
about all building materials can be put excessively wide. Blocks are not malle-
together to make buildings. able, they cannot be bent into shape. So
to form a circle there has to be compro-
mise. To build a neat circular wall we
The board provided a f lat and could cut each block to shape: parallel
horizontal surface on which to build. top and bottom surfaces but segmental
The flat and parallel opposite surfaces – to the same radius – in plan (below).
of the rectangular blocks allowed them (You can do this if you have the time to
to rest stable on the board and, for a cut each block to shape!)
number of courses, to be built one upon
another. You used blocks of various
lengths so that you could bond them
– place each block resting on two, i.e.
1 gravity across a joint in the course below – for
greater integrity. The length of the long-
est block (0.5:3) determined the width of
the doorway. These are all aspects of the
geometry of making: the verticality of
the wall in response to gravity; the reg-
0.5 ular courses related to the dimensions
of the blocks; the bonded courses for
integrity; and the width of the doorway
related to the length of its lintel. Segmental blocks produce a neat
But there is one aspect in which circular wall. But these blocks may only
1
the geometry of making of this enclos- be used for a wall with this particular
ing circular wall was a compromise. If radius. They are special not standard.
1 you look at the wall from above, when They cannot be used generally, only
it is seen most nearly as a circle, you in particular circumstances. We could
will observe that the arrangement of build a neat curved wall, wavy in plan,
rectangular blocks is not as neat and with the same blocks (opposite top left,
regular as could be (top right). Like upper). But building a straight flat wall
square pegs and round holes, there is a with them would be just as problematic
misfit between rectangular blocks and as building a circular wall with rectan-
2 modular blocks curved walls. gular blocks (opposite top left, lower).

70
 Mud or clay bricks might be made with different dimensions
in different cultures but their regular rectangular shape and
consistent size make building a variety of different sized walls
and enclosures easier. The geometry of making applies to
most building materials, traditional and modern: stone; timber;
Regular rectangular blocks are a lot more versatile; glass; metal… Even concrete construction is conditioned by the
especially so if manufactured to modular sizes. They can geometry of making of the formwork into which it is poured. Only
excavation and perhaps 3d-printing can evade its authority.
be used to build neat straight flat walls of any length and to
make enclosures of any size. This is why building blocks in This means that with a stock of regular sized rectangu-
any material are generally manufactured as rectangular and lar blocks you can build an infinite variety of (rectangular)
to standard dimensions. buildings. You do not need specially cut shapes. This is the
insight – from thousands of years ago – behind the basic,
consistently sized, clay or mud brick and the cutting of stone
into regular rectangular blocks for building ashlar walls. It
is a principle underlying the manufacture of all standardised
building components.
Experiment with the neat forms you are able to build
using your rectangular blocks. Notice how important your
flat horizontal board is as a base for building. If it slopes,
your walls are no longer vertical – no longer aligned with the
vertical force of gravity – and, if the slope is excessive, they
will collapse. If your base were to be bumpy you would not
be able to construct even horizontal courses and your wall
would be untidy and probably unstable (below).
Though challenged by computer generated design and
manufacture (allowing more complex curvaceous forms)
the geometry of making continues to condition (govern) the
discipline of most architectural construction.

In replicating these models and building your own, notice how Regular building, according to the geometry of making, is
important the flat level surface of your board is to its stability. You dependent on a flat base. Even with rectangular standardised
know it is not worth trying to build them on a ruckled carpet (right) blocks it is impossible to build an ordered and stable wall on an
or on a slope. This is true too of full-size construction. Masonry uneven surface. A real brick wall needs a flat foundation, usually
walls need a flat and horizontal foundation. of concrete poured into a trench at a depth to protect it from frost.

EXERCISE 8: geometry of making 71

E X E RC I SE 8b – adding a roof The same problems, though not Of course flat roofs leak in the
insuperable, afflict real building too. It rain unless they are carefully water-
Now try to put a roof on your circu- is fiddly to cover a circular space with proofed. But the same basic principle
lar house. A flat roof will do for the intrinsically rectangular elements. is equally applicable to the provision of
moment; you can also think of it as an In Exercise 2 I suggested that a roof trusses to support a pitched roof.
upstairs floor. You need to make the circular house could be covered with a (See opposite.)
roof or floor in two layers: a structure of conical roof, pitched to shed rain.
beams; and then the roof or floor itself.
First you will need to span beams
from one side of the circle to the other.
You might need to cut some pieces of
timber to length or you could glue some
of the smaller blocks together.

Since prehistoric times circular

houses have been roofed in similar
ways. But it requires intricacy in design
and substantial skill in the builders to
Next you can span some of the succeed in more than a rudimentary
smaller blocks from one beam to way. It would also require rather more
another, like roof- or f loorboards. structure than shown here – to tie the
Though not all exactly the same, many rafters (shown in the drawing) together
roofs and floors around the world are as an integrated structure.
built according to this geometry of
making. E X E RC I SE 8 c – parallel walls

Now try putting a roof over two parallel

walls (right – sequential images, top to
bottom).
You can see that the result is easier
to achieve and neater. Beams can all
be cut or made to the same length and
planks prepared in standard dimen-
sions. This principle of the geometry
of making is the reason why the house
in which you live probably (though
not certainly) has rectangular rooms
But you can see that there are (though floorboards will not be cut to It is much easier to construct a roof over
the space between parallel walls than
problems. The beams have to be cut to span just between two beams but across
over a circular enclosure. The circular
different lengths, and the boards (cer- a number). The principle illustrated in enclosure may be in accord with our
tainly in our simplified example) do not this exercise applies (broadly speaking) primitive sense of the shape of a place
– our personal or social circle – but
neatly cover the circle; there are small in concrete and steel structures as well issues relating to the geometry of making
sections that are not covered. as timber. introduce the need for compromise.

72
G E O M E T RY O F M A K I N G – Welsh house

The drawing alongside shows a late seventeenth- or early rafters and

eighteenth-century Welsh house. Its walls are built of stone purlins
ridge battens
trusses
and its floors, roof structure, internal partition walls, doors
wall plate
and windows are in timber. Since glass was not readily
available when the house was built, the windows were orig-
slates
inally barred for security with vertical pieces of timber set in
rectangular frames that could be shuttered on the inside to
keep out the weather.
Part of the roof covering has been cut away in the draw-
ing. You can see that although the house frames a place to
live (divided into a number of rooms on two floors), its form
is conditioned throughout by the geometry of making. The
walls are parallel, allowing two roof trusses to span from
one side to the other. The nearer of these also determines
the position of one of the timber partition walls in the plan
below. The trusses, together with the gable walls, support
two purlins on each side, which in turn support the common
rafters which are arranged parallel along the whole length of
the roof. The rafters, in their turn, support battens to which
the roof slates are fixed.
You can just see that the form of the internal walls, the
upper floor and the windows is conditioned by the geometry
of making suited to the materials from which they are made.
The walls are thick because they are built, not from regular
standard blocks, but from roughly-shaped stones. Notice
how, although the stones around the windows are irregular,
they have been chiselled to three straight sides to fit the
rectangular geometry of the window. The floor and roof
structure is built from timber roughly shaped into rectangular
sections and straight lengths to facilitate construction. The
trusses are triangular to pitch the roof to shed rain, and
tied together and braced for structural stability. The only
place where there is some (what might be called) aesthetic
geometry is in the small diagonal wind braces – not all are
shown in the drawing – at the junctions between the trusses
and the purlins. These help to stiffen the structure against the
wind. They have been cusped (the ‘bites’ taken out of their
sides) for decoration. Some of the internally visible timbers
making up the trusses have been decoratively cusped too.
In some traditional old Welsh houses the structure
is all of timber (right). Here too form is conditioned by the
geometry of making, even if some of the timbers used are
from trees that have grown in a curve. Indeed, sometimes
curved timbers were especially sought, so that the
internal space would be more accommodating to human
occupation.* Such structures are stable because they are
nominally triangular. But the curve of the timbers helps make
the living space a little more commodious.
Architecture always involves compromises between
different kinds of geometry. In cruck-framed houses there
is compromise between the geometry of making and human
geometry. Social geometry too is modified to fit into the crucks
rectangular spaces that the geometry of making tends to
produce.

The drawings on this page are based on illustrations in:

Peter Smith – Houses of the Welsh Countryside, 1975.

* See also page 64 of Curve, in the Analysing Architecture Notebook

series. a cruck truss from a different type of Welsh house

GEOMETRY OF MAKING – Welsh house 73

E X E RC I SE 8 d – try toothpicks…

Children’s blocks are only one type of standardised material

you can experiment with in models to understand the way
the geometry of making works. Try, for example, toothpicks,
matches, pasta (penne, spaghetti…), lolly sticks, cardboard of
different types and weights, coat hanger wire, string, stretch
fabric… even marbles (though they are difficult…). Explore
how the innate characteristics of each – uniformity, straight-
ness, rigidity, flexibility… – influences the sorts of forms you
can make with them. You will find that the geometry of mak-
ing is not so much an authoritative rule that ‘must be obeyed’
but more a condition, an influence, a tendency… affecting
how you might do things (but equally preventing you from
doing other things). Some architects through history have
been happy to work within its conditions; some have sought
to optimise its possibilities in some way; others have aspired
to transcend its constraints. All have to adopt an attitude
of some kind to the geometry of making (see also page 90).

models from Eliasson’s ‘In Real Life’ exhibition at Tate Modern, 2019

The artist Olafur Eliasson experiments with the relationship

between form and the geometry of making using a variety of
easily obtainable materials. The characteristics of each influence
the shapes and forms that can be made from them. Notice,
for instance, that the forms that can be made from paper or
card are different from those that can be made from wire or
from stretchable materials. It is the same in architecture. The
characteristics of building materials condition the forms that can
be built with them. Steel, concrete, timber, brick, glass, ropes and
cables… come in different shapes and sizes, are assembled in
different ways, and have different properties (strength, flexibility,
transparency…) all of which affect the shapes and spaces that can
be made with them.
The models from Eliasson’s workshop illustrate the sculptural
possibilities of the geometry of making. But as an architect you
will have to add a layer of discrimination to assess how such forms
can be used in place-making. If you replicate some of Eliasson’s
models or invent your own, consider whether and how they are
suited to place-making. Most seem to lend themselves to the
possibility of being roofs. But think about various factors: how
their structure might be achieved at larger scale to accommodate
human activity; how it might be made weatherproof and shed
rainwater; how it might be entered; how daylight might be
admitted; whether enough usable space is available (in terms
of headroom etc.)… Place-making involves many practical
considerations that sculptural model-making does not.
In the media – journals, books, internet – look for examples
where architects have sought to exploit the sculptural excitement
of the geometry of making. There are many examples. But make
your own assessment of how well they work in terms of place-
You can learn a great deal about the geometry of making, and making. Look at their structures and constructions, how they
about issues that arise with it, by trying to make forms with simple shed rainwater, how their architects have managed to give them
materials such as toothpicks… and then trying to make them into entrances, how light enters… all those factors that are involved in
rudimentary works of architecture. place-making rather than mere sculptural form.

74
The ends of the slates The battens to which the The door has its own
are not shown on the slates are attached geometry of making.
end elevations. are not shown. It hinges outwards.

Diagonal braces help

make the structure rigid.

G E O M E T RY O F M A K I N G – building materials

Materials have their innate geometry. The construction of

a simple shed (above) is conditioned by the geometry of
the timber and slate from which it is built. (I have shown the
inner structural frame, which has its own geometry, dashed
in the drawing.) The roof is pitched diagonally to shed water.
The geometry of reinforced concrete is conditioned by
the geometry of making of the formwork (in this case timber)
into which it is poured (left).
A steel frame is conditioned by the geometry of steel
beams… (below left).
Sometimes, as in the case of traditional Japanese join-
ery, the geometry of making becomes aesthetic, poetic in its
own right (below).

GEOMETRY OF MAKING – building materials 75

I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : ge omet r y of a hou se

Our house has walls of different thicknesses, all built of the same
brick. Internal walls are one brick thick. Some external walls are
two bricks thick. Others, facing the prevailing weather, have two
skins of brickwork with a 2" (51mm) cavity between. It was built
in the early twentieth century. Construction materials and methods
have changed since then.

In your notebook... work out how the geometry of making tion (there may be more but I am uncertain of the depth of
influenced/conditioned the way the house you live in was built. the foundation below the surface of the ground). There are
Above is my house; it was built about a hundred years also twelve brick courses between the head of the downstairs
ago. Drawings 4 and 2 on the following page show the ground window and the sill of the upstairs window, though two of
(US first) and first (US second) floors. To the original house these are occupied by the concrete lintel that supports the
we added the single storey part (shown only in outline on the wall directly above the window. The whole is an exercise in
upper floor plan, 2). harmonizing the size of the wall and its openings with the
Though the walls are covered externally with a layer of size of the standard brick. This is the geometry of making.
cement render and internally by plaster, I know they are built
of fired clay bricks, slightly bigger than used in the UK today,
nominally 3" high x 4½" wide x 9" long (76mm x 114mm x
229mm). The geometry of the brick conditions the geometry
of the walls. The basic principle is that these standard-sized
bricks are laid in even courses starting on an even horizontal
foundation of concrete poured into a trench dug in the ground
and allowed to set hard. Mortar joints, both horizontal and
vertical, are evenly ½" (12mm) wide.
Whole books have been written on the subtleties of
building brick walls – there is no space to repeat them here
– but this basic principle suggests it is sensible (though not
obligatory) to: build brick walls vertical, perpendicular to
the force of gravity and the horizontal foundation; make
openings rectangular and horizontal/vertical; make lengths
of wall a whole number of half bricks (not always possible);
and make the heights of walls, and window sills and heads,
a whole number of courses above the foundation (this is not
always possible either).
Here, to illustrate (right), is a portion of wall from my
house stripped of its cement render. There are six whole bricks
Brick walls can be built to any dimension. But, especially with
from the corner of the wall to the window. The window is walls of moderate and small dimensions it is sensible to make
five whole bricks wide and twenty one high. Then there are them a whole number of half brick lengths long and a whole
number of brick heights high. This will greatly reduce the number
another six whole bricks to the other corner. The window sill of bricks that have to be cut. Lintels and sills should fit in with brick
is (in the drawing) twelve bricks above the concrete founda- dimensions too.

76
 1 roof structure

The floors and roof of my house are also conditioned by a

b
the geometry of making. You can see from the drawings that
the plan is orthogonal, composed of rectangles with parallel
opposite walls. This not only accords with the rectangular
geometry of the bricks but also makes it easier to build the
intermediate floor and roof. Drawing 3 shows the direction
of the evenly spaced floor joists over the downstairs of the
2 upper floor plan
original house and the rafters in the roofs over our additions.
(The wider spaced rafters are in the glass roof of a conserv-
atory or sun room.) As in the Welsh houses on page 73, the
floorboards run at right angles to these joists; and ceiling
boards are fixed to their underside.
Drawing 1 shows the parallel rafters and ridges of the
roof of the original house. Battens (not shown) onto which c

the roof slates are fixed run parallel to each other and at right
angles to these rafters.
The slates are laid to their own geometry. They too,
like the bricks, are of a standard size – in this case 14" x 7"
(356mm x 178mm). They are laid as shown in the drawing
above. Because they are rectangular they fit neatly next to
3 floor structure
each other in rows (also called courses). But the bottom edge
of each slate must overlap two courses beneath, so that water
will not leak through the joints.

It is usual to draw upper floor plans directly above lower floor

plans, so that they may be read intuitively. In the plans of my
house you can see that the upper floor plan is not exactly
congruent with the lower. At one point (a) a brick wall upstairs has
no wall below, so it has to be supported on a steel beam (indicated
at c). Another upstairs wall (b) is just supported on the timber floor,
but it is light, being made not of bricks but of compressed straw
boards. Generally the weight of upstairs walls should be taken
right down to the ground through corresponding walls beneath.
This acknowledgement of the constant verticality of gravity is also
a factor in the geometry of making. 4 lower floor plan

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: geometr y of a house 77

 Windows and doors are conditioned by the geometry of
making too (left). They fit into the rectangular, brick sized,
openings in the walls. They are constructed from straight
pieces of timber, rectangular in section (above, though win-
dows would not be made like this today). The small panes are
all the same size so that the glass can be cut to a standard
size. Rectangular windows, like doors, are easier to open and
close. The lower windows in the drawing (left) have hinges
down one side. The upper are hinged at the top. The geometry
of making conditions the ways components in buildings are
able to be moved – opened and closed – as well as the ways
in which they are made.
There are other components in the house that follow the
geometry of making too. Some walls and floors are finished
with rectangular clay tiles. Some of the floors downstairs have
parquet – wood blocks, 9" x 2¾" (229mm x 70mm) – laid in
a regular herringbone pattern (below). Blocks are cut where
they meet the walls.
Now measure where you live and draw the ways the
geometry of making has conditioned its form. This is likely to
be the case whatever the construction materials used.

78
G E O M E T R I E S O F B E I N G – regarding the circle

Architecture is an arena in which different sorts of geometry vie for preference. It

is not a battleground, because geometries cannot fight. But together these differ-
ent sorts of geometry present the architect with choice, options as to which should
prevail in a design. Very often, they also involve compromise.
The geometries we have identified so far (we have not yet identified all of
them) in these exercises include:
• the circle of place with its centre;
• the geometry of the world with its four horizontal and two vertical directions;
• the geometry of the person (as a whole, with its four directions...);
• the axis generated by a doorway;
• the geometry of alignment;
• anthropometry (the geometry of the parts and mobility of the person);
• social geometry (the geometry of people together);
• and the geometry of making (relating to the properties of building materi-
als and the consistent force of gravity).
We have two (at least) more kinds of geometry to look at in later exercises: tree
ideal geometry; and complex, layered, morphed, distorted... geometry.
When we analyse a work of architecture we see that these geometries over-
lap and rub up against each other, sometimes conflicting, sometimes resonating,
sometimes appearing to exist in separate realms. It is rare to be able to get all
architecture’s various geometries to work harmoniously together. So a work of
architecture manifests the preferences, the choices made by the architect to give
priority to one or more of them.
With these things in mind, we can now assess the circle as an architectural
plan form. In our recent exercises it has encountered a few problems. It may rep-
resent well the circle of place with its focal centre. It may relate well to the geome-
try of the person with its four horizontal and two vertical directions, and with eyes
in a head that can swivel to survey the world panoramically. The circle may also Masai hunters camp
relate well to the social geometry of people in a group. But we have now seen that
the circle can encounter problems both with the geometry of inhabitation (and the
furniture it might need to accommodate) and with the geometry of making.
Even so, there are some geometries of making that do lend themselves to
a circular plan. It is easy for Masai hunters to create for themselves a protective
circular enclosure of spiky brushwood (right, upper middle). And the native Amer-
ican tipi (right), in which poles leaning against each other in a stable conical form
naturally create a circular space. The Mongolian yurt or ger (below), in which a
flexible lattice of laths naturally forms a circle when bent around to be fixed to the
jambs of the doorway, also creates a habitable circle. (The lattice is concertina-ed
for transportation. Both the tipi and the yurt are weatherproofed with flexible hide
or fabric.)
Despite being from different cultures, these circular habitations have inter-
nal layouts that broadly conform to the spatial syntax of a central hearth (for cook-
ing as well as warmth) with sleeping places arranged around it. They all have an
axial spatial ‘anchor’ too. In the case of the Masai camp, this is a tree. In the yurt native American tipi structure
and tipi it is an altar or shrine. (Compare also the Skara Brae house on page 45.)

shrine

altar

Mongolian yurt structure

* See also Curve, in the Analysing Architecture

Notebook series. Mongolian yurt plan native American tipi plan

GEOMETRIES OF BEING – regarding the circle 79

 WEST

SOUTH

NORTH
doorway axis
E AST
1 2 3

E X E RC I SE 8 e – squaring the circle Compare these rectangular plans with those of the megaron
and of the Sultan’s audience chamber on page 43. There are
similarities and there are differences. Consider both. Weigh up
Now redesign your circular house, taking into account the the subtleties and, using your blocks, try out a few variations for
various kinds of geometry, especially the geometry of making different circumstances, both in terms of content and context. For
example, design one for a single person who needs just one bed
but also allowing for social geometry, anthropometry and the (would you keep the doorway and hearth on the centreline?), or
geometry of movement. for a couple who want to sleep in the same bed. Design one by
a lake and another in a forest or on the summit of a mountain.
The circular house (1) was an accurate intuitive manifes-
My examples have no windows. Where would you put one? How
tation of a circle of place in which to live. It retains a memory would you decide? View? Light? Function? Privacy? There are
of that circle you drew about yourself on the beach. Its central nuances even to the design of an apparently simple house.
hearth was the centre of a small domestic realm insulated
by a wall from the world around, with all its tribulations and The rectangle also seems to mediate more harmoni-
threats. But the furniture did not fit and, taking into account ously between the four aspects of the person and the four
the geometry of making, there are easier, more sensible, ways horizontal directions of the world. Even if the person moves
to build and roof a building (see page 72). around, the four walls provide a constant four-directional
Now rebuild the house in the way that your rectangular datum. The rectangular regularity of the four-sided room is
bricks ‘want’ you to build it and in a way that will be easy to like the rhythmic anchor of a piece of music, around which
roof (with either a flat or pitched roof); i.e. as a rectangle (2). the melody plays.
Though there are issues to think about with regard It would be understandable to orient the house with
to bonding the blocks – so that each rests on two (over a its doorway towards the sun rising in the morning, so that
joint) in the course below – the result is neater and better the light would warm and wake. Then its other walls would
resolved. The furniture, at a size suited to the inhabitants, relate to the north, south and west. Doing this, the rectangular
also fits; there is harmony between the rectangular bed and house becomes a frame that orients the person to the world,
the rectangular room. the horizon and time, the rhythms of day and night. There is
The central hearth, however, does get in the way, so let’s psychological attraction to the way in which the architecture
move it to a fireplace at the far end (3). The inhabitants can of a simple building can situate the person in relation to both
put tables in the corners at the feet of their beds if they wish. space and time.
The doorway is rather exposed too, so let’s add a protecting Incidentally, I’m not sure why the inhabitants of my
porch by extending the parallel side walls. This might make rectangular house are lying on their beds with their heads
a pleasant place to sit in the morning sun or to sleep on a hot towards the doorway. They could equally be the other way,
night. The house is still very basic but it is neater as a rectangle with their heads by the fire. Which would you prefer?
than as a circle. A house with a north facing doorway would feel different
The doorway axis is just as powerful as it was in the from one with its doorway facing south. A house with a west
circular house, if not more so. The interior retains the sym- facing doorway would face the setting, rather than the rising,
metry associated with a doorway axis that project inwards sun... with possible poetic allusions to endings rather than
to the hearth and outwards into the world. beginnings. Choices, choices…

80
1 the tree 2 clearing space 3 a sphere of place

G E O M E T RY – Korowai house A framework of walls and roof, pitched to shed the rain,
is built on the platform (5). These components are constructed
The Korowai people of Western Papua live in houses they of grids of straight pieces of timber too. The geometry of
build high in the trees. These houses are examples of vari- making is similar to that of the shelter I tried to make with
ous kinds of architectural geometry, especially the geometry toothpicks (page 74). Where they touch, tree branches help
of making. provide support and stability.
The erection of such a tree house follows a distinct The walls and roof are clad with leaves to make them
sequence. First the architect-builders choose a tree (1) and water- and wind-proof (6). The floor is laid with unrolled
clear others around to give it space and light. Next they thin sheets of bark, roughly rectangular.
some of the upper branches partly to reduce the amount the The first task when the house is finished is to light a fire
tree rocks in the wind but primarily to make space for the (!) on a flat hearth stone at the centre of the floor, establish-
house amongst the branches (2). Rather than draw a circle ing its occupation and making it a home.
of place on the ground the Korowai establish a sphere of The Korowai tree house is a composition of geometries
place up in the branches of the tree (3). working together: the circle (or sphere) of place, with the
Some branches are trimmed to provide particular hearth at the centre; the anthropometry of the ladder and
support for the platform that forms the floor of the house the dimensions of the house; and principally, the geome-
(4). This platform is horizontal. It establishes the area – the try of making in the construction of a regular framework of
stage – on which the life of the house will take place. It is straight timbers which contrasts with the irregularity of the
made of a grid of straight pieces of timber, laid as regular tree’s branches.
as possible, one layer at right angles on top of the other (fol-
lowing the geometry of making). A precarious ladder, with
A 2011 episode of the BBC series Human Planet suggested that the
widely spaced rungs, links the platform back to the ground. Korowai do not normally build houses so high in the canopy and that
Materials must be carried up the ladder. they had built this one just to please a previous television crew!

4 ladder and platform 5 framework 6 cladding of leaves

GEOMETRY – Korowai house 81

G E O M E T RY – Farnsworth House

The geometry of making does not only condition buildings

built in traditional ways from timber, stone and brick. It exerts
an equally powerful ‘gravitational pull’ in relation to building
in materials such as rolled steel and plate glass. Mies van
der Rohe’s Farnsworth House is a case in point. In its design
the geometry of making is rigorously applied. The result is
an orthogonal (rectangular) building with the accommoda-
tion sandwiched between two parallel planes – floor and
roof. The columns holding these two planes apart are evenly
spaced, supporting long beams that stretch the length of
the house. Between these span the floor and roof beams,
regularly spaced to support the sub-structure (right). The
dimensions of the floor, and the adjacent outdoor platform,
fit an exact number of stone flooring slabs (below).

The Farnsworth House is one of the buildings analysed in Twenty-Five

Buildings Every Architect Should Understand.

82
C L AS S I C FO R M – megaron variations

Through an exploratory process that began with the circle of

place with its centre (focus), and has included the doorway
axis, social geometry and the geometry of making, we have
reached one of the classic forms of architecture. This classic
form is found in buildings all around the world in just about
every human culture. It has many variations (some of which
are shown above in the form of ‘parti’ sketches). Its essential
form is an enclosed space with a doorway, the axis of which
indicates the place of a focus. That focus might be a hearth,
a person, an effigy (of a god), an altar, or maybe another
doorway. The focus can be internal, external or both at the
same time. The doorway’s threshold defines a line of transi-
tion from outside to in and vice versa.
1
The doorway axis is one that can be occupied and
travelled along by the person. In this way, the classic form
can be seen to be an instrument of linkage (between the
person and the focus of attention) and also a route of
aspiration, perhaps through a series of stages punctuated
by doorways (their thresholds).
Here are three of innumerable examples: 1. the Greek
temple; 2. the Islamic (in this case Turkish) mosque; 3. the
Christian church. Each orients the person to: 1. the effigy of
a god, and that to the rising sun; 2. the direction of Mecca
(the centre of faith) indicated by the mihrab doorway in the
qibla wall; and 3. the altar and the east (the direction of the
rising sun).
Notice how there is a reminder of the original circle
of place in the form of the hemispherical dome over the
mosque and the semicircular apse behind the church’s altar.
The idea of the ‘inner sanctum’ is a great deal older 2
than any of these three examples. La Bajoulière, that dol-
men in the Loire valley in France (page 8), is over 5000
years old. Built of huge stones (megaliths), it has a covered
porch leading into a ‘nave’ from which leads a further door-
way into a mysterious inner room.
Other examples of this classic form in the preceding
pages include: Asplund’s Woodland Chapel (Page 33); St
Peter’s and the Pantheon in Rome (page 35); the 3000
year old Tarxien temple on the island of Malta (page 38);
the Temple of Rameses II (page 39); the Christian church
and the ancient Greek megaron (page 43); the Skara Brae
house (page 45); and even the small and ephemeral beach
encampment on page 50.
All illustrate subtle variations on the classic megaron
form. Try to understand the intentions and the consequences
of these variations (as if you were a musical composer
studying a series of variations on a theme or composing in
sonata form). 3

CLASSIC FORM – megaron variations 83

 Corbelling involves
gradually reducing a span
with overlapping courses.
The Tomb of Agamemnon
(left), near the ancient
palace of Mycenae in
Greece, is an example
constructed with stones
shaped to make horizontal
courses. A corbel dome
can be constructed with
roughly flat stones too
(see the example on the
opposite page).
1

E X E RC I SE 8 f – roofing greater spans

Within the limitations of children’s building blocks it is difficult to explore the more
sophisticated ways spaces may be spanned if the materials available are not long
or strong enough to span them in one go. You can, however, experiment. Here are
three fundamentally different ways; each has its historical precedents. All may, to
some extent, be modelled using your blocks.

Corbel structures

The principle of this structure – which is to reduce a span gradually – can be used
2 over circular, square or oval spaces that are too large to be spanned in one go. Here
it is used to put a roof over a square space (1). First one has to span the doorway. If it
is too wide for a single lintel, you can first narrow the span in steps (2); these steps
must be gradual. This is the principle of corbelling. It can be applied to the roof as
a whole. The open space is reduced by spanning across the corners (3). This process
is repeated until the space is covered completely (4–6). Using small or irregular
stones, this process has to be even more gradual than with your building blocks.
It usually results in a conical dome. Corbelling has been used to span some large
spaces, as in the Tomb of Agamemnon at Mycenae, Greece (above), which spans
nearly 15 metres (50'). Each circular course forms a horizontal arch.
Many other examples of corbelling can be found from the ancient, prehistoric
and pre-industrial world. There are examples on the islands of Shetland (e.g. at
Jarlshof) and Orkney (e.g. Skara Brae, Rennibister Earth House). It seems that parts
3
of the ancient temples on Malta (e.g. Tarxien, page 38) were roofed in this way too.
(continued on page 86)

4 5 6

84
The intention is to build a dwelling not merely a structure, so begin Your building will need a doorway too. This provides access and
by making a hearth at the centre of a circle of place. establishes a relationship with the hearth.

Build up the wall with stones, gradually reducing the diameter of Even though the walls overhang the interior they do not collapse.
the circle and making each course as stable as you can. Each layer of stones makes a horizontal arch.

G E O M E T RY O F M A K I N G – corbel dome

There is synergy between materials and the constructions

that may be built with them even if those materials are not
regular in shape. One example is the sort of structure that
may have roofed the Skara Brae houses mentioned on the
previous page and on page 45. This is called a corbel dome,
and it would not be stable if it were not built in concentric
circles of stone… as shown in the drawings. The nature of
the stone available is important. It has to be easily quarried
in flat or flattish slabs. A corbel dome could not be built with
round pebbles or boulders. Even though they may be irregu-
lar, such flat stones can be laid in courses, decreasing grad-
ually in diameter, to close the dome over the space below.
(You can try to do something similar using the slate chip-
pings available in DIY and garden stores, as in my model.
No glue or mortar was used. It is held together by gravity.*)

* A time-lapse of my corbel dome is available on Instagram:

Eventually the dome is complete, leaving a smoke-hole at the top. instagram.com/analysingarchitecture (posted July 2, 2021).

GEOMETRY OF MAKING – corbel dome 85

 1

Columns and beams

Another way of spanning larger spaces is by introducing intermediate columns (1,

2). This reduces spans to suit the lengths and strengths of material available (3).
Secondary structure, and roof or floor coverings, can then be constructed on this
primary structure of columns and beams (4).
This structure has been used since ancient Egypt and before. It is also the
principle of the Mycenaean megaron (above) in which four columns reduce spans
whilst also allowing the hearth to retain its central position. So long as the columns 2

are stable (will not fall over) the peripheral wall is not needed (5), allowing open
spaces amongst the columns.
A structure of columns and beams (posts and lintels) is called trabeated. In
your block models, as in (for example) ancient Greek temples, there is no rigidity to
the joint between the column and the beam, and so their stability depends on the
diameter of the column being adequate to stand firm on its base. In other struc-
tural systems – timber framing, reinforced concrete and steel frame – stability
with thinner elements can be achieved with rigid joints, and maybe braced with
diagonal members. This is the case (without the diagonal bracing) in Mies van der
Rohe’s design for the Farnsworth House (below left and on page 82). 3

The open plan with structure provided by columns is the principle behind
Le Corbusier’s Dom-Ino idea (1918, below middle) which was influential in twen-
tieth century architecture. Such open columned spaces are common in reinforced
concrete and steel framed structures.

In Le Corbusier’s Dom-Ino house,

Though apparently a post and beam reinforced concrete columns provide
structure, the structural stability of Mies the structural support for floors and roof,
van der Rohe’s Farnsworth House leaving space for flexible planning. Its
depends on rigid welded joints between stability too is dependent on rigid joints
the members, and on the posts being between the columns and the concrete
deeply embedded in concrete. floor and roof slabs. 5

86
 1

Arch

It is not possible to build a typical arch with children’s building blocks without
cutting them to the appropriate shapes (above). But you can build a very simple
arch (1, 2), composed of just two ‘stones’ (voussoirs) with a ‘key-stone’. You will find
that the towers at each side (buttresses) provide weight that is needed to stop the
‘arch’ spreading and collapsing. Though this simple arch is not as sophisticated as
the structure of a vaulted cathedral, it does demonstrate the principle on which the
latter is based (below). Cathedral arches and vaults are constructed of many smaller
pieces of stone cut precisely to shape. Notice in the drawing how this cathedral
(Strasbourg) also has those buttresses that prevent the arch from spreading. It
has ‘flying buttresses’ that lean inwards to help prevent the roof vaults collapsing.
It is this dynamic equilibrium that causes some to comment that a post and lintel 2
structure seems ‘dead’ (with the beams just lying lifeless on the columns) while the
arch and vault are ‘alive’ with interactive forces reaching right down to the ground.
The challenges and opportunities of structural design are seductive. Much
architecture through history – from ancient to recent times – is a demonstration
of structural prowess. But it is worth remembering that architecture is, in the first
place, concerned with framing people and their activities. The space spanned by a
succession of arches – with vaulting between – in the grandest cathedral frames
the axial relationship between the worshipper and the altar (3, 4).

See also page 75 of Curve, in the Analysing Architecture Notebook series. 4

EXERCISE 8: geometry of making 87

I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : st r uc t u ra l ge omet r y

slate built house, from north Wales section

In your notebook... find and draw examples of structural

geometry. In the preceding exercise, it has not been possible
to model all the possible variations of structural and con-
structional geometry found in buildings ancient and recent.
Using children’s blocks is too restricting. Study buildings you
visit, and others you see in publications, to understand their
structural order. Do not forget to study also the relationships
between structural order and spatial organisation, as dis-
plan
cussed in the chapter ‘Space and Structure’ in Analysing
Architecture: the Universal Language of Place-Making. Norwegian stave church
Experiment with structural geometry in your own designs too.

Tugendhat House, Brno, Mies van der Rohe, 1931 Salisbury Cathedral

88
long section cross section

The internal dome of Asplund’s Woodland Chapel introduces a

geometry of construction that is in conflict with the roof’s more
traditional geometry of making. Asplund did this for particular
poetic reasons – to create a bright artificial ‘sky’ over his ‘circle
of place in the woods’ (see page 33).

Outside, his chapel appears like a cottage with a sim-

ple hipped roof (below), which also has the appearance of
a pyramid (a Pharaoh’s tomb). Inside, it is an ancient stone
circle under the dome of that artificial sky, which together
frame the social circle of mourners around the dead child
in its coffin on the catafalque. The geometries are not in
natural harmony. There has to be compromise; and Asplund
makes it within the hidden roof structure. You might think of
plan
Asplund’s device as theatrical, in the sense that he contrives
C O N FL I C T I N G E O M E T RY – for a poetic reason an artificial scene within the container of the chapel’s exter-
nal form. As is often the case, such ‘theatrical scenes’ might
Asplund’s Woodland Chapel has been the subject of a pre- (need) not obey the same pragmatic geometries as ordinary
vious observation (regarding the use of the doorway axis of buildings.
penetration and projection, page 33). Now we can look at it Consider for yourself the sometimes competing claims
again and observe one way in which its architect, whilst gen- of the pragmatics of the geometry of making and of poetic
erally submitting to the geometry of making, found himself theatricality. Some critics and theorists might argue that
faced with a conflict in geometries. He resolved these in the architectural ‘truth’ (or perhaps ‘sense’) resides in honest
way that he did for poetic reasons. adherence to the geometry of making. Others might counter
Generally the framework of the chapel’s roof has the that by suggesting that poetic ‘truth’ is a higher aspiration,
three dimensional geometry we would expect in a traditional and that Asplund’s compromise is a stroke of genius. What
timber roof structure. But just as Asplund inserts the circle do you think?
of place – in the form of the circle of columns – into the rec-
tangle of the plan, so he wants to form a dome (cupola) over
that circle, within the roof structure. His symbolism is that of
the sky over a timeless forest clearing where funeral rites
are being performed. Light enters to reflect off the cupola’s
smooth white inner surface from a roof-light at the ridge,
which also establishes contact with the heavens.
The spherical geometry of the cupola does not fit into
the timber framework of the roof; so Asplund has to com-
promise. To find place for its hemispherical form amongst
the roof’s straight-line geometry of making, Asplund ‘cuts
out’ part of the timber roof structure (rather like the Korowai
tribes people cutting out branches high in their tree to find
place for their new house, page 81). His design accommo-
dates a conflict between two different geometries.
The discipline/authority of the roof structure’s geom-
etry of making is contravened for what Asplund clearly saw
as a higher purpose – the poetic symbolism of the place he
designed for the funerals of children. Woodland Chapel, Erik Gunnar Asplund, 1918

CONFLICT IN GEOMETRY – for a poetic reason 89

G E O M E T RY – attitudes Joining, weaving, building, turning... all invoke the
geometry of making. And as soon as you – the architect –
The geometry of making does not impinge on the form of begin to intervene physically, to change the world by build-
places identified merely by choice and occupation (in the ing (rather than just inhabiting) a place, then what you do,
landscape for example). Transforming the canopy of a tree whether as designer (mind) or as designer and builder, is
into a shelter just by sitting under it, or the slope of a sand informed by what you want to achieve and by your attitude to
dune into a seat by sitting on it, or a cave into a house by the geometry of making.
living in it, does not invoke the geometry of making. But as At first, you might be content to lash together some
soon as an architect intervenes physically, changes the rudimentary construction using whatever you have to hand.
world – even if slightly – by constructing something, then the You might, for example, make your seat on the sand dune
influence of the geometry of making comes into play. roughly from found pieces of driftwood. But this is just one
of various attitudes you might adopt towards the geometry
of making. There are alternatives. You might act on the basis
that the geometry of making is:
• merely a condition of building, a factor that has to
be taken into account but no more than necessary
to construct what might be judged a ‘good enough’
structure;
• something analogous to the genetic programme
of building, a conditioning authority that should be
followed in pursuit of constructed form that is per-
fectly, maybe organically, integrated;
• a human (which some consider morally questiona-
The architect who rings the trunk of a tree with a bench ble) imposition on the natural shapes of materials,
has to find a way of making a circle (or perhaps an octagon, and therefore to be resisted;
hexagon, pentagon...) by joining together straight pieces of • an arena for the display of ingenuity, technology,
timber. The architect who walls up the mouth of his cave has skill, daring, prowess...;
to weave wattle from sticks or build stones upon each other • mundane, boring, earthbound... a factor to be tran-
taking into account gravity and the geometry of making suit- scended (for poetic and aesthetic purpose) by
ed to the materials available, fitting that geometry into the invention.
irregular mouth of the cave. Each attitude to the geometry of making is associated
with its own convictions and asserts its own virtues. There is
no one right attitude to the geometry of making. A result of
this plurality is the promiscuity of architecture. It is part of the
reason why a thatched cottage is different from a Rococo
church, a Classical temple different from what has been
termed ‘blobitecture’. The geometry of making is a territory
of wordless philosophy. Attitudes to it stretch along a spec-
trum from submission and obedience to subversion and
transcendence.
Since ancient times we have celebrated our capacity
to achieve constructions that surpass the rudimentary, the
‘good enough’. The further our achievements exceed what
is presumed to be possible, the better we feel they fulfill our
aspiration to transcend the limitations of Nature.

Even the architect who inscribes a circle about herself

in the sand with a stick invokes the geometry of making with
the radius of her pirouette and the point of the stick.

If you managed to raise a ten ton slab of rock onto the tips of three
others stood upright, you too would feel some pride in your human
capacity to achieve, to transcend the limitations of Nature.

90
M I N D – N AT U R E D I A L EC T I C

In architecture, the geometry of making is alternatively seen

as either an arena for the exercise of the mind’s capacity
to do (ingenuity, invention...) or as a rein (an inconvenient
and resented restriction) on its aspirations. The geometry of
making is a field of play on which the designing mind meets
Nature. Left to itself, Nature prevails by the action of its
implacable and mindless properties, processes, forces. The
mind that sets itself to do something (architecture) finds itself
in a contest with Nature; its attempts at action conditioned
by those properties, processes, forces. Put simply, the mind
has three choices: to submit; to strive to overcome; or to
work to find some harmony between its aspirations and the
conditions imposed by Nature. It’s a bit like Hamlet wonder-
ing whether ‘to be or not to be’.

Different attitudes

from Edward S. Morse – Japanese Homes… (1886), 1961.

texture. In the picture a curving branch is used as the corner

of a cubicle, forming half the frame of an oval spy hole. The
result is an intriguing interplay between natural form and the
tendency to the rectangular of the geometry of straight lines.
This has been done not through necessity but by selection
– of a particular branch, the form of which prompts and sat-
isfies the designing mind’s vision – and deliberate intention.
It illustrates the mind’s capacity to use the geometry of mak-
ing as an interface for contemplating a poetic relationship
between itself and the forms of natural things such as trees,
stones, water, light... The branch stands as a representative
of natural irregularity set amongst other materials that have
been ‘de-natured’ by sawing, planing, squaring, smoothing,
polishing. The result is aesthetically pleasing and philosoph-
ically engaging.
Sometimes the geometry of making is presented as
The burial chamber of Maes Howe (above, Orkney) the touchstone of frugality, austerity, piety, adherence to
was built around 2600 BCE. It is classified as ‘prehistoric’, ‘God’s law’… (see next page).
‘primitive’, ‘rudimentary’. Nevertheless it illustrates the inge-
nuity of the mind that conceived it. It has a clear geometry
of making resulting from an interplay between the design-
ing mind (its intention) and the possibilities of the materi-
als available. The mind (the architect) has determined on
a rectangular chamber with a corbelled roof, achieved with
flat slabs of stone laid in fairly regular courses. Maes Howe
was conceived by a mind sensitive to the character and pos-
sibilities of the material available and the physical strength
and skill of the people who built it. It illustrates a harmonious
interplay between the mind (its will and ingenuity) and
Nature (gravity and the character of the material available).
From the rectangular ceiling panels to the tatami mats
on the floor, the rectangular rooms and the framed windows
and shoji screens, the design of a traditional Japanese
The Wine Store in Vauvert, France, by Gilles Peraudin (1998), is
house (top right, and page 75) is governed by the geometry a building built simply according to the geometry of making. It is
of making brought to a high level of discipline and perfec- made mainly of standard sized stone blocks (1050 x 2600 x 520
tion. As a counterpoint, some elements are allowed to retain mm) cut at the quarry. Though bigger and heavier, they are just
their irregular natural form or patterning of natural grain and like your blocks. Their geometry fits with the rectangular plan.

M I N D – N AT U R E D I A L E C T I C 91
 In sixteenth century Istanbul, the Sultan’s architect
Sinan celebrated religious faith and conviction with auda-
cious domes – above is the Süleymaniye Mosque, based
on the Aya Sofya built some twelve hundred years earlier
– stretching the geometry of making as far as (if not beyond
‘ G O D ’ S L AW ’ *
where) his courage and belief in the dependability of struc-
tural integrity would allow. In this building, religious faith is
When Dom Hans van der Laan designed the Abbey of St not expressed by self-denial, simplicity and adherence to
Benedict at Vaals in the Netherlands (above, in the 1960s), the restrictive discipline of the geometry of a simple element
everything – the plan, the section, the shapes of the walls such as a brick. It celebrates the audacity and ingenuity of
and the openings in them, steps... – was subjected to the the designing mind which subjects material to its will. But
discipline of the regular rectangular geometry of the brick. that mind also takes into account and exploits the charac-
ter of the material available (stone) and the force of gravity
(which is the ‘glue’ that holds the shaped stones together in
the forms of the domes). Here the ingenuity and courage of
the mind is not seen as in potential conflict with the will of
Allah (expressed through Nature) but as an instrument of
it. The Süleymaniye celebrates the mind (and the physical
prowess) of the human being as an instrument of God’s will.
And this is expressed through the geometry of making.

The same attitude is apparent in the cells designed for

Louis Kahn’s unbuilt (also 1960s) project for a Dominican
Motherhouse near Philadelphia (above). All is disciplined by
the geometry – the rectangularity and dimensions – of the
blocks from which the walls were to be built. This attitude is
pragmatic – it suggests the attractive idea of ‘building sim-
ply’ – but it too is philosophical. It implies rigour, self-control,
an avoidance (a distaste for) showiness and unnecessary
ornamentation. The discipline of the rectangular unit (the
geometry of making) is seen as a metaphorical equivalent of * See also pages 12–15 of Metaphor, in the Analysing Architecture
the discipline of the nun or monk’s daily regime. Notebook series.

92
S T R E TC H I N G T H E G E O M E T RY O F M A K I N G

The ingenuity of the mind may be celebrated without refer-

ence to a supernatural authority. In the roof over the Great
Court of the British Museum in London (right), Norman
Foster stretched the geometry of making in a different way
from Sinan in the Süleymaniye. He did so literally, by taking a
regular mesh (that would frame the glazed panels) and mor-
phing it (with the help of a computer program) to reconcile
the geometric disparity between the rectangular perimeter
of the court and the circular library (not quite) at its centre.
Stretching the geometry of making requires ingenuity,
effort and the dedication of substantial resources of money,
labour, time... To build simply according to the geometry of
making may be seen as a frugal way of doing things. To
build in grand, complex, audacious ways can be seen as
an expression of worship, faith, sacrifice. It can also be an
expression of status, grandiosity, self-importance on the part
of the person or institution that commits those resources.
The fan-vaulted ceiling of King’s College Chapel in
Cambridge (below) is an intricate example of how far the
Though from different periods of history, the glass roof over the
geometry of making can be stretched. Even though it is
courtyard of the British Museum in London (above) and the fan
pragmatically redundant – there is a timber-structured roof vaulted ceiling of King’s College Chapel, Cambridge (below),
above it to keep out the weather – in its ingenuity, beauty share a delight in stretching the geometry of making for aesthetic
and commitment of resources, it is expression of the col- effect… and as a demonstration of the ingenuity of the human
lege’s wealth, status, taste, aspirations and connections. mind and its technological prowess.

STRETCHING THE GEOMETRY OF MAKING 93

D I S R EG A R D I N G T H E G E O M E T RY O F M A K I N G

Some buildings manifest, on purpose, a disregard for the geometry of making;

their architects refuse to accept that it might hold authority over what they do. In
some cases architects and their patrons have felt that the geometry of making
should be considered not so much as a condition of building to be followed, nor
as an ingredient of a poetic interplay between regularity and natural form, nor
stretched as far as ingenuity may achieve... but as a condition to be considered
mundane, lowly, to be disparaged as unworthy or demeaning and which an archi-
tect should transcend, rise above.
Adhering to the apparent authority of the geometry of making is cheaper,
easier, perhaps more sensible. Ignoring it in favour of other shapes is expensive,
difficult and risky. It is because of this that ignoring the geometry of making is
attractive. It can produce sensational results that defy the spectator’s sense of
‘sense’. And some patrons want the sensational rather than sense. The sensa-
tional inspires awe and grabs attention.
Awe and attention can be as important to religion as frugality and simplicity.
And the former can be acquired by ignoring the authority of geometry of making
rather than submitting to it. The Rococo churches built in central Europe in the
eighteenth century are examples. To the right is a drawing of a typically ornate
Rococo pulpit. Though (obviously) it must hold together and not collapse, nothing
about its form adheres to the geometry of making. It is designed to be extrava-
gant, inspiring worshippers with awe at the power and wealth of the church, and
‘entertaining’ them with sensational shows and dynamic compositions of saints,
star bursts and other golden embellishments.
The geometry of making might also be disregarded for amusement, as in a
fairground ‘House that Jack Built’, or to attract attention, as in the Krzywy Domek
(Crooked House, below).
Rococo design (right) ignores overt
expression of the geometry of making in
favour of aesthetic and dramatic effect.

This (left) is the Krzywy Domek (Crooked

House) in Poland, by Szotynscy Zaleski,
built in 2004. By distorting the geometry of
what would otherwise be a fairly ordinary
building, Zaleski has made it into a tourist
attraction. It would not be so attention-
grabbing if its geometry were orthogonal.

E XCAVAT I O N

There is a way of creating places in which the geometry of

living/sleeping making can be disregarded. The internal forms of natural
kitchen/ place caves are irregular, formed by geological forces and hydro-
wood store logical erosion. Since primitive times we have made places
in and adjacent to natural caves. We have also extended
caves and excavated new ones.
There are parts of the world where geology allows
human (or, for that matter, animal) excavation of space – for
homes, tombs, shrines… Carving space out of solid rock
(preferable soft rock) means that the geometric restrictions
of having to build with components – blocks of stone, bricks,
lengths of timber… – are irrelevant. Rooms can be made
living place small or large and, allowing for the geometry of human form
(doorway place) and movement, may be just about any shape.
On the left is the plan of a small troglodyte dwelling in
the Anatolian region of Cappadocia (in Turkey). It was exca-
vated out of the soft natural rock. Its spaces could be further
extended without regard to the geometry of making.

Living spaces carved out of natural rock do not have to follow the
geometry of making. See also Curve, in the Analysing Architecture Notebook series.

94
S E N S AT I O N A L D I S TO R T I O N

Ingenuity has its secular as well as religious manifestations.

So does sensationalism. Producing something sensational
is an effective device in advertising cities as well as products.
When Frank Gehry produced the Guggenheim Museum
in Bilbao, Spain, in the 1990s it transformed the fortunes of a
struggling city by attracting millions of visitors to admire the
building’s sensational form.
That form is a product of distortion. It is as if one of
your block models had been photographically distorted.
To build the original block model was easy. But to build the
distorted version would require a great deal of time both to
determine the shape each block should be, then to form
them, and finally to construct it.
The curved titanium cladding of the Guggenheim is
a distortion of the rectangular geometry of making (which
requires a complicated steel structure to underpin it). It rep-
resents a commitment on the part of the city and national
Spanish authorities to expend resources with the aim of
attracting attention.
Varying attitudes to the geometry of making contrib-
ute to the promiscuity of architectural form. But attention
drawn to form in this sense, whether simple and sensible
or sensational and risky, can be attention drawn away from
the person as ingredient of architecture. The architect of the
Guggenheim in Bilbao is not acting as servant, nurse, pol- Computer software makes it easy to conjure up an infinite variety
itician, philosopher... making a considerate frame (physical of distorted geometry. Building them is not so easy; construction
too depends on sophisticated software and manufacturing. The
and abstract) to accommodate the person. He is acting as
forms that computer programmes can help to generate can be
impresario, showman, gymnast, adman... making a show beautiful and evoke the complex shapes of natural creations
to impress, to astonish rather than frame the person. From and processes: rolling hills; shells; spider webs; wisps of mist;
being the main ingredient of architecture, the person is cast murmurations of starlings; hydrological flows and the shapes
in the role of an astonished spectator. running water carves from rock…

S E N S AT I O N A L D I S T O R T I O N 95
1 2 3

E X E RC I SE 8g – transcending the geometry of making

It will require time and effort but if you wish you can attempt to build with your
blocks a form that in some way transcends the geometry of making. You can aim These few examples illustrate what you
for ingenuity, amusement or sensationalism. might try with the somewhat intractable
geometry of your building blocks. Imagine
You might start by seeing what you could do using the blocks as they are: and try out what you can do with more
putting them together in more complex or irregular (even random) ways (1 and malleable materials – plasticine, clay,
kneadable rubber or dough… – and
2); trying to build something that looks implausible or impossible (3); making a materials that may be cast into complex
complex shape appear as if it has been carved from or moulded in a single block forms – plaster of Paris, cement mortar,
latex… – or that might appear to defy
of material (maybe by plastering over the blocks, 4); perhaps composing them in
gravity – helium filled balloons, gossamer,
forms intended to represent something such as a dog (or is it a camel? 5); or using diaphanous silk… Try modelling places
specially shaped standard blocks (6) to ‘add interest’! Architects, at one time and excavated from solid matter too, using soft
stone (tufa, chalk…), wood, florists’ foam…
place or another, have tried all these approaches to achieving buildings they hope (And then there’s 3d-printing…)
others will judge to be sensational. The geometry of making does not
represent the seemingly simple moral
But if you want to achieve sensational form then you will have to put time and
authority that it might appear to. (I’m
effort into reshaping the blocks or using other materials that are more mouldable sorry, but thinking as an architect is not
into irregular or curved shapes, and conjure structural systems that might more as straightforward or rational as you
might expect or like it to be.) The amount
readily appear to be able to defy gravity. that you allow the geometry of making to
You can see in these compositions too that attention has moved away from condition what you design is a matter of
judgement, ideology, philosophy; one that
making a frame for inhabitation into a fascination with what can be called sculp-
involves aspiration and an understanding
tural form – three-dimensional shapes that might look good in photographs and of resources, as well as a sense of what
to people as spectators but maybe do not pay sufficient attention to the spatial might be appropriate.

subtleties of the role of architecture as the universal language of place-making. In

seeking attention, do not forget that simplicity and directness (as well as subtlety)
in framing human life and experience has its virtues too.

4 5 6

96
I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : at t it ude s to
t he ge omet r y of ma k i ng
In your notebook... find and draw examples that illustrate different attitudes to the
geometry of making. In the third decade of the twenty first century you can do this
by picking up any edition of a contemporary journal on architecture.
As I was first writing this, the latest copy of the British journal Building
Design (Friday, April 15, 2011) fell through my letter box. On page 4 is an illustration
of The Architecture Research Unit’s proposal for a ‘folly’ for the Gwangju Design
Biennale to be held in Korea. One photograph shows the concept model which,
like the models you have made in these exercises, was built of wooden blocks,
except that in this case the blocks are not standard but cut specially. Nevertheless
the composition adheres to the rectangular/orthogonal geometry of making. The
accompanying article says the final building will be made of concrete, in situ. Its
rectangular form will suit the geometry of making of the formwork for moulding
the concrete too. It seems, however, that the architects specified that ‘joints’ be
indicated in the surface of the folly, to suggest that it had not been moulded from
a single material but was composed of a collection of L-shaped panels. At first their
attitude to the geometry of making seems simple; but with analysis it becomes more
complex, blending apparent honesty of construction with artful deceit.
On page 17 of the same edition of Building Design a very different attitude
to the geometry of making is illustrated in the Chalabi Architects’ design for the
Darmstadtium in Germany (below). Their attitude is one of distortion made possible
by the use of computer-based building information modelling (BIM, an article on The Architecture Research Unit’s ‘folly’ for
Gwangju in China (2010) has three parts:
which this building is used to illustrate). a stepped base; an aedicule containing
Later in the same edition (on pages 20–24) David Chipperfield’s design for the an altar; and a lantern. On top is a box
for magpies. It appears to adhere to the
then new Turner Contemporary gallery in Margate (right) is shown in photographs
geometry of making.
and drawings. In this building the geometry of making is followed as scrupulously
as possible. The geometry is evident externally in the regular matrix of the frame-
work holding the glass cladding. But internally the geometry of this framework is
largely hidden by the finishes to walls and ceilings, with the constructional grid
evident only in the wall and roof glazing.
Attitudes to the geometry of making are subject to argument. Some might
argue that clear expression of honest straightforward construction, disciplined by
the geometry of making, possesses a quality akin to moral rectitude and that this
influences its aesthetic appreciation. Others might argue that construction (the
geometry of making) is something to be transcended in architecture – i.e. the aim
should be to astonish with form that defies expectation and even credibility. Yet
others might argue that the sort of distortion evident in the Darmstadtium is a
morally questionable (and expensive) indulgence. You will have to decide on your
own attitude to the geometry of making. The cladding on David Chipperfield’s
Turner Contemporary gallery in Margate
(2011) scrupulously follows the geometry
of making essential to construction
systems.

The constructional geometry of the

Darmstadtium in Darmstadt (2011, left)
is a great deal more complex.

See also the first section of Curve, in the

Analysing Architecture Notebook series.

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: at titudes to the geometr y of making 97

E X ERCISE 9: ge omet r y of pla n n i ng
The geometry of making, as we have Bees solve the problem by mor- Squares tessellate just as well as
already seen, inf luences the shapes phing circles into hexagons. A hive’s hexagons…
of rooms and spaces. It suggests that cells are small circular cylinders packed
rooms be rectangular, with parallel tightly together with their sides pressed
opposite walls, to make them easier up against each other for an efficient
to build. Standard rectangular bricks use of space.
build most easily into flat, vertical, rec-
tangular walls with regular horizontal
courses. They also readily fit right-
angled corners. Together with the ease
of making floors and roofs by spanning
regular sized beams between parallel
walls, the geometry of making predis-
poses the architect (who wants to make
life easy) to make rooms rectangular.
In this exercise you will begin to … but they have the advantage of being
look at, and appreciate, how rectangular able to be juxtaposed in more flexible
rooms and spaces also make planning ways producing rectangles of different
simpler. It is easier to build rooms next Bees access their cells through sizes. Try your own arrangements.
to each other, sharing party walls, if the top and, except perhaps in wax,
those rooms are rectangular. It is easier hexagons are not easy to lay out or roof.
to combine rooms and spaces into plans They work together best if they are all
that are more complex if those rooms the same size. But our domestic circles
and spaces are rectangular rather than of place tend not to be the same; some
irregular. This is the state to which are small, others large; so we need an
sense tends; though that does not nec- economical approach to planning space
essarily mean it is always the most apt that also allows the creation of spaces/
response to a given brief (program). places/rooms of different sizes.

E X E RC I SE 9 a – squares, rectangles

Houses are manifestations of domestic

circles of place… Give those rectangles doorways…; you
have the plan of a many-roomed palace:

… but circles do not tessellate well.

Redundant gaps are produced. Circular In his short story ‘The Library of Babel’
houses do not share walls easily. They Jorge Luis Borges described just one floor
of the eponymous library as a seemingly
tend to stand separate from each other, infinite tessellation of hexagons. His
which is not economical with space. description does not work architecturally.
This is my best attempt. (See also page
(But see also the African village on page 188 of Ten Most Influential Buildings:
102 for possibilities on open land.) Architecture’s Archetypes.)

98
E X E RC I SE 9 b – parallel walls

In Exercise 8c (page 72) we saw that one of the basic reasons

for the rectangular plan was that it provided a pair of parallel
walls for the support of floor beams and roof trusses. Another
advantage is that it also allows rooms or houses to be put next
to each other economically (in terms of both the use of space
and construction).

axonometric

plan

Using your blocks, compare the difficulties of placing The parallel wall strategy is the organising principle of row housing
circular houses adjacent to each other with the advantages of in cities around the world. These drawings, for example, show the
layout of typical traditional shop-houses found in Malaysia and
arranging rectangular houses in rows between parallel walls. Singapore. Each house is accommodated between two parallel
You can see that, in parallel wall houses, one party wall will walls, with small interior courtyards for ventilation and light. The
parallel wall arrangement allows many houses to be arranged side
provide half the support needed for the floors and roofs of two by side, sharing party walls.
houses. Also there is no wasted space. And houses may have
a public face and a private rear, maybe with a yard or garden
also defined by parallel walls.

section

Parallel walls constitute the underlying planning principle of

plan
terraced houses. The principle was discovered thousands of years
ago, and has been used in many urban cultures across the world.
A similar strategy was used by the Indian architect Charles Correa
when he designed this lost-cost house. Having parallel side walls
See also the chapter on ‘Parallel Walls’ in Analysing Architecture: the without windows means that it could be repeated side-by-side,
Universal Language of Place-Making. sharing party walls, almost indefinitely with no wasted space.

EXERCISE 9: geometry of planning 99

E X E RC I SE 9 c – multi-room buildings

It is also easier to plan houses with many rooms if those rooms

are rectangular. With your blocks plan a simple three- or
four-room single floor house.
You could subdivide a larger rectangular enclosure of
walls in a symmetrical way...

The rooms of this eighteenth-century house in Scotland (The

House of Dun by William Adam, 1743) are contained and
symmetrically arranged within a simple rectangle…
... or compose a less constrained arrangement of rectangular
rooms:

In either case, the process of composition is made easier

if the rooms are rectangular.
Notice too that there is, in all the plans on this and the
opposite page, a hierarchical arrangement of the rooms, with
one (in domestic terms the hall, marked A in each of the plans)
acting as distributor to the others. In language, standard sen-
tences run from capital letter to full-stop, in one direction. In
architecture, spatial ‘sentences’ can split, taking the person … whereas those in this semi-detached house (analysed in terms
into a variety of different directions and narratives. (Of course of the geometry of making on pages 76–7) are composed in an
irregular but nevertheless orthogonal way.
some novelists have tried this in books too; e.g. Italo Calvino’s In both, the rectangularity of the rooms serves not only the
If On A Winter’s Night A Traveller…, 1979, 1981). geometry of making but also the geometry of planning.

100
 Your composition might take a doorway axis as its
datum, with rooms mirrored either side…

A
A

… or maybe around two axes projecting inwards to a centre

and outwards across the world:

The rooms of Palladio’s Villa Rotonda (sixteenth century), near

Vicenza in Italy, are contained in concentric squares and arranged
symmetrically around two axes that cross at right angles. Notice
too how the circular central space is reconciled with the otherwise
general rectangularity of the plan.

In this case subsidiary rooms are created in the corners

of the rectangle, which would not be possible with a circle.
Again, the process is made easier if all the component rooms
are rectangular and they fit within a rectangular perimeter.
Consider how a person’s experience of a plan organised
symmetrically around an axis might differ from a plan that
is irregular, even when both are composed of rectangular
rooms.*
Consider too the intention and contribution of the
architect in each case. Is the doorway axis of a simple cell (a
hut or temple) the same in its origin and effects as that of a
symmetrical multi-roomed plan? How much might the latter
be a product of drawing rather than personal experience of
space (i.e. about relationship with a doorway)? By contrast, although this plan (Alvar Aalto’s summerhouse on
Muuratsalo, 1953) is arranged according to the ideal geometry of
the square as well as the geometry of making (with bricks), its plan
* See also Exercise 11 on pages 133–4. is asymmetrical. (See also page 103.)

EXERCISE 9: geometry of planning 101

E X E RC I SE 9 d – relations with places open to the sky

On page 80 I mentioned that the geometry of making and the way it tends to make
buildings and spaces rectangular also eases relationships with external spaces. The
porch area in the model (right), for example, seems to fit more comfortably into the
geometry of the building as a whole than some of our attempts to create doorway
places related to the circular house (page 47–8). And on page 99 we saw that the
geometry of parallel walls, which makes construction more straightforward, also
allows buildings to be juxtaposed in rows or terraces in a way that economises on the
use of space/land. That same arrangement lends itself comfortably to the making of
streets (below), with an access pathway between terraces – an arrangement that of
course would not be possible, at least in any comfortable way, with circular houses.

street

This African village is an example of the spatial interest possible

by juxtaposing circles of place – internal and external. The houses
come together as a larger circle of place – the community as a
whole, with its hierarchy of central and peripheral courtyards. The
architects of this village, however, had the advantage of an open
landscape. Its geometry is constrained only by social/familial
geometry; not by urban constriction.
There are other situations in which the geometries of
being (social geometry, geometry of making etc.) play their
parts in the relationships between buildings’ insides and
their outside. Even in non-orthogonal settlements, where the
over-riding geometry is social – and houses may even be cir-
cular (as in the African village, middle right) – arrangements
enclose and define open spaces which are large doorway places
shared in common; and which are where much of life is lived.
In this more orthogonal traditional Bali house (right)
the open space between the pavilion-like house-rooms is
vital to the way it accommodates life too. The houses, for an
extended family, are arranged like armchairs around a rug in
a British living room. Being a warm climate, much life here
is lived outside in the courtyard. (Notice also the arrange-
ment of the entrance into this walled family compound, at ‘a’. a

Compare it with the doorway places illustrated in Exercise 4.) Bali house

102
 With your blocks, explore some orthogonal arrangements Compare my attempts on this page with the plans of
that combine internal and external spaces in meaningful some of the buildings illustrated elsewhere in this book and
relationships. Internal spaces will be rooms; external might in Analysing Architecture. Think about their relationships
be gardens or courtyards… with the internal world of a courtyard and the world outside.
If you can incorporate in-between spaces – e.g. door-
way places, verandahs, walkways… – in your arrangements,
so much the better. These will add to the subtlety of your
planning. Like a good story-teller, imagine the sorts of
inhabitation that will occur in the various internal, external
and in-between spaces you create.

open to
the sky

area open
open to the sky to the sky

Here an enclosed courtyard, open to the sky, is defined on two In this arrangement a sequence of spaces, internal and open to
sides by rooms. Imagine different heights – e.g. above eye-level the sky, start at an entrance and stretch right through to the other
and below – for the courtyard wall, and consider the effect on its end, with rooms arranged around them. None of the rooms around
character and relationship with the greater outside. Think about have any view to the greater world outside but the arrangement
how you would feel in this courtyard if you could, or could not, see creates a narrative thread leading you through the building from
out. Might the height of that wall depend on what is outside? start to culmination, like in a sentence.

roofed area

glass walls
open to the sky

open to the sky

This tiny courtyard (above) is completely embedded in the centre

of the building, with rooms around, all with doorways into it. It
becomes a datum place, by which you know where you are.
In the plan to the right, the interface between a courtyard and
rooms around is defined by a roof edge and glass walls between Visually, the house – courtyard and peripheral rooms – may be
columns, changing the relationship between inside and out. read as a single space, with places flowing one into another.

EXERCISE 9: geometry of planning 103

I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : enclosed places open to the sky
Collect and, as always, draw in plan (sections would be good examples elsewhere in this book. Here are some more. In each
too) some examples in which architects have combined case think about how the space open to the sky contributes to
internal places with enclosed places open to the sky. Keep the spatial organisation/planning of the building and what it
an eye out for in-between places too. There are a number of offers in terms of phenomenological experience.

The city of Bursa in Turkey is laid out in a traditional combination of bazaars and khans – In the heat of Crete, the Minoans provided
narrow streets lined with shops and businesses and large open courtyards also lined with the Palace of Minos, Knossos, with small
shops and shaded by trees. The bazaars form routes and the khans offer pleasant places courtyards – light wells – open to the sky
to sit. Though not precise, all is made possible by the orthogonal geometry of planning. to provide both light and ventilation. (See
Note the prevalence of parallel walls dividing small commercial premises. also page 106.)

Drawing sections is particularly useful to show the places within a Above is a section through another building built right up against
plan that are open to the sky. Here are two examples of buildings Mdina’s town wall (again to the left in the drawing) but facing north
in the old city of Mdina, once the capital of the island of Malta in rather than east. In this building the courtyard, open to the sky, is
the Mediterranean. The town is built on a hill near the centre of the main place. It is now occupied by a restaurant – the Fontanella
the island. The drawing above is a section through a large house Tea Garden – with shaded tables at different levels within and
which is now a hotel – the Xara Palace. The house was built right around the courtyard. Those on top of the wall also have extensive
up against the town’s fortified wall (to the left in the drawing) within views across the island.
which some of the rooms have elevated and extensive views to the Both these buildings fit into the general orthogonality of the
east towards the present capital Valletta and the sea beyond. To town’s planning, though that is often modified due to topography
bring light and air into the centre of the building, it is provided with and the need to fit in with other buildings. The hotel (left) is
a small but beautiful courtyard once open to the sky but now fitted accessed from a small square, while the cafe (above) is entered
with a transparent roof. from the street at the right of the section.

104
 section (plan below)

Monasteries (and their architectural relatives, Oxbridge colleges)

are usually arranged around enclosed places – cloisters (quads)
– open to the sky. These provide sheltered and quiet places,
insulated from the world around yet open to the heavens, ideal for
contemplation as well as secluded gentle exercise. In the case of
monasteries, cloisters offer a sunny place in contrast to the more
mysterious and sometimes gloomy interior of the church. The plan
above is of the monastery of Le Thoronet* in southern France,
which influenced Le Corbusier when he built the monastery of La Places open to the sky need not be at ground level. The
Tourette near Lyon. You might like to contrast the plans of the two Solo House (2013, above) at Matarraña, Spain, by Pezo von
buildings, and analyse the roles of places open to the sky in each. Ellrichshausen, has an enclosed courtyard open to the sky on
Le Corbusier’s ‘cloister’ is very different to that at Le Thoronet. its top level. It gives privacy to those using the swimming pool.

b
c

Chris Loyn’s Outhouse, in the Forest of Dean (2016), is built

around the footprints of three existing buildings (a, b, c). Previously
* You can read an architect’s fictionalised account of the twelfth-century
roofed, two of these are now tiny courtyards open to sky, making foundation and building of Le Thoronet in: Fernand Pouillon – Les pierres
small enclosed places that contrast with the main living spaces of sauvages, 1964; trans. Edward Gillott as The Stones of Le Thoronet, 1970.
the house, which are open to the surrounding landscape. See also Lucien Hervé – Architecture of Truth, 1957.

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: enc losed plac es open to the sk y 105

H A R M O N Y O F T H E R EC TA N G L E ‘As soon as we have learned to experience ourselves
and ourselves alone as the center of this space, whose
We can now understand why so many buildings across the coordinates intersect in us, we have found the precious
world have been, are, and will continue to be rectangular in kernel, the initial capital investment so to speak, on which
architectural creation is based – even if for the moment it
plan. The rectangle is in accord with geometries of being
seems no more impressive than a lucky penny.’
relevant to architecture. The rectangle can also bring those August Schmarsow – ‘The Essence of Architectural Creation’ (1893), 1994.
disparate geometries into a harmonious relationship. (The
musical analogy implied by that word ‘harmonious’ is inten-
tional. Rectangles can harmonise with each other spatially WEST
like notes in a chord…)
The rectangular is in accord with:
• the geometry of the person: front, back, right and
left (with each person at their own centre);
• the geometry of our perception of the world (sun-
rise, noon, sunset, in relation to our own innate
geometry): north, east, south and west;
• the doorway axis (to which our eyes are essential);

NORTH
establishing a dynamic line of sight (parallel to the

SOUTH
side walls of a rectangular plan) and a line of pas-
sage culminating in a focus (hearth, altar, throne…);
• the geometry of making: rectangular building blocks
tend to make rectangular spaces; and it is easy and
sensible to span roof structures between parallel
walls;
• the geometry of furniture, itself often governed by
the geometry of making and of use;
• social geometries: people sitting around a table or
facing a speaker; although not round, a square may
also accommodate the social circle;
• the geometry of planning, tessellating rooms and
spaces of various sizes (and harmonic proportions) E AST
in ways that patch neatly together.
Because it brings these various geometries of being
into harmony, the rectangle has been used in architecture
since ancient times. It is as amenable today as it has always
been. The rectangle is the governing principle underlying
buildings as diverse as:

A small open mud house in The Palace of Minos on the An English cathedral (Lincoln, Thermal Baths, Peter Zumthor,
Kerala, India (timeless). island of Crete (c. 1500 BCE). 12th–14thCs CE). Vals, Switzerland (1996).

Countless other examples could have been used. The (It is the ubiquity of the rectangle in architecture of all times
majority of examples you choose to record in your notebook and most places that makes that sheet of squared paper
for other reasons will be in accord in some way with the har- so useful as an underlay in your notebook. It is as useful in
mony of the rectangle. designing as in analysing the work of other architects.)

106
M O D I F Y I N G T H E R EC TA N G L E

For the reasons stated opposite, it might be said that the

rectangle is the norm in planning buildings; it is, in effect, the
‘default setting’ for architecture. Deviating from this default
setting is one of the great themes of architecture through the
ages. Just as music that obediently follows a steady beat
and a major key can be tedious, so too may architecture that
adheres rigidly to the orthogonal. Interest may come from
interplay and conflict (syncopation and discord) rather than
predictable resolution… just as in a joke’s punchline.
There are various ways of, and reasons for, modifying
the default setting of the rectangular. These might be char-
acterised under the headings ‘responsive’ and ‘wilful’. (Nei-
ther heading is intended here to imply any moral or value
judgement, though sometimes they have been and continue
to be associated with ideological battles.) These headings
are linked to the attitudinal dimensions discussed in Analys-
ing Architecture: the Universal Language of Place-Making
under the chapter title ‘Temples and Cottages’. ‘Responsive’
reasons for modifying the rectangular are those that derive
from responding to conditions. ‘Wilful’ reasons are those
that derive from the architect’s desire to impose an extrane-
ous idea. It is not always easy to unravel one from the other.
It is always a matter of the (designing) mind’s relationship
with the world in which it intervenes (through architecture).
The dimensions that stretch between the responsive and the
wilful have affected architecture through all history.
Here are some examples of site affecting geometry.
The Mycenaean builders of the Palace of Tiryns (right, c. 1400
BCE) applied the rectangular geometries of making and planning
across the usable area of a hilltop in what is now the Peloponnese
in modern Greece. In one special place – the megaron, the heart
of the palace – they also employed the power of the doorway
axis. But when they met the edges of that usable plateau, where
the slopes became too steep, those rectangular geometries gave
way to the irregularities of the land. The interplay between the
rectangular and irregular give the plan its interest.

In the early 1990s a consortium of architects called Group ‘91

designed a series of interventions to regenerate the Temple Bar
district of Dublin. Part of this regeneration created a new public
space called ‘Meeting House Square’ (above). In itself, the square Some of the Roman houses in Pompeii (above) had to fit their
is rectangular. But where its bounding buildings meet the edges regular geometry into irregular sites. The irregularities were
of their sites or hit up against irregular existing buildings, their hidden away in less important rooms while the main spaces were
rectangular geometries of making and planning have to give way. arranged about an axis originating in the doorway. In this way the
Again, spatial interest derives from that interplay. primary experience of the house was as orthogonal and axial.

M O D I F Y I N G T H E R E C TA N G L E 107
M O D I F Y I N G T H E R EC TA N G L E continued

The Hôtel de Beauvais in Paris was designed by Antoine le Hans Scharoun distorted the geometries of making and planning
Pautre in the seventeenth century. Like the Pompeii house on in the Schminke House (1933) to relate spaces to sun and views.
the previous page, it occupies what was an irregular site between
rue François-Miron and rue de Jouy. But by projecting an axis
perpendicular to the mid point of the elevation to rue François-
Miron, le Pautre conspired to make the visitor feel they were
entering an axially symmetrical building.

Hugo Häring designed this unbuilt house (1946) with slight regard
for the geometries of making and planning. Only in the bedrooms
is there some semblance of fitting the rooms to the rectangular
beds. His aim, like that of Scharoun, might be said to free the
person from the ‘tyranny’ of the rectangle and axis.

The early nineteenth century British architect John Soane packed

many axially symmetrical spaces into the irregular site of the Bank
of England in London. To provide light and air, some are open to
the sky.

Something similar happens in Geoffrey Bawa’s house in Colombo, The geometry of Alvar Aalto’s Säynätsalo Town Hall (1951)
Sri Lanka (1962). The narrowing of the site is hidden in the smaller is adapted to topography and broken to respond to the line of
rooms along the edge of the plan. approach and to avoid any sense of a formal axial entrance.

108
M O D I F Y I N G T H E R EC TA N G L E continued

In his Villa Snellman (1918) the Swedish architect Erik Gunnar

Asplund (who also designed the Woodland Chapel – see pages
33 and 89 – around the same time) distorted the geometries of
making and planning for visual effect. This is the upstairs plan.
The landing narrows to exaggerate perspective; from the top
of the stairs the landing appears longer than it is and from the
bathroom door, shorter. One room, off the landing, has its corners
rounded with timber panelling to make it more womb-like. The
rectangularity of other rooms is distorted too. Most of the odd,
‘left-over’, spaces are made into cupboards or stairs. (Compare
with Palladio’s Villa Rotonda on page 101!)

Aalto’s distortion of geometries in his studio in Helsinki is partly a

response to the wedge shaped site but it also creates an external
room like an amphitheatre, complete with rudimentary tiers of
seating in the grass, oriented towards a wall that could be used
for screening movies.

When David Chipperfield designed the Wilson and Gough Gallery

in 1989 he was, like le Pautre (Hôtel de Beauvais, opposite),
presented with an odd-shaped ‘infill’ site. Rather than giving the
irregular space an axis and symmetry he ordered and organised it
with a straight wall. In counterpoint with the irregularity of the site,
this produces different spaces.

Although in some circumstances it may be possible to adhere

closely to the geometry of making – as in that garden shed (page
75) – often compromise is necessary… which can lead to interest.

In all the above examples (excepting the shed), deviation

from the geometries of making and planning are not merely
Aldo van Eyck gave each of the residential apartments at the graphic exercises. They are either responses to irregular
back of the Mothers’ (Hubertus) House in Amsterdam (1978) an conditions or aim to affect the experience of the person. In
individual character by distorting the parallel wall strategy. This
some the aim is to persuade the person that, despite the
example illustrates how party walls might be amended to avoid
mere repetition. Notice how the walls between the apartments at
irregularity of the site, they are in a regular, ordered, axial
the back of the Mothers House have curved sections – convex one place. In others the aim is to free the person from the axial
side and concave the other – adding individuality to each of the and the rectangular and offer different kinds of spatial
living spaces. experience.

M O D I F Y I N G T H E R E C TA N G L E 109
I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : mod i f y i ng ge omet r y
In your notebook... find and draw examples in which archi-
tectural geometry has been modified. This may be because
of site conditions – in the natural landscape or in a built
environment – patterns of use and inhabitation, or some
other consideration. It may affect the geometry of making,
the geometry of planning, the parallel wall strategy… Think
carefully about why the plans you have drawn deviate from
the orthogonal, and note down your observations.
You might, for example, randomly pick up a journal and
see what you find. Here are a couple of examples I found, when section
writing the first edition of these exercises, in the February
2011 edition of the British journal Architecture Today. It
contained an article on recent house designs in the UK. The
two houses illustrated here demonstrate the vogue for playing
with the geometries of making and planning, their distortion,
and the different relationship with space that may result.

upper floor

upper level

lower floor

The Dune House, in Thorpeness, Suffolk (by Jarmund/Vigsnæs

Architects, 2012), is on two floors. The lower floor is reminiscent
of Mies van der Rohe’s Farnsworth House (see page 82 and
lower level Twenty-Five Buildings Every Architect Should Understand): it is
orthogonal, with glass walls all around and a solid core containing
Ty Hedfan (Flying, Floating, Hovering House) by Featherstone accommodation not to be seen. The upper floor presents a stark
Young in mid-Wales, is in two parts. The main part, on two upper contrast. Though contained within a rectangle, it is divided by
levels, is orthogonal while the guest part (built into the ground) to diagonal walls creating irregular rooms. There are four bedrooms,
the left in the plans above, is irregular, illustrating something of each containing a bed and a bath, with en suite shower rooms.
the freedom from the geometry of making offered by excavation The upper floor is irregular in section too (top). It seems that the
(see page 94). But even in the orthogonal part there are areas that architects wanted to pose questions about how space might be
deviate from the geometry of making. managed architecturally to make places in contrasting ways.

110
 The Temple of Ammon and the Telesterion
are both hypostyle halls. In both, a
structural strategy for roofing large areas
also produces mysterious spaces that
might be used for ritual performances –
‘Mysteries’.

Temple of Ammon Telesterion 1

E X E RC I SE 9 e – columned spaces/free plan

In Exercise 8f (page 84) you explored ways of spanning larger spaces. One of
these was to insert intermediate columns within the space to support a roof or
floor structure. Columned spaces have been built since ancient times. Above left
is the plan of the hypostyle hall of the Temple of Ammon in Karnak, Egypt, which
dates from around 1400 BCE. Above middle is the Telesterion at Eleusis in Greece
(sixth century BCE). These spaces retained their perimeter walls. Their structure
2
was based on the idea that beams could span between relatively closely spaced
columns (1). In the twentieth century, when stronger and more integrated structural
materials than stone became available, architects began making spaces unbounded
by structural perimeter walls. We have seen on page 86 that Le Corbusier’s 1918
idea of the Dom-Ino House form (2) was a clear and influential expression of this
simple but effective architectural idea.
You can explore the ramifications of this revolutionary idea with your build-
ing blocks. The circle of place from which all architecture begins is overlaid by a
rectangular grid, related to the spanning capabilities of available materials, which
determines the positions of the columns (3). This produces a ‘forest’ of columns,
which in ancient times was associated with mystery and ritual performance.
The strength and integrity (the ability to make strong joints) of modern
materials – reinforced concrete and steel – made larger spans possible, with big- 3
ger spaces between slimmer columns. It also suggested a new way of organising
space in which columns cope with the structure of the roof, while the space may
be subdivided by partitions that do not carry structural load (4). The result is an
interplay between the columns and the partitions that adds to the language of
architecture and its possibilities. It enables the architect to make spaces that are
different in character from those bounded by load-bearing perimeter and internal
walls. In his influential 1926 manifesto ‘Cinque points de l’architecture moderne’
(‘Five points towards a new architecture’) Le Corbusier termed this approach ‘le
plan libre’ (the free plan).
(continued on next page)

See also the chapter on ‘Hypostyle’ in The Ten Most Influential Buildings in History: Architecture’s
Archetypes. 4

EXERCISE 9: geometry of planning 111

E X E RC I SE 9 e continued Compare this kind of space (above) with that of the
‘classic form’ identified on page 83. It is not screened/isolated
Start with your circle of place drawn on your board (1). from the outside world. It has no doorway, and hence has no
Arrange columns to support a notional roof over the circle. doorway axis. It is a space without a single dynamic direction
Due to the geometry of making, this has the effect of making or focus. It is a space within which to wander – a loose and
the circle rectangular (2). Arrange some partition walls inde- open labyrinth. Its spatial organisation is largely free from
pendent of this columned structure (3). Notice that because the restrictions of wall-related structural order.
the notional roof is supported by the columns, your partition This idea underlies one of the seminal buildings of the
walls are free to be positioned independently of the columns. twentieth century: Mies van der Rohe’s Barcelona Pavilion,
They may be under the roof or, just as possible, not. 1929 (bottom right)… which you can attempt to model.

1 2 3

Barcelona Pavilion

See also Twenty-Five Buildings Every Architect Should Understand.

112
I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : ‘ f re e’ pla n
In your notebook... find and draw examples of the ‘free’ plan, This strategy allows the walls to be positioned freely
where supporting floors and roofs with columns (reinforced across the territory of the podium, both under and outside
concrete or steel) frees walls of their load-bearing role and the roof… though Mies does decide to follow the notion that
produces open rather than enclosed spaces. they should be arranged orthogonally – parallel or at right
You could start with two of the seminal buildings from angles to each other – but not always touching and certainly
around 1930 that established this spatial idea in architecture: not creating fully enclosed rooms.
Mies van der Rohe’s Barcelona Pavilion (below, already men- Though Mies seems to have drawn upon the ancient
tioned opposite) and Le Corbusier’s Villa Savoye (next page). Greek temple or megaron as the model for the architecture
(Both are included as case studies in Twenty-Five Buildings of the Barcelona Pavilion, he does so in ways that rebel
Every Architecture Should Understand.) against its ancient assumed authority. He breaks open the
The Barcelona Pavilion notionally begins with eight enclosed cell and creates a simple labyrinth rather than an
slim steel cruciform columns supporting a flat roof plane axially symmetrical plan generated by a doorway and focus.
(dotted) over a stone-clad podium (below left). This creates This is a building in which to wander rather than follow a
the territory of the pavilion, clearly defined in the same way clear direction. In the drawing below you can see how Mies
as a classical Greek temple by its platform – which lifts it purposefully places one of the walls right across the axis that
above the everyday world around. The difference here how- already existed on the site, created by the steps up the hill and
ever is that the ‘inside’ of the ‘temple’ – under the roof – is an existing row of columns (now gone).
no longer enclosed by walls to create a cella screened from its There are some more examples of the ‘free’ plan on the
surroundings (and protecting the god within). following two pages.

the ‘temple’ the labyrinth, made possible by the ‘free’ plan

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: ‘ free’ plan 113

The walls of Le Corbusier’s Villa Savoye (this is the ground floor) axis onto a ramped route that takes them up onto the main living
are independent of the load-bearing structural concrete columns. floor. Notice how Le Corbusier lets some columns avoid the strict
The doorway (arrowed) is on the central axis of the gridded plan discipline of the structural grid, e.g. to leave space for the central
but as soon as the person enters they are diverted from that entrance axis and the ramp.

In his unbuilt project for a Fifty-by-Fifty-Foot House, Mies reduced Some of Aalto’s Villa Mairea has masonry walls. Other parts have
the roof-supporting structure to four slim steel columns situated at structural columns. The Library (bottom right in the drawing) is
the mid-point of each of the square’s sides. defined by screens of bookcases which play no structural role.

Rem Koolhaas was influenced by Le Corbusier but took some and his engineer devised a way of making the top floor appear
of his ideas to surreal levels. The middle floor of his Maison à to float over space. (The Maison à Bordeaux is a case study in
Bordeaux seems almost totally without any structure. Koolhaas Twenty-Five Buildings Every Architect Should Understand.)

114
The most frequent use of the free plan is in office buildings. This The first elements of inhabitation are screens and other pieces of
is the floor plan of the GEG Mail Order House built in Kamen, furniture such as filing cabinets and clothes racks that are used
West Germany, in the early 1960s. It is a large open space to define places as well as being used as work stations. These
punctuated by structural columns widely spaced on a simple grid. act like the windbreaks people sometime erect on the beach to
Only lavatories and storerooms, which could not be left open, are define their own ‘homes’ for their day by the sea. Just like those
in enclosed rooms. The rest is like an open landscape, a ‘beach’ windbreaks, the office furniture may be moved in response to
waiting for inhabitation. varying needs for space.

The screens and other pieces of furniture define the territories for Pathways thread their ways between the different territories,
the desks of work groups. There are also places, with large tables, giving access to each. The resultant layout is very like a beach
for conferences and discussion. Some territories are allocated for on a busy summer’s day. Architecture has created its own
relaxation. Notice how the columns do play a part in how territories formalised artificial landscape. (It is known by the German term
are laid out. They cannot just disappear in the way the notion of a ‘bürolandschaft’ – office landscape.) Social geometry is evident in
‘free’ plan might suggest. They must be incorporated in the layout the layouts of seats, tables, desks. It is also like a nascent urban
in relation to places and to routes. Notice too that different places community growing from small settlements. Nowadays layouts of
have different characters. You can choose where you might like to call centres tend to be more geometrically ordered than this. See
sit to answer the telephone all day. the drawing on page 69.

Now find some examples of ‘free’ plans for yourself. They Also in your notebook, begin to explore some of the
do not need to be all of the sort where there is just a loose ideas you find – spatial/structural ideas – in ‘parti’ sketches.
forest of columns supporting a roof, though those will be the These are ideas you might develop in your next design
easiest to spot. But also look out for more subtle examples, challenge. Remember that architecture and music can be
as in the case of the Villa Mairea and the Maison à Bordeaux comparable. Composers play with the relationship between
on the opposite page. You are seeking examples where the melody (movement) and beat (structure) in music. You can
architect has found ways to deviate from the strict authority ‘play’ with movement, structure and settlement in architec-
of structural walls enclosing rooms screened off from the rest ture. The ‘free’ plan is a design strategy full of possibilities…
of the world to create more fluid relationships between people, But do remember that you are designing for the experience,
their movement and settlement, and structure. hopefully commodious, of people.

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: ‘ free’ plan 115

E X ERCISE 10: ide a l ge omet r y
In the preceding exercises we have explored the influences In this sense nine is a two-dimensional number. Draw
of various kinds of geometry in architecture. But the one you this 3 x 3 square on your board. In laying out this square we
might have first thought of as ‘geometry’ comes last. This is shall take into account the centre, the dynamic of architec-
mathematical geometry, the sort you learnt in school lessons tural space, and the geometry of making.
or when you doodled patterns with a ruler, compasses, pro- Mark the centre of the board. Outline the 3 x 3 square
tractor... It is the geometry of perfect circles, squares, spheres, with the centre of one of its sides at the centre of the board,
cubes... This is an abstract form of geometry distinguishable and use the length of one of your blocks as a module.
from the existential forms of geometry (the geometries of
being) of the previous exercises (the circle of place; the door-
way axis; the geometry of making, planning etc.). To give
it its own name, in Analysing Architecture: the Universal
Language of Place-Making this abstract kind of geometry is
termed ‘ideal geometry’.
Whereas the natural home of the geometries of being is
out in the world – in the characteristics of materials (bricks,
blocks, straight lengths of timber…) and in our bodily form,
movement, social congregation… – the home of ideal geom-
etry is in the abstract realm of the surface of a flat sheet of
paper or the cyberspace of a computer program… or even
just in the mind (where perhaps it finds its purist form). The
fact that ideal geometry is not quite of this world adds to its
mystique, especially for architects. To make a building as a
perfect cube, despite there being no pragmatic or experiential
reason for doing so, lends it a quality perceived by the mind as
transcendent. It seems to give it the incontrovertible authority
of the perfect, the ideal.

E X E RC I SE 10 a – a (perfectly) square space

Like 4, 16, 25, 100…, 9 is a ‘square’ number – 3 x 3. It can be You can see that the square recalls some of the ideas
expressed graphically as a square divided into nine equal we have encountered previously in these exercises, i.e. the
smaller squares. generation of its own centre and axes that resonate with the
four-cornered geometry of the world of the board on which
you are going to build. It resonates too with the innately
cruciform geometry of the human body, lying supine with
arms outstretched. But with ideal geometry the direction of
concern is different.

116
 Now build a wall around this square, just one block high. E X E RC I SE 10 b – extending the square
You might build this wall in three different positions: with
the square at its outer face; with the square at its inner face; In Exercise 8 we added a porch to protect the doorway.
or with the square at its mid point all the way around. Each According to the geometry of making we just added a couple
would produce a square enclosure but for this exercise build of blocks to the length of the side walls. But if we accept the
it with the square at the inner face of the wall. authority of ideal geometry, then we need to determine a
different reason for the lengths of the extrapolated portions
of side wall needed to make a porch.
There are various ways we might extend the square
using ideal geometry. First we might extend the square by a
third, one extra line of smaller squares. This would produce
a 3 x 4 rectangle. And since we used the length of a block as
a module, it would also be in accord with the geometry of
making. We might, however, judge that it would produce a
porch that was not deep enough.

You have been helped in this by the fact that your blocks
have likely been made as multiples of whole modules. (Here
the blocks I have used are 1:1:2.) And because you have used
the length of one of your blocks as a module, on two of the
sides of your square enclosure the joints of the blocks should
align with the lines of the smaller squares. Now you have a
square enclosed space. But your person would not be able to
enter it except by climbing over the wall. So open a doorway.
You could occupy the centre with a hearth too. Second, we might extend the square by a half or even a
whole extra 3 x 3 square, producing 2 x 3 and 1 x 2 rectangles
respectively.

Now we have a building identical in plan to the house we

redesigned (from the circular house) in Exercise 8 in response
to the geometry of making. But, significantly we have come
to it by a different conceptual route. The house in Exercise 8
derived from the circle of place modified to take into account
the tendency of the geometry of making to the rectangular.
The house we have just built took its plan form from the idea
of the ideal geometry of the perfect square. Even though the
result is the same, the ideas behind the two houses are differ-
ent. This conceptual difference becomes more evident and its
influence becomes apparent as we try to develop the design.

E XERCISE 10: ideal geometr y 117

 But we might think these were rather predictable and So how can you choose which to use? The Golden Section
dull and look for more interesting ways of using a mathemat- rectangle seems special and interesting, it has properties you
ical method to extend the square. might think of a magical and mysterious, so try using it for
So, third, we might try taking the diagonal of the square your house.
as a radius and describe an arc to cut the extended side. Extend the side walls, as best you can, to the ends of the
Golden Section rectangle you have constructed on your board.
The smaller squares also indicate where you might position
columns to give additional support to your roof structure.

This produces a √2 rectangle (because the diagonal of

a square is the square root of 2).
Or, fourth, we could take the mid point of one side of the
square as a centre and again describe an arc from an opposite
corner until it cuts the extended side.

This produces a Golden Section rectangle because, as Now you have a porch which, discounting the thicknesses
shown on page 139 of Analysing Architecture: the Universal of the walls, is, theoretically, a Golden Section rectangle too,
Language of Place-Making, its proportions are self-replicat- just like the house of which it is part. In your mind at least you
ing. (If you remove the square from a Golden Section rectan- can feel that you have produced a mathematically ordained
gle, the remaining portion is a Golden Section rectangle too.) harmonic relationship between the proportions of the porch
All these methods of extending the square by means of and those of the house as a whole.
ideal (mathematical) geometry produce extensions (porches) You are asked to extend your walls ‘as best you can’
of different depths. because you will find that your blocks do not exactly fit the
extra length required by the Golden Section rectangle. To
follow its ideal geometry exactly you would have to modify the
sizes of some of your blocks (even though they are themselves
in accord with ideal geometry). You would have to swap the
authority of the geometry of making for that of ideal geometry.
You will doubtless already have been affected by the seductive
fascination of ideal geometry as a means by which to make
decisions about the dimensions and arrangements of elements
in architecture, so you may well feel this modification of the
geometry of making is a price worth paying.

118
E X E RC I SE 10 c – cube

We do not need to be content with playing games with ideal

geometry in two dimensions. Architecture is (at least) three
dimensional. (The fourth is time, but we shall come to that
later.) The 3 x 3 square may be elevated into three-dimensions
by multiplying by three again: 3 x 3 x 3 = 27. Now you have
a cube.
Build a cube in two ways. In both you will encounter
discrepancies caused by slight variations in the sizes of your
blocks. First, use blocks that are themselves cubes; three by
three (above). This is a solid cube. But if you tried to build it
bigger it would probably become somewhat unstable because
of the vertical joints; i.e. with no bond (overlap).
Second, build a bigger cube, this time fitting inside the
3 x 3 square on your board (above right), leaving space inside.
Bond the blocks into a stronger wall by overlapping them each
course. Use the 1:2 blocks. Depending on how many you have,
you might also need to use some 0.5:2 blocks, as I did. Notice
that although externally (notwithstanding the discrepancies
caused by variations in the sizes of the blocks) you have built
a cube, the space inside is not.
Now rebuild the walls of your house from Exercise
10b. Make them higher, until the space inside is three units
(likely to be 6 courses) high (right). Now you have a cubic
space inside; whilst its external dimensions, not including
the portico, are 4 x 4 x 3.
You will probably be amazed at how high the walls seem
in relation to the square floor. But you have no choice but
to follow the rule you have accepted – that of the cube. You
have pledged obedience to ideal geometry in the belief that
it will produce a space that can be intellectually (or perhaps
musically, or even ethically) identified as ‘right’ (harmonic) or
aesthetically perceived as beautiful. You have ceded your will
to a ‘higher power’ – that of mathematical (ideal) geometry.

E XERCISE 10: ideal geometr y 119

E X E RC I SE 10 d – problems with ideal geometry

But in abdicating your own power of decision to that of math-

ematics (ideal geometry), you have not (as you might have
wished) escaped problems associated with uncertainty. And
these problems derive primarily from the intrusion of the
thicknesses of materials into a geometry that would like its
boundaries to have no thickness at all.
For example. You may have decided the extent of your
porch by applying the Golden Section rectangle to the plan
but the plan of your porch is not a Golden Section rectangle,
not just because the blocks are not quite the right size but
also because the thickness of the wall between it and the
inner room intrudes into it. You might respond by suggesting These are problems in the two dimensional plan; they
that this party wall could be positioned straddling the line... do not include the additional problems that occur when you
draw the plan upwards into three dimensions. When you con-
trive to enclose a space that is cubic, the form of the building
enclosing that space is not a cube; the ground (your board)
accounts for one of the thicknesses of the enclosing fabric. You
could of course lift the building onto a podium of the same
thickness as the walls:

... but then neither the porch nor the inner room would have
ideal geometry – the inner room would no longer have a
square plan. You could extend the porch a little further (by
the thickness of the wall) so that its plan becomes a Golden
Section rectangle:

But then again, you might wish you had never started
playing with ideal geometry at all! Maybe it is the road to hell
rather than heaven. (A preoccupation with ideal geometry
and the aspiration to perfection can also draw attention away
from considering the person and their possessions, activities,
experiences...)
Alternatively, you might see the quest for ideal geometry
as a game worth playing; perhaps because it gives you a crutch,
something to lean on, a system by which to make decisions.
But then the plan of the whole (the inner room plus Perhaps you feel it makes your plans look well-ordered; or
porch) would no longer be a Golden Section rectangle and your that, when presenting your work to others (your clients or
aspirations to harmony would be lost. All these problems are critics), it lends your work a credibility, an intellectual rigour
caused by the thickness of walls! Perfect geometry is not easy (however spurious that might or might not be) that attracts
(maybe impossible) to achieve in physical form. or demands respect.

120
PRO B L E M S O F T H I C K N E S S Divide the square into its nine component squares,
using lines of the same thickness. Let’s say the drawing is
Start with the 3 x 3 square. Increase the thickness of the very magnified and lines are two pixels thick, so that in a
lines of the square (as if they were walls drawn in plan). computer drawing we could not really get the lines to be any
thinner. This is like the plan of a nine-roomed building with
no doorways, and a double pixel is equivalent to the thick-
ness of a brick wall.

Yes, the lines are not quite straight and the square
probably not quite perfectly square. But we have another
problem too. Where exactly is the square?

Does the extent of the square stretch to the outer edges Now the problem of the definition of the square is com-
of the lines, is it contained by the inner edges of the lines, pounded. We can mark in the centre lines of the lines. It
or is it defined by the centre lines of the lines (dashed in the appears that we have nine equal squares making one big
drawing)? (This problem afflicts ball games: in football the square, but is that really the case? We have one central
thickness of the line is inside the field of play while in rugby it square which remains square whether you define it by the
is outside; in tennis a ball may merely touch the very outside inner, outer or centre lines of its bounding lines. But, whether
of the line and still be counted ‘in’.) This problem afflicts the at the corners or in the middle of each side, definition of the
definition of an ideal geometric figure (square, circle, Golden squares becomes more problematic. (See the drawings on
rectangle...) however thin the lines may be. the following page.)

PROBLEMS OF THICKNESS 121

 PRO B L E M S O F T H I C K N E S S continued

They do not match the centre lines of the lines defining

the smaller squares. We begin to see that we do not have a
big square composed simply of nine equal smaller squares.
We have something more complex instead.
This problem arises when trying to compose buildings
according to ideal geometry. It can also be a reason why it is
often difficult to identify, by analysis, which ideal geometric
figures an architect has used in composing a building and
how they have determined dimensions and relationships.

The only way to approach (achieve?) the sought-for

ideal is to eliminate the thickness of the lines completely. So
the square disappears… and we are left to imagine it in its
immaculate perfection!

Now measure along the outer edges of the big square,

dividing them as exactly as you can into three. Join these
third points across the square.

The same problem afflicts computer graphics too. For example:

in the above drawing we have two squares on the left, each 34 x
34 pixels. But if we try to make a double square to match (on the
right) we don’t get 34 x 68 but 34 x 70 because the excised line
was 2 pixels thick. Aaargh!

122
 9 S Q UA R E G R I D H O U S E

The Japanese architect, Shigeru Ban, has designed a house

based on a 3 x 3 square in which the thickness of walls can
be made to disappear. It is the 9 Square Grid House, built
in Japan in 1997 (left, in axonometric and plan). The house
has partitions that may be moved (on rails) out of the way
into slots in the walls. The two glazed end walls may also be
pushed aside opening the house to the outside. The parti-
tions may be positioned to divide the space in various ways.
With the space completely open, the bathroom and kitchen
fittings and the bed stand open to the whole house and the
world. Partitions may be positioned to provide privacy as
required. Various spatial arrangements are possible (within
the limitations of the grid) according to circumstances.
Even so, the geometry of the space does not avoid
the problem of wall thickness. Space has to be allocated
between the subsidiary squares for the rails on which the
partitions run. Rails are not needed along the side walls
(which house storage cupboards) so the basic space of the
9 Square Grid House is not perfectly square. Also, because
of their own thickness, the partitions when extended do not
create a perfectly straight wall but one that is stepped.
Perhaps Shigeru Ban was not obsessive about achiev-
ing geometric perfection. The idea of the 9 Square Grid
House seems to allude to the traditional Japanese house
(below) with its sliding screens that may be pushed aside
to make open spaces and to open rooms to the outside.
The geometry of spaces in the traditional Japanese house
avoids the problem of thickness by concentrating on making
the spaces between walls a whole number of mats, each of
which is a double square. These mats are called ‘tatami’. An
eight tatami room is therefore square whereas a six tatami
room will be a 4 x 3 rectangle.

Architecture depends on ideas. Sometimes, quite often in fact, The geometry of traditional Japanese architecture is perhaps not
architects resort to ideas that involve or depend on geometry of so much about aspiring to (the impossibility of) perfect geometry
one type or another. At first sight, Shigeru Ban’s 9 Square House but about achieving a spatial harmony akin to musical harmony.
seems to derive its idea from ideal geometry. It appears to follow By ordering rooms according to the tatami mat they might all be
the approach of our preceding exercise by starting with a grid of different sizes but also in harmony because of the shared unit of
nine squares. This is then developed by exploring ways to make size. Notice that the walls do not intrude into and therefore do not
the spatial arrangement flexible by the use of retractable walls: disrupt the geometric pattern of the mats. The walls, and their
with the option of being completely open or divided into rooms timber structure, follow their own geometry which, of course has
comprising one or a number of the grid squares. In this the design to accommodate the various arrangements of mats exactly. (See
seems influenced by traditional Japanese precedent (right). also the Mongyo-tei on page 126.)

9 SQUARE GRID HOUSE 123

FAS C I N AT I N G G E O M E T RY 1

Despite its ultimate unachievability in real (architectural)

form, the quest to produce design derived from ideal geom-
etry has fascinated architects through history, from at least
the time of the pyramids to the present.
Cesariano (in 1521, see also page 5) was one of a
number of sixteenth-century Renaissance architects to pub-
lish translations of and commentaries on The Ten Books on
Architecture (1stC BCE) by the Roman architect Vitruvius. On
the right is one of Cesariano’s illustrations. The top three dia-
grams complement Vitruvius’s account (in Book 9) of Plato’s
explanation of how to double the area of a square using
graphic geometry.
The fascination of these diagrams lies in their demon-
stration that drawing, using a ruler and a pair of compasses
(the tools of the trade – the ‘ magic wands’ – of an architect),
can be used to produce intriguing results that appear to
reveal geometry as a basis of creation.
Briefly, the diagrams show that the area of a square
can be doubled by dividing it diagonally into triangular quar-
ters and then folding those quarters outwards to create a
larger square double the area of the original. The appar-
ent magic, though, is that the same result can be achieved
by drawing a circle about the square and constructing a
new square with its sides as tangents (below right). This
seems to suggest a mysterious, even mystical, relationship
between the square and the circle; the circle being an instru- The diagram top right in the above page illustrates Vitruvius’s
ment of transformation. account of Plato’s explanation of how to double a square by
It is understandable that architects might want to know geometry. Briefly, the method involves dividing a square (ABDC
about, experiment with, develop and use this seemingly above) diagonally into quarters, then ‘folding out’ those quarters to
mystical basis for creativity. The sixteenth-century architect, create a larger square (FHKG) twice the area of the original. The
Andrea Palladio was supported by Daniele Barbaro, who geometric ‘magic’ of this is that you can generate the same larger
square by placing the point of a pair of compasses at the centre of
published his own translation and commentary of Vitruvius
the original square to describe a circle from its corners. This can
in 1567 but without Cesariano’s diagram. Even so, Palladio be repeated ad infinitum, progressively doubling and redoubling
seems to have been influenced by that earlier diagram when the area to produce a series of concentric circles and squares
geometrically constructing his plan for the Villa Rotonda in emanating from a centre – the place of ‘Man’(?). I have redrawn
the late 1560s, on a series of concentric circles and squares the diagram in my notebook below, including the circles.
around a centre (below).

124
section

plan

FAS C I N AT I N G G E O M E T RY 2

The Temple of the Four Winds was designed by Sir John

Vanbrugh some 150 years after Palladio’s Villa Rotonda. It
stands on a prominence in the grounds of Castle Howard
in Yorkshire. The influence of the earlier building is clear:
both have faces and axes projecting the building’s presence
(and that of its occupant) outwards to the ‘four corners of the
earth’. But perhaps their similarity actually derives from a
shared source – that diagram by Cesariano (opposite). You
can see, middle right, that it fits the plan exactly. The sec-
tion too (top) is conceived on a number of squares (cubes).
Notice how Vanbrugh achieves a cubic space inside and a
cubic form outside (despite the problem of wall thicknesses)
by providing the interior with exaggerated coving culminat-
ing in the dome. Notice too that the section fits another of
Cesariano’s drawings: that illustrating his version of Vitruvian
Man (top right).
The building is a ‘cat’s cradle’ of ideal geometry, only
some of which is illustrated here. You can explore more of it
for yourself, and perhaps design a contemporary equivalent.
You will find some more analyses of the ideal geometry of this building on
On the right I have explored the essentially cubic ‘genetics’ the @analysingarchitecture Instagram page, between June 25 and July 16,
of the design using many small cubic building blocks. 2021.

FA S C I N AT I N G G E O M E T R Y 125
FAS C I N AT I N G G E O M E T RY 3 Ludwig Wittgenstein is best known as a philosopher
in words. But, as a philosopher in space, he also designed
Some architects have recognised the issues associated a house – Kundmanngasse – for his sister in Vienna. The
with ideal geometry and used it in more subtle ways. house was built in the mid-1920s.
The Mongyo-tei is an early twentieth-century tea pavil- Wittgenstein was also a philosopher of mathemat-
ion in the stroll garden of Hakusasonsu Villa in Kyoto, Japan. ics. He indulged his interest in geometry in the planning
Its design, here shown in plan (below) blends the geometry of Kundmanngasse. As you can see from the plan below it
of making with two layers of ideal geometry. The construc- appears to be a composition of squares and rectangles of
tional and structural elements of the building follow a square various mathematical proportions. I have tried to identify
grid, which can be seen in the diagram below. But the tea some of these in the diagram (bottom). But you can also
space itself follows its own square geometry, independent see that Wittgenstein was aware of the problem of wall
of that grid, determined by the traditional size of the tatami thicknesses. Sometimes the sides (dimensions) of the
mats on the floor. These are generally double squares, so geometric figures are on the inside faces of walls, some-
they can be arranged to make different sized rooms. Here times on the outside, and sometimes a mixture. It seems
four tatami mats are arranged around a square hearth, that Wittgenstein wanted his plan to be in accord with ideal
which may also be covered by a half mat. geometry, but in complex rather than obvious ways.

Mongyo-tei, plan Kundmanngasse, plan

See also Analysing Architecture: the Universal Language of Place-Making,

pp. 156 and 208.

126
I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : ide a l ge omet r y
In your notebook... find and draw examples of buildings that Other examples you will have to analyse more carefully.
have been designed according to the ideal geometry of the In doing this you will find it useful to make yourself a trans-
square, cube, √2 rectangle, Golden Section rectangle, and parent diagram (on tracing paper, acetate or a transparent
other geometric figures and proportional rectangles. image file) of the principal rectangles used:
Some examples are very easy to spot. Shinichi Ogawa’s
A B C D X E
Cubist House in Yamaguchi, Japan (1990) is, as its name
suggests, a glass cube, square in section and plan (below).

J I H G Y F

This diagram combines the chief mathematically pro-

portioned rectangles to which architects tend to resort:
ACHJ is a square; its diagonal produces…
ADGJ, which is a √2 rectangle;
BCHI is the original square halved; its diagonal
produces…
AEFJ, which is a Golden Section rectangle;
section ABIJ and BCHI are also both double squares.
You could include a 3 x 2 rectangle too – AXYJ (indicated
by the vertical dotted line X—Y in the diagram).
Mark in the diagonals of the various rectangles. These
will be useful. You can overlay your transparent diagram on
plans you find in journals and books. The diagonals will tell
you if you have found an example in which the architect has
used one of these rectangles in laying out their work.
Your aim in doing this is to find which architects have
used ideal geometry and those who have not, and, in the cases
of those who have, to discover how they played the game. You
might also wish to muse on the benefits that have accrued to
them by using ideal geometry as a way of making decisions
about the positions, proportions and dimensions of parts
of their buildings and maybe those buildings’ relationships
with their sites.
Ask yourself too whether ideal geometry could be con-
sidered ‘a game’ to each particular architect… or whether they
plan
used it for serious philosophical, poetic or even mystical/
spiritual intent. This, of course, may not be so easy to answer;
but it might lead you into considering your own attitude to
Some images of the Cubist House can be found at:
shinichiogawa.com/cubist-house/ (April 2022). using ideal geometry when designing.

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: ideal geometr y 127

 You will find, for example, that, however much you adjust Louis Kahn’s Esherick House is another of the studies in
the geometric diagram over the plan of the Farnsworth House Twenty-Five Buildings Every Architect Should Understand.
(below), it is difficult to find any but illusory correspondences. This is a building in which it appears the architect has used
It seems that Mies van der Rohe did not use ideal geometry. ideal geometry to determine the proportions:

section

Mies was more interested in following different sources

for his proportions. You can if you look, for instance, find
relationships between the proportions of the Farnsworth
House and those of a particular ancient Greek temple – that
of Aphaia at Aegina (below). Also, it seems he was more inter-
ested in the authority of the geometry of making – expressed
for example in the whole number of stone slabs on the floors
of the platforms.

plan

You can see that the diagonal of the √2 rectangle in

your diagram coincides with the diagonal of the plan of the
house. Kahn used ideal geometry in designing the section of
the house too (top), but not in a simple way. He seems to have
overlaid geometries, using rectangles with different mathe-
matical proportions to help decide the positions of elements.
The result – as can be seen in a more detailed analysis
provided in Twenty-Five Buildings Every Architect Should
The Farnsworth House is one of the case studies in Understand – is a complex matrix of layered geometries, a
Twenty-Five Buildings Every Architect Should Understand ‘cat’s cradle’ or even a tangle. To continue the musical analogy
(2015). You will find more there on Mies’s attitude to geometry referred to elsewhere in these exercises, it is as if Kahn wanted
and the ways in which he lent his buildings a genetic integrity to orchestrate complex chords in which different proportions
derived from factors other than ideal geometry. You might also overlaid each other in harmonic and dissonant ways. You
like to examine the plans of other Mies van der Rohe buildings, might not be conscious of this silent spatial ‘music’ when in
to get a clearer understanding of his general attitude to using the house, but perhaps Kahn thought it provided the spaces
the different kinds of architectural geometry. with a subtle and affecting ambience.

128
 It is not only in the twentieth century that ideal geome- Palladio’s Villa Rotonda (sixteenth century) is square in
try has been used in designing architecture. As a device it is plan too, though its doorway axes are oriented at 45º to the
literally as old as the pyramids, and architects have resorted cardinal points of the compass.
to it throughout history. Ideal geometry in architecture is not
only a crutch that helps in making decisions about the sizes,
proportions and positions of elements. It is often believed to
possess spiritual, mystical or aesthetic properties that make
architecture more special.

The circle of place of the person is central to the com-

position but the ideal geometry of the building associates the
human being at its centre with the idea of perfection. It also
alludes to the belief, as illustrated in Leonardo da Vinci’s
famous version of Vitruvian Man (below, different from that
of Cesariano on page 125), that the form of the perfect human
being was ordered according to ideal geometry too.

Egyptian pyramids were square in plan not only because

they formalised the circle of place around the last resting
places of the Pharaohs entombed within, but also because
the perfection of the square, elevated in the ideal geometric
form of a pyramid, seemed in accord with the ‘perfect’ state
of death as well as the status of the Pharaoh. Pyramids were
oriented axially to the four points of our compass because each
direction seemed to possess its own meaning and together
with the vertical axis mundi tied the tombs into the inherent
geometry of the world/universe.

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: ideal geometr y 129

 The temples of ancient Greece appear to have been imperceptible swelling of the column shaft); the apparent
designed according to ideal geometry for aesthetic reasons, depression of a temple base (by making it gently convex); the
i.e. because it made them more harmonious visually, more apparent widening towards the top of a temple with perfectly
beautiful. But the geometry of these building is so subtle it vertical sides (by making those sides slope gently inwards);
is often difficult to determine exactly how it was used. The etc. These distortions or refinements are thought to have
elevation of this small temple seems, for example, to have been done for aesthetic reasons – to make the temple appear
been designed according to the square and perhaps the √2 more geometrically precise, more beautiful. They add a subtle
rectangle, but not in an obvious or simplistic way. nuance to (prompt intriguing questions about) the use of ideal
geometry in architecture: if ideal geometry offers a formula
for beauty in buildings then why should it need refinement?
Maybe ideal geometry is no more than a seductive game for
the architect, a system that helps in making decisions about
proportions, relationships and dimensions, but which offers
no clear benefit to the person who will experience it.
Architects have used ideal geometry for thousands of
years. In the sixteenth century it seems that Michelangelo
used the geometry of the square and the Golden Section
rectangle as the basis for his design for the square-in-plan
vestibule of the Laurentian Library in Florence.

And the front of the Parthenon may be interpreted as

having been designed according to the Golden Section rec-
tangle, but again not in an obvious or simplistic way.*

A B

D E C

section

You may read elsewhere (in A.W. Lawrence, Greek It is likely that ideal geometry informed Michelangelo’s
Architecture, pages 169–75, for example) of the subtle ways decisions about positions and relationships in many more
in which Greek architects gently curved or distorted some ways too. His aim was to achieve an integrated composition
elements of the geometry of their temples to counter optical in which all the parts came together in a whole greater than
illusions such as: the apparent ‘waisting’ of columns with their sum, like a well-orchestrated piece of music. This aim
straight sides (countered by means of entasis – an almost remains an attractive aspiration for architects, even when
using styles other than the classical. Experiment for yourself;
find ways that you can use geometry to achieve integrity (and
* See also page 154 of Analysing Architecture: the Universal Language of
Place-Making. perhaps its opposite) in your own work.

130
S PH E R E

The sphere is a form you cannot make

with your blocks. It is an ideal geomet-
ric form, a Platonic solid and, as such,
an attractive proposition for realisation
in architectural form. It is the circle of
presence made three-dimensional.
The Pantheon (top right) was
built in Rome in the early second cen-
tury CE.
The huge Newton Cenotaph
(middle) was designed by Étienne-
Louis Boullée in the late eighteenth
century in honour of Sir Isaac Newton,
but never built.
The Hayden Planetarium (bottom)
was built in the American Museum of
Natural History in New York in 2000. It Pantheon, Rome, c. 127 CE
was designed by the Polshek Partner-
ship and contains a spherical planetar-
ium in a glass-walled cube.
All three buildings, from differ-
ent periods of history, manifest archi-
tecture based on the sphere. They all
allude to the shape ascribed to the sky.
They also illustrate problems architects
encounter when trying to make spher-
ical spaces. These problems involve
conflicts between ideal geometry and
some of the geometries of being. The
first conflict relates to the geometry of
making; the second to the geometry
of human movement. Both involve the
consistently vertical force of gravity.
Hemispherical domes of masonry
or concrete, as in the Pantheon, grad-
ually channel the force of gravity down
through the spherical fabric to the Newton Cenotaph, Boullée, 1784
ground. But gravity acts differently on
an upside-down dome.
Think of an under-inflated balloon
resting on a table:

The top half will be approximately

dome-like while the bottom will be flat-
tened against the table’s surface. The
weight of the fabric of the dome itself,
even in the case of a light fabric bal-
loon, wants to spread outwards, dis-
torting any attempt at ideal spherical
geometry.
(continued on next page) Hayden Planetarium, New York, James Polshek, 2000

SPHERE 131
S PH E R E continued The interior of the Newton Cenotaph was not intended
as a space in which to move around; it would have been
The Pantheon deals with this problem by replacing the powerful enough just to experience the space from the cen-
bottom half of the sphere with a cylinder – the vertical walls tre, near the point occupied by the actual memorial to Isaac
take the weight of the dome down to the ground. Newton’s Newton (the definer of gravity).
Cenotaph was to rely on a huge mass of masonry wrapped The Hayden Planetarium deals with this problem in
around the lower half of the sphere to stop it spreading. a different way. An approximately horizontal floor is built
Being built as a spherical steel framework, the Hayden Plan- across the middle of the spherical space. In this way, while
etarium has more the integrated structure of an eggshell. the exterior is seen as a sphere, the interior is experienced
Its lower half is supported by props that hold the sphere in as a hemisphere. And architecturally, the equivalent here of
space. Newton’s empty tomb – the focus of Boullée’s design – is
Such are problems associated with achieving the ideal the Zeiss star projector. Notice that this does not occupy the
geometric form of a sphere in physical material – the geome- exact central point of the planetarium sphere but does occupy
try of making. But the architectural sphere holds challenges the geometric centre of the cubic building that frames that
for geometries of human movement and occupation too. sphere. This is an example of architecture alluding to the
The sphere may be a super-manifestation of the circle universal poetics of the circle and square, sphere and cube.
of place, expanding it into the third dimension; but whereas (See also page 145 of Analysing Architecture: the Universal
it is possible for each of us to occupy the centre of a circle Language of Place-Making.)
drawn on the ground and its expansion into space as a cyl- Spheres present challenges regarding entrance too.
inder, it is impossible without a trapeze to occupy the centre Imagine approaching the outside of a pure sphere – like a
of a large spherical space. Also, it is easy for us to move space craft – and wondering how to get in. The Pantheon
around – as did actors in the circular orkestra of an ancient has less problem with a doorway than my other two exam-
Greek theatre – on the horizontal ground define by a circle ples. The doorway gives access into the cylinder at ground
of place; but a built sphere of space has only a small area in level. But even so there is a conflict between the axial rec-
which, under the influence of the force of gravity, we would tangular geometry of the portico and the radial geometry of
feel able to move around. Think of trying to walk around in the circular plan.
the base of a wok (Chinese cooking pan); a surface good for Boullée solved the problem by entering the Newton
skateboarding is not going to be good for moving around on Cenotaph from underneath and emerging into the interior
foot. In a perfect sphere there is only one infinitely small spot near the lowest point of the sphere.
of its surface that is perfectly horizontal. The Hayden Planetarium is entered across a bridge
Again, the Pantheon deals with this problem by replac- near its midriff.
ing the bottom half of the sphere with a cylinder which has Like many examples in which ideal geometry – in
a circular but horizontal floor on which we may walk easily. these cases the sphere – is imposed on architectural form,
The infinitely small area of the sphere that would be hori- conflicts arise with geometries of being: the way people are
zontal is marked as the centre of the circular floor, directly made and move; the ways in which gravity exerts its force;
under the oculus that admits a shaft of sunlight to track and the ways in which materials can be constructed into
around the space. buildings. But none of that stops people trying…

Pantheon, plan

(Notice too that the architect of the Pantheon dealt

with the tendency of the convex outer perimeter of a circle
to affect the perception of the size and approachability of a
building by providing it with a large portico that presents this
essentially spherical space to the outside world as a typi-
cal orthogonal temple. Compare this with the way Asplund Look out for other attempts by architects to create perfectly
achieved something similar with the much more modest spherical buildings or spaces. Would you want to try and why?
Woodland Chapel. See pages 33 and 89.) How would you do it if you did?

132
E X ERCISE 11: a x ia l s y m met r y
While you were collecting (for the Notebook exercise on pages 127–30) examples
governed by ideal geometry, you may have noticed different strategies for dividing
plans into constituent rooms or spaces. We have already explored the geometry
of planning in Exercise 9 but here are more issues to consider, to do with spatial
hierarchy, movement and relationships with the world outside.
The tendency through history has been to associate ideal geometry with axial
symmetry. Axial symmetry can easily be confused with the doorway axis because
they often work congruently. But axial symmetry, whether in an elevation or a plan,
is primarily a compositional device mirroring one side of an axis with the other,
and as such is distinct from the phenomenological power of a doorway axis. It may
only be when you look at a drawn plan that you can see (from that abstract remote
viewpoint) whether or not it is arranged symmetrically about an axis; but you are
sensible to the power of a doorway axis as and when you experience it.
The symmetrical axis is a factor in ideal geometry. It has been a bone of
contention throughout the twentieth century. Symmetry and asymmetry suggest A doorway axis and axis of symmetry
can work together, the first sometimes
different attitudes to hierarchy and movement through the rooms of a building.
prompting the other. But whereas a
They can also lead onto different relationships between inside and outside. doorway axis is dynamic, leading from one
place into another and then on to a goal
(focus), an axis of symmetry is a principle
E X E RC I SE 1 1 a – axis of symmetry of spatial organisation and elevational
composition in which arrangements on
one side of an axis are mirrored on the
An axis of symmetry (which may also be a doorway axis) is an instrument of spatial other. Notice that – in Wittgenstein’s
organisation. We have seen this in previous exercises when, for example, we laid house on page 126, just as one example
out a house with a bed on each side of the axis and a hearth at its focus (top right). – a doorway axis need not be an axis of
general symmetry in a building’s spatial
We have seen too that this can lead conceptually to the classic form of the temple, organisation or elevational composition.
mosque or church, with its sense of direction, and movement along the axis to a
point of culmination (right).
When we draw an axis, whether or not it emanates from a doorway, it may
become not just a line of movement and focus but also a principle for spatial organi-
sation. It can be a principle of elevational composition too. The outward appearance
of a static human being (divinely designed), standing to attention and seen front-on,
is generally symmetrical; so perhaps the plans and elevations of buildings should
emulate that symmetry? As with ideal geometry, axial symmetry can provide a
sense of balance and harmony – rightness – in a design.
There are many ways in which the rooms of, for example, a square plan might
be laid out symmetrically about an axis. Most Classical and Beaux-Arts plans follow
this rule. An extreme example is on the following page, bottom left.
Try as many variations as you can with your blocks. There are some sug-
gestions on the next page. You might, for example, layout a plan based on your
3 x 3 square grid, like that of the core of the Necromanteion (built around three
thousand years ago in ancient Greece). Or you might organise your plan around a
main central room as in Palladio’s Villa Rotonda (on pages 124 and 129) or other
buildings influenced by it, such as Chiswick Villa (designed by Lord Burlington The doorway axis is the primary dynamic
idea of a church, temple, mosque… In
and William Kent in the late 1720s).
such buildings it is often associated with
Axial symmetry is an architectural idea, a strategy that helps in making axial symmetry.
design decisions. Its rule is that what happens on one side of an axis, in plan and
elevation, should be mirrored on the other. It is a powerful rule, often associated See also the chapter on ‘Axis’ in Analysing
Architecture: the Universal Language of Place-
with hierarchy and authority, but like all rules it invites subversion. Making.

E X E R C I S E 11: a x i a l s y m m e t r y 133
 Axial symmetry can be applied to elevations as well as plans.
Most of the world as we see it is asymmetrical; trees, rivers,
mountains, clouds are not made up of halves matching either
side of an axis. So when we see something that presents itself to
us as symmetrical – a face (your mother’s face when you were a
new-born baby, your lover’s face close up, your child’s face…),
the human body front-on – it stands out as special, it arrests our
attention, it seems to possess a distinct authority, beauty.

Necromanteion

For thousands of years architects have exploited that special

character, that arresting ‘rightness’, that apparent (divine?)
authority which derives from presenting front-on axial symmetry.
When it was ‘discovered’ as a principle for designing the external
appearance of buildings is an intriguing question. Though the
beginnings of axiality are present in the spatial arrangements of
very old buildings such as the ancient temples of Malta (page 38)
and the houses of Skara Brae (page 45), their external forms were
Chiswick Villa far from symmetrical. But in ancient Egypt, Greece and Rome,
important buildings generally were given symmetrical fronts.

symmetrical front of S. Maria Novella, Florence, by Alberti, 1470

Some buildings, such as this one designed by Marie-Joseph The association of axial symmetry with importance – power,
Peyre in 1756, are ‘all axis’! authority, specialness, beauty… – continues.

134
I S PE R FEC T A X I A L SY M M E T RY P O S S I B L E?

We have seen on pages 116–22 that there are difficulties

involved in trying to create perfect forms based on the ideal
geometry of squares and circles, cubes and spheres. There
are issues too in trying to achieve perfect axial symmetry.
Some of these you might see as undermining the authority
and power of axial symmetry. But others you might appreci-
ate as adding a counterpoint to axial symmetry’s rigid pre-
dictability and intransigence. Just as melody plays around a
rigid beat, and a dancer’s own corporal symmetry is twisted
and stretched, compressed and shaken by choreography,
so too can architecture, visual and spatial, be enriched by In reality as well as in architectural drawing, symmetrical
modifications to axial symmetry. elevations are made subtly asymmetrical by shadows cast by the
sun. Only for one moment during the day might those shadows too
be symmetrical.

Parthenon

Erechtheion

Propylaea
Pr opylaea

There is counterpoint between the original axial symmetry of the

Parthenon and the irregularity of the topography of the Acropolis.
And now, that symmetry is compromised by damage. The
Erechtheion and Propylaea combine symmetry and asymmetry.

If you are inclined to take authority from Nature… our external

form might seem symmetrical but that is not the case with the
arrangement of our internal organs.

Although the Casino (1759) at Marino outside Dublin is externally

symmetrical about two axes, the attempts of its architect William
And as soon as we start to move, we lose Chambers to achieve the same internally were defeated by
our external symmetry too. practical considerations, such as how to include a stair.

IS PERFECT A XIAL SYMMETRY POSSIBLE? 135

E X E RC I SE 1 1b – subverting axial symmetry

Music would be less stimulating if composers stuck with a

single key all the way through. Language would be stilted if
all you did was speak in simple subject-object-verb sentences.
The art of composition in all creative disciplines depends on
breaking norms and even rules, judging when and how to do
so. The axis generated by a doorway can be considered one
of the norms of architectural spatial composition. With your
blocks, experiment with subverting it.
Try disrupting the power of the doorway axis, as a
prompt for symmetry, by blocking it or occupying the centre:

An asymmetrical entrance makes axial movement

impossible and can reinforce a circular or wandering route.
In his tower house at Riva San Vitale (1973), for example,
Mario Botta established a spiral route through the building by
starting it with an off-centre entrance bridge on the top floor:

The plan may still be symmetrical but its symmetry

is subverted by the effect on the person whose movement is
diverted to one side or other by an obstruction. In this way entrance
bridge
the plan is no longer experienced as symmetrical but as a
circular route. You can (roughly) model the idea of Botta’s spiral route
Freedom from the authority of the axis of symmetry using your blocks. The route leads to a stair that runs down
might be achieved merely by moving the doorway: near the centre of the tower:

136
 Starting with a simple square of space defined by a
bounding wall, experiment with different ways of dividing
space that are free from the dominating power of the axis.
Begin with a doorway at a corner rather than positioned
centrally.
You could also divide the space with diagonal wall:

This (with a few additional subtleties) is effectively

what Sverre Fehn did when (in 1998) he was faced with the
challenge of arranging the interior space of Palladio’s Basilica
in Vicenza for an exhibition of his own work (below). Notice
too how this arrangement orchestrates movement by creat-
ing a sequence of constrained and more open spaces, with
intimate triangular rooms at each end of the diagonal wall.
A wall straight down the middle would not have done this. Alternatively, you might organise your space with a free
composition of orthogonal walls, as Mies van der Rohe might
have done (see next page)… except that he is likely to have
surrounded the space with a transparent glass wall rather
than one of blocks. Try both.

Your diagonal wall might even be curved rather than

straight. Notice how your experience of the spaces would be
different related to the precise position of the wall. In the
top drawing (right) you enter a narrow space past a probably
unnoticed doorway to your left, gradually reaching a wider
space…; whereas in the middle drawing you enter directly
into a large space, eventually finding a doorway, one way or
the other, into the more secluded second space.

E X E R C I S E 11: a x i a l a s y m m e t r y 137
 This might lead you to wonder why your walls need to … which, of course, gives you a plan similar in type to that of
be attached to each other and why they need to be confined the Barcelona Pavilion:
within a bounding wall. Maybe the internal walls might begin
to ‘escape’ through the doorway.

You can imagine how those spaces in your block model

might be used, perhaps as: an entrance lobby; a dining space;
a kitchen; a living room; a small study.

Perhaps your freely composed walls decide they no

longer need the bounding walls. They can define, or suggest,
circles of place on their own...

You might divide your space with a core, perhaps

containing a bathroom, closet, kitchen... (above). With glass
rather than masonry bounding walls, this was the idea of
Mies’s Farnsworth House (page 82; and see Twenty-Five
Buildings Every Architect Should Understand) and of related
projects such as the Fifty-by-Fifty-Foot House…

... perhaps with the help of transparent glass walls that do not
obscure views to the outside world (and create reflections)…

... in which the core contains plant room and bathrooms

but also plays its part in dividing up the space of the house
between kitchen, bedroom and living spaces.

138
 In his courtyard houses, Mies also experimented with
what might be thought of as close to the inverse architectural
idea – i.e. dividing the space within a solid perimeter with Even though the breaks in the outer screen walls may
glass walls (above). remain asymmetrical, the central doorway provokes an axis
In his extension to the National Architecture Museum related to the centre of the space. In doing so it changes the
in Oslo (2008), Sverre Fehn made a glass enclosure with dynamic nature of the space. It becomes static rather than
roof supported on four columns, surrounded by a separate circumambulatory. Fehn reinforced the circulatory dynamic
bounding screen wall. This he broke open in places to provide with those angled openings providing glimpsed views through
specific views out. the screen walls.

Putting the doorway in the corner is less determinis-

tic; it suggests wandering into and around a space in which
exhibits, their cases and stands, may be laid out in many
You can try to model Fehn’s plan with your blocks (right) informal ways. Axes would have been feasible in this plan,
to get a feel for the space created. The corner entrance avoids but Fehn avoided them. After all, the extension was intended
the possible axial relationship with the four columns. Notice as a gallery space, rather than a temple.
how the nature of the space, its implied dynamic (i.e. how There are multifarious ramifications to asymmetry in
you tend to move into and through it anti-clockwise), changes planning. You can explore them endlessly, finding those that
when you move the doorway from where Fehn put it to the appear to relate to a brief (program), site or, like Fehn’s,
centre of one side of the new extension (top right). provide an engaging experience.

E X E R C I S E 11: a x i a l a s y m m e t r y 139
I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : s y m met r y a nd a s y m met r y
In your notebook... collect and draw
examples of plans that are symmetrical
and others that are not. You will also
find plans that are partly symmetrical
and partly not.
You will find symmetry and asym-
metry in all periods of architecture and
across all cultures. For the moment you
only need to collect a few examples.
Hopefully, you will continue to use your
notebook to collect examples of differ-
ent themes throughout your career.
You should also collect plans of
some buildings that you might be able
to visit. Architecture exists, and might
best be analysed, in drawings but it is
appreciated by experiencing the reality.
Think carefully about the differ-
This is a hypothetical plan for an English Gentleman’s House taken from Robert Kerr’s
ences between symmetry, asymmetry, book of that title published in the nineteenth century. Why is part of it symmetrical –
and how they can be mixed. In each arranged according to two axes at right angles – and part asymmetrical? How does
example, consider issues such as: this difference relate to what you might call hierarchical space. Perhaps drawing on
your viewing of historical period dramas, imagine the different sorts of activities and
• is symmetry merely a graphic behaviours in the different parts of the house. How does this make you feel about the
game being played by the archi- relationships between architecture – spatial organisation and identification of place –
and life, social status, leisure and drudgery?
tect to make what might appear
a balanced drawing?
• what are the implications for
movement and the experience
of the person?
3
• how are these different in the
case of symmetrical and asym-
metrical plans? (Think about
direction and wandering.)
• what happens when you com-
pose a number of small sym-
metries within an asymmetri-
cal whole?
• do you feel different in a sym-
metrical space as compared
to an asymmetrical space; in 2 1

what way do you feel different?

• how might symmetry or asym-
metry in the layout of spaces
affect your ability to know
where you are, to find your way On the left is a plan of a typical traditional Japanese tea-house comprising changing room
about a building? (1), waiting bench (2) and tea-house (3) all set in a carefully tended garden. On the right
is the plan of the part of the ancient (c. 2000 BCE) Minoan palace at Knossos thought to
You will think of other issues to have been the Royal Apartments. Both avoid emphasising doorway axes. What might this
consider too. asymmetry indicate about attitudes to hierarchy in each case?

140
How would your experience of Erik
Bryggman’s Cemetery Chapel at Turku
(1941, above) be different from that of
Erik Gunnar Asplund’s Woodland Chapel
(1918, below)?

Above is the layout of Sissinghurst garden, formed amongst older buildings in the
early twentieth century by Vita Sackville-West and Harold Nicolson. Below is Frank
Lloyd Wright’s Martin Residence (1904). Both use axes and symmetry within a larger
asymmetrical whole. Imagine the parts played by symmetry and asymmetry in what we
might call narrative experience – the ways in which spatial organisation and identification
of place can take people through a sequence of experiences akin to a story. How do
you think these architects’ attitudes to a person’s experience differed? Also, make some
assessment as to how, in these particular cases, the architects responded to what was
already there? If you can get to either of these places, or similar ones, go… and be
conscious of the effects of symmetry and asymmetry on your own experience.

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: symmetr y and asymmetr y 141

N UA N C E D SY M M E T RY

Glasgow School of Art, Mackintosh, c. 1900, elevation to Renfrew Street

Sometimes an architect will play with symmetry, breaking it and

adjusting it to create a more subtle composition. Above is the
elevation of the Glasgow School of Art designed by Charles
Rennie Mackintosh around the beginning of the twentieth century.
Its doorway is exactly at the centre of the elevation, with the
perimeter wall along the public pavement of Renfrew Street
arranged symmetrically about its steps. But the elevation itself,
though it might at first sight appear symmetrical, is not. Large
north-facing windows light studios of varying sizes along its
length.
The central portion of the elevation is designed almost as
if it is a building in its own right. It too is an exercise in nuanced
symmetry/asymmetry (one of the best in all architecture). Its
‘notes’ are composed with as much subtlety as a piece of
music. You can see for yourself, in my sketch on the right, how
symmetrical components are arranged asymmetrically.
The doorway itself, though symmetrical, is divided into two
by a central post. The left hand leaf is marked ‘IN’, the left ‘OUT’
recognising the asymmetry of people passing at a doorway.
As you would expect in a building accommodating many
different activities, the play between symmetry and asymmetry
continues within. Glasgow School of Art, Mackintosh, c. 1900, entrance elevation

Karl Friedrich Schinkel designed the

Charlottenhof Palace for his client Crown
Prince Frederick William of Prussia in
the 1820s. It stands in the grounds of
Sansoucci Park at Potsdam near Berlin.
You can see from the plan (right) that the
building, together with its adjacent garden,
is broadly symmetrical. But Schinkel
deviated from this underlying symmetry in
various ways and for varying reasons.
First, its doorway (like Mackintosh’s)
is divided by a central post, preventing
entry exactly on the axis. The stairs in the
hallway, taking you up to the main floor –
the piano nobile – are also divided. It is
only in the main room with its portico that
you can occupy the axis.
The garden, at the same level as
the piano nobile, also has an axis but is
asymmetrical. You cannot walk along the
axis but are diverted to a shady walk along
the southern edge, at the end of which
you can re-encounter the axis in a sitting
alcove. The garden as a whole is oriented
north towards the broad views of the
greater Sansoucci Park. Charlottenhof Palace, Schinkel, 1820s, plan

142
E X ERCISE 12: play i ng w it h ge omet r y
You, like all architects, can play other games with ideal E X E RC I SE 1 2 a – layering geometry
geometry. These include: layering geometries one on another;
breaking geometries; and distorting geometries. With these It might not be something that would occur to you when
we are rapidly approaching the limits of what can be explored building in the real world, but when you begin to draw plans
through the medium of your children’s building blocks and for buildings before erecting them it is easy to allow graphic
bread board. devices to enter in. An ideal geometric figure – circle, square,
When exploring the games that can be played with √2 rectangle, octagon… – drawn on that ‘terrifying’ blank
geometry, try to assess, in your own work and in that of other sheet of paper (or computer screen) can seem a useful way of
architects, whether those games are being played for the ben- kick-starting a design. Playing games with that geometry –
efit of how the work will be seen and experienced by others, layering it, breaking it, contorting it… – can be the next step,
or for private (their/your own secret) pleasure. and a way of escaping from being accused of cliché. After all,
the difference between a statement and a joke is the upsetting
of expectation.
We might imagine (mischievously and entirely without
historical evidence) Andrea Palladio idly twiddling a pair of
compasses as he tried to come up with that idea for his newly
won commission to build a grand house for the retired priest
Paolo Almerico (but see page 124 for a more serious explana-
tion of how Palladio came up with his geometric idea):

plan

1 2
By concentric circles and squares, Palladio grew the
In his design for the Johnson House at Sea Ranch (on the North
California coast, 1965) William Turnbull began with a square,
armature for Villa Rotonda around a single centre. (See
which he related to the geometry of making in timber (1 above). also pages 35 and 101.) This can be counted something of a
He then added to and took away from this square in response to geometric game played in architecture, albeit one with phil-
the setting and to the activities the house was to accommodate.
This produced the underlying geometric framework for the plan osophical/poetic intent.
of the house (2). The result, for the private and privileged eye Palladio could have layered his geometry in many dif-
of the architect at least, can be interpreted as the spatial/formal
equivalent to a layered chord in music. How do you think you ferent ways, breaking free of the centre and its related axes
might appreciate this ‘game’ in the actuality of the building? of symmetry.

E X ERCIS E 12: playing w it h geomet r y 143

 Even with your blocks you might, for example, dislocate You can imagine this rather simplistic example serving
squares so they create a composition of eccentric and different to accommodate an entrance lobby, kitchen and living room,
sized spaces. or perhaps a bathroom and bedroom. The result is similar to
the plan of the Umemiya House built in the early 1980s by
the Japanese architect Tadao Ando:

You could then remove portions of the walls to make

the spaces you need; maybe replace a corner with a column
(to support the roof or floor above) and make some walls of
glass to give light and views. (You can add your own windows.)

upper plan

lower plan

This house has a bedroom, shower room and living

space on the lower floor, and a dining room, kitchen and
partly shaded outdoor terrace on the upper. The stair between
the two occupies a corner of the larger square. One square
is displaced from the other at an angle of 45° so that almost
all the spaces of the house are also square, except the shower
room, which has to make way for the entrance passage, and
the dining room/kitchen which is nominally a double square.
(See page 122 for why I use the word ‘nominally’.)

144
 You can layer other ideal geometric figures too; a square
with a circle for example:

In this case you might remove portions to allow access

between the spaces you wish to create, and perhaps convert
parts of the geometry into columns, glass walls, balcony
balustrades, maybe a hearth or movie screen.

Tadao Ando played with geometry in many of his works. This is the
plan of his Museum of Literature in Himeji, Japan (1989-91). You
can see that it is based on a composition of a circle and square
(below), though one that becomes more complicated than our
preceding block model. Here, the ‘musical chord’ of space/form
becomes more complex and perhaps more discordant than in
Turnbull’s Johnson House on page 143.

This might result in a small apartment (yet to be given an

entrance doorway!) with a corner focus and a circular balcony
protruding from the opposite corner. The permutations are Experiment with layering other figures for yourself,
endless. Geometric games provide an inexhaustible quarry using your blocks or in drawing. As you will have realised,
of architectural ideas – patterns from which design can be the potential of play blocks for exploring complicated layered,
started. It is understandable that this way of beginning design broken and distorted geometries is very limited. The same
has been indulged in by architects almost from the beginnings might be said of the traditional mass-produced construction
of human history. elements of real buildings – bricks, timber, glass…

E X ERCIS E 12: playing w it h geomet r y 145

E X E RC I SE 1 2b – twisted geometry

Try adding a twist (literally) by turning one square at an

angle to the other:

In his design for the Children’s Retreat in Damdana, India (1999,

above), Gautam Bhatia has used various geometric figures, rather
like children’s blocks. Some are twisted in relation to others, but
Again, removal of portions of walls provide access from they do not overlap. The building is built in stone and brick and
one space to another. Perhaps some walls might be glass: generally follows the geometry of making.

With additional subtleties, this was the approach used by

The above arrangement might contain: a living room Tadao Ando in his design for the Minolta Seminar Building in
separated from a sun lounge or balcony by a glass wall; a tiny Kobe, Japan (1989-91) but with overlaps as well as twists. The
plan of the Minolta Seminar Building is based on a collection
triangular cupboard; and a small study; with the apartment of overlapping squares, one of which is rotated to break the
accessed through a triangular entrance lobby. predictability of the geometry.

146
E X E RC I SE 1 2c – breaking ideal geometry

Alternatively, you could look at what happens when you frac-

ture geometry, maybe by dislocating a portion (1), by biting a
piece off (2) or by breaking it into pieces (3).

In his extension to the National Architecture Museum in Oslo

(see also page 139), Sverre Fehn fractured the outer screen wall
around the glass box of the gallery to allow the controlled views
out. This also gives the external form of the gallery extension a
sculptural quality.

The architect Alvaro Siza built the Casa Carlos Beires (also
known as ‘The Bomb House’) in the mid 1970s. You can see
its conception in its plan. It is as if a corner of a 4 x 3 rectangle
has been broken off, with a zig-zag glass wall like a tear across
the breach in the wall. The external sculptural effect is not as
pronounced as some later architectural experiments with the
breaking of ideal geometry.

See also pages 161–2 of Analysing Architecture: the Universal Language

3 of Place-Making.

E X ERCIS E 12: playing w it h geomet r y 147

 The form idea of the Vitra Fire Station extends a historical
sequence identified by the theorist Bruno Zevi in his 1978 book
The Modern Language of Architecture (see page 162 of Analysing
Architecture: the Universal Language of Place-Making). Where
Modern architecture broke open the orthogonal box, Zaha Hadid
breaks orthogonal geometry… a process that ultimately returns
us to the formless pile of blocks from which we began these
exercises:

Vitra Fire Station, plan

Vitra Fire Station, perspective

The ‘breaking’ manifest in Zaha Hadid’s Vitra Fire Station is more

drastic. It is as if the elements of an orthogonal building have
been broken apart by some disruptive force and recomposed
according to a warped alternative geometry that diverges from the
orthogonal. Apart from the consistent ground plane, the building
disrupts the six-directions-plus-centre that have been a controlling
condition of architecture since ancient times. It begins to evoke
the idea of architecture returning to formlessness… maybe as a
comment on contemporary culture. The result is steered more
towards sculptural effect than commodious place-making.

148
FO RC E S B E YO N D YO U R C O N T RO L Ideal geometry may help you make design decisions.
It is, nevertheless, hermetic, sealed off in its own realm (of
Designing form according to ideal geometry may express uncertain location, see pages 139–40 of Analysing Archi-
a desire to achieve perfection, intellectual or aesthetic. tecture: the Universal Language of Place-Making). In its
It might derive from a human aspiration to do better than perfect form, ideal geometry can only exist as an idea. But
Nature as a creative force. Nature’s products always seem even when we get close to achieving perfect form in building
in some way to be flawed or deviate from the perfect model. it is likely to be disrupted when it encounters the real world.
Maybe human beings should see themselves as the agents There are many possible causes of such disruption.
of perfection, bringing order and discipline to the apparent- Here is an example. When I had built the model for
ly mindless and indifferent Natural creation. Some see this Exercise 10c (below left), my wife walked past carrying a
humanist attitude as heroism; others as hubris – misdirected, towel. The corner of the towel brushed the model causing
cocky and ultimately futile arrogance. Poetically, some see part of it to collapse (just as an explosion in 1656 damaged
‘order’ as a misreading of the human condition, or at best as the Parthenon; see page 135). The form of my building
a doomed attempt to resolve the chronic disorder of human changed; it had been affected by a force beyond my control.
history. It acquired a form that I could never have achieved by con-
We do not have to interpret ideal geometry in this phil- scious decision. Even if I knocked the model deliberately,
osophical way. It can have a more prosaic role in architec- I would knock it in a predetermined place, harder or softer
ture. When you are faced with the blank sheet of paper or than the towel... and the result would be different from that
computer screen and are setting out to fill it with a design, created by chance. I would know that I had done the dam-
drawing a square (for example) provides a starting point and age deliberately. Even if, after I had wiped it away, I rebuilt
a hand rail to guide you through the design process. It leads the model in its damaged state, carefully and precisely, the
you into a system for design, based in geometry, according result would be conceptually different from the model dam-
to which you can make design decisions. aged by being brushed accidentally by the towel.

FO RCES BE YO N D YOU R CO NTRO L 149

I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : forc e s be yond c ont rol

Castelvecchio, Verona, Carlo Scarpa Neues Museum, Berlin, David Chipperfield

Think of other forces and factors that afflict buildings and Find some more examples where forces beyond the
change their form undermining any perfection they might architect’s control have afflicted or affected a work of archi-
have or aspire to. These include: the weather – rain, wind, tecture to its aesthetic and poetic benefit. Categorise some
ice, sun...; seismological forces – earthquakes, tsunami, vol- of those forces. In your notebook make sketches, in any way
canic activity...; the growth of plants; and the actions of other you think is most appropriate, and record your own analysis
people – damage through use or alteration, vandalism, war... of how an architect’s will and the results of mindless forces
As an architect your attitude to the effects of these forces may work together or conflict.
beyond your control evokes Hamlet’s quandary: ‘Whether A warning… you will find it difficult (impossible?) to
‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of discover any example which is not affected by forces beyond
outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, the control of the architect! Some architects would like to
and by opposing end them?’ But a third way is to exploit or believe that their work exists free of influences beyond their
celebrate – embrace – the effects of forces beyond your con- control, and maybe deceive themselves that that is the case
trol for aesthetic or poetic effect (perhaps as long as they do (despite evidence to the contrary). Other architects, realising
not completely undermine the pragmatic value of the work). that forces beyond their control will play into their work, try
Some of the most subtle and powerful works of archi- to predict the affects of those forces and adjust their work
tecture play on this blend of accident and control, Nature and accordingly – not only to try to negate those forces but maybe
order imposed by the mind. This is easily seen in gardens also to embrace them. Yet other architects are aware that once
where designs imposed by a mind are realised in the form their work is done, the result is beyond their control and so
of plants that grow according to their own natures. Some leave it to its fate… See if you can distinguish some of these
Picturesque gardens of the eighteenth and nineteenth cen- different attitudes and how they play into particular examples.
turies, such as Scotney Old Castle in Kent, benefitted from Think too about your own attitude to the forces and factors
having a ruined building as the focus of their composition. beyond your control that may play into and affect your work.
In Italy, Ninfa is a large (20 acre) garden created within the
ruins of an old city deserted in the fourteenth century.
This attitude can inform the treatment of old buildings See for:

too. At the Castelvecchio in Verona (in the 1950s, above left), Scotney – nationaltrust.org.uk/scotney-castle (September 2021).
the architect Carlo Scarpa allowed remnants of different Ninfa – frcaetani.it/en/garden-of-ninfa/ (September 2021).
periods of the building’s history to contribute to his design.
Castelvecchio – museodicastelvecchio.comune.verona.it (September 2021).
And in the Neues Museum in Berlin, which was reopened in
Neues Museum – smb.museum/en/museums-institutions/neues-museum/
2009 after lying in ruins since the Second World War, the home/ (September 2021).
architect David Chipperfield retained marks of war damage
See also the chapter on ‘Ruin’, in The Ten Most Influential Buildings in
as a reminder of the building’s past (above right). History: Architecture’s Archetypes.

150
a house distorted by earthquake and decay Tirana Rocks project, Albania, MVRDV

A R T I FI C I A L R U I N – b r o ke n g e o m e t r y

We tend to think of broken geometries as associated with

damage and destruction. The orthogonal geometry of
buildings might be disrupted by disaster – earthquake, tsu-
nami, hurricane, war... But, as architects, we might decide to
imitate that brokenness for aesthetic and poetic effect.
Dutch architects MVRDV have explored disruption of
geometries aligned with the vertical and horizontal in com-
petition entries such as their proposal for the Tirana Rocks
project in Albania (right top, 2009) and for Motor City in
Spain (right middle, 2007). Both are compositions of blocks
arranged as if tumbled onto the ground. Their disrupted
geometry is reminiscent of the leaning house in the Bomarzo
Gardens in Italy (right bottom, sixteenth century). All chal-
lenge our expectations that the walls of buildings be ver-
tical and their floors horizontal. They might adhere to the
geometry of making, but at an angle (to the vertical force
of gravity). The floors of the leaning house in Bomarzo
Motor City project, Spain, MVRDV
slope, making the experience of being inside strange. Both
MVRDV competition proposals include habitable spaces so
their floors have to be horizontal. The leaning geometry of
all three examples contrasts with the general horizontality of
the surfaces on which we walk (and, in the top example, the
surface of the lake behind), the general verticality of people
and trees and the orthogonality of nearby buildings (and, in
one case, the adjacent football pitch, the geometry of which
is of course sacrosanct).
‘Broken’ architectural geometry, whether ideal geome-
try or the various geometries of being – making, measuring,
six-directions… – challenge our experience (practical and
aesthetic) in ways similar to architecture ruined by natural
disaster or war. It may therefore have its poetic potential.
But the broken geometry of schemes such as those by Zaha
Hadid (page 148) and MVRDV are artificial – the result of
planned formal distortion – and the balance between poetic
effect and practicality has to be carefully considered. (May-
be you believe there are justifiable reasons for challenging
practical expectations or stimulating particular aesthetic
responses. Famously, for example, the Vitra Fire Station –
however powerful its architectural aspiration might be – is no
longer used as a fire station because its irregular geometry leaning house, Bomarzo Gardens, Italy
and sharp angles make it dangerous for firemen and women
rushing to deal with emergencies. It is instead now used as
a venue for events and exhibitions… purposes more suited See also the analysis of the Vitra Fire Station in Twenty-Five Buildings
to its form and unconventional appearance. Every Architect Should Understand.

ARTIFICIAL RUIN – broken geometr y 151

G E O M E T RY C H A L L E N G E D BY C O N D I T I O N S

Unlike architecture confined to a sheet of paper or to the

other side of a computer screen, architecture intended for
the real world has to take into account the existing condi-
tions of the site. As discussed in the chapter ‘Temples and
Cottages’ in Analysing Architecture: the Universal Language
of Place-Making you, as an architect, might adopt different
attitudes to these. You might seek to erase restrictive condi-
tions – maybe by levelling ground, chopping down trees or
demolishing existing buildings…– or try to respond sympa-
thetically, hopefully to the benefit of your design.
Sometimes the conditions with which you, as architect,
are faced cannot be rubbed away. They shall impinge on
your design. There may be topography that is so severe that
the land cannot be levelled, trees that are to be preserved
by law or are just too beautiful to fell, a stream that cannot
be diverted, buildings that belong to other people and are
perhaps protected as of historic or cultural importance.
What happens when ideal geometry hits up against
such intractable conditions? It must, in one way or another,
give way. It must allow its ‘purity’, its ‘perfection’ to be distort-
ed; compromise/reconciliation found…
But that situation has its own poetic potential. After all,
our best laid plans – whether for the perfect temple or for the The axis of symmetry is a factor of ideal geometry. But it cannot
perfect murder – will always hit up against snags. The great always have its own way; it is often challenged by conditions. We
have already seen (on page 108) that when Antoine le Pautre
architect (murderer) turns those snags into opportunities.
designed the Hôtel de Beauvais in Paris his training told him he
The grain of grit produces the pearl. The discord provokes had to accommodate an axis of symmetry even in a site made
the heart-twinge, broken grammar a tear. The ‘mistake’ (fault irregular by surrounding buildings. The result, like a piece of
line) is proof of humanity and its complex interrelationship music in which the dominant key is challenged by discord, is more
with the world. interesting than a generally symmetrical plan would have been.

When Andrea Palladio designed the Teatro Olimpico (1580s) he So what would you do if you were bent on designing a perfectly
may well have wanted the tiers of seating to be perfect semicircles cubic building on an irregular sloping site with an unavoidable
but he had to adapt his idea to the space available in the Castello stream crossing it and a couple of fine trees? How would you
del Territorio in Vicenza. As it happens, that distortion had exploit the challenge for the enhancement of your scheme?
the positive effect of increasing the intimacy of the audience’s (Maybe it is not in your character as an architect to impose ideal
relationship with the stage. And when there, even though it is not, geometry on the world, but please just try it as a hypothetical
you tend to perceive the seating as semicircular anyway. (See exercise, one that makes the point that all your ideas for buildings
also page 142 of The Ten Most Influential Buildings in History: are likely to face challenges that involve compromise… and that
Architecture’s Archetypes.) such compromise might well be the making of your project.)

152
 E X E RC I SE 1 2d – more complex geometry

Mathematics, or the way in which the consistent force of

gravity (which, according to Newtonian physics, acts accord-
ing to mathematical formulae) exerts its power, can produce
geometric forms more complex than the circle, square or
rectangle. Natural growth too sometimes appears to follow
mathematical formulae. Here are three examples for you to
experiment with: the catenary curve; the spiral; the Möbius
strip. The mathematics of curves is the controlling dynamic
of computer driven ‘parametric’ design but it works in real
form too.

Catenary curve

The catenary curve is, put simply (without the mathematical

formula), the curve of a piece of string or chain hanging from
its two ends (top left). Because it is a curve generated by the
force of gravity the catenary also, when inverted, makes a
strong form for an arch. It is the form of the Gateway Arch in
St Louis (middle left).
You can try building a catenary arch with your blocks
(bottom left) but it will not be easy. You will need to make
‘centring’ to support your arch temporarily while you are
building it. You can do this by tracing a catenary curve
(downloaded from the internet) onto card. Cut this out and
form your arch around it. You can use ‘tack’ to fill the joints
and stick the blocks together.
The Spanish architect Antonio Gaudi used catenary
arches in his buildings. This drawing (below) shows the arches
built of brick in the attic space of his Casa Milà in Barcelona
(1910). Gaudi experimented with complex catenary models
– hanging weights from loops of string – when deciding on
the shapes of the vaults for his much grander project for the
Sagrada Familia, also in Barcelona.

See also Curve, in the Analysing Architecture Notebook series.

E X ERCIS E 12: playing w it h geomet r y 153

Spiral

The spiral is the form of some types of shell. It is a form of

growth.
It has been used by architects too. You can describe a
spiral on your board using a pencil and a piece of string. Take You can build a three dimensional spiral – a helix – too.
a cylindrical block and stand it at the centre of the board. As you build a tower, rotate each successive block by the same
Fixing one end of the string to the block, wrap it around the amount. This is effectively the form of a spiral staircase, as
cylinder. Tie the other end to the pencil. As you unwind the found in the towers of medieval castles.
string you can trace a spiral on the board. Spirals have been used by more recent architects too.
The best known ‘spiral’ building of the twentieth century is
no doubt Frank Lloyd Wright’s Guggenheim Art Museum in
New York (1959, below). One question related to your spiral
architecture is whether it is primarily a form or a route. In the
Guggenheim the spiral is primarily a route leading the visitor
upwards (or downwards) through the building. That gives it
its sculptural form. Your block model (left) is a pathway too,
culminating in a central focus.

Then build your spiral with blocks.

154
 Zvi Hecker’s apartment building in the Ramat Gan
suburb of Tel Aviv in Israel is a complex and broken spiral of
squares and circles (below).
Ushida Findlay’s House for the Third Millennium (1994,
right, which has not been built) is formed by a spiral that winds
up to a roof terrace and then back down to the ground floor.

House for the Third Millennium, section

top floor

middle floor

Ramat Gan apartments, plan

In the Ramat Gan apartments (above) the role of the spiral

is primarily formal, to give the building a dramatic sculptural
appearance.

In the House for the Third Millennium (right) the spiral is both
formal and route-creating. The building, if built, would have a
sculptural form but the route takes the visitor through the building.
Notice that this spiral is similar to that of a shell, narrowing as it
approaches the centre. ground floor

E X ERCIS E 12: playing w it h geomet r y 155

 Daniel Libeskind’s unbuilt proposal for an extension A Möbius strip has only one surface. You can make one by taking
to the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, called ‘The a strip of paper, twisting it once, and sticking the ends together.
With a pencil you can trace a line right around the strip, twice,
Spiral’, was reputedly inspired by a folded strip of stiff paper. never leaving the single surface.

Möbius strip

In this building the spiral is purely formal/sculptural. Architects have used many different geometric figures (in
As in the case of the sphere and the leaning blocks of MVRDV addition to the square, circle etc., and the catenary curve
(page 151), the floor becomes problematic in Libeskind’s and spiral) as the basis on which to generate the design of
Spiral. In Wright’s Guggenheim the f loor ramps gently buildings: pyramids; prisms; ellipses; parabolas; hyperbolas...
upwards through the full height of the building. In Ushida Not only Libeskind has been inspired by folded paper. Ben van
Findlay’s House for the Third Millennium it is formed of a stair Berkel of UN Studio conceived a house based on the Möbius
that counterpoints the horizontal living floors. In Libeskind’s strip, which has only one surface (above). You can make one by
section the floors cut across the irregular internal space of the cutting a strip of paper and twisting one end a half turn then
building (below) leaving the distorted spiral more apparent sticking the ends together. The Möbius House in Amsterdam
from the outside than within. (1998, below) has loops of space that relate to the life within.

Of course it is impossible to experience a house as an actual

Möbius strip. Just imagine trying to walk on the single surface of
the strip of paper in the top image. It is used more as an idea, one
that implies an endless loop of space taking in the accommodation
and life of the house. (Compare with Friedrich Kiesler’s Endless
House on page 215.)

156
E X E RC I SE 1 2e – distorting geometry

The strange, unorthodox, weird... attracts attention. Jokes

depend on twisting norms and expectations. Distortion
adds strangeness and sometimes humour. In architecture it
includes effects such as: making buildings appear as if seen
through a distorting lens or in a distorting mirror; mak-
ing surfaces appear warped, wrinkled or melted; making
buildings with fluid, liquid forms. In recent decades these
effects and their realisation in buildings have been made
easier to achieve by computer software.
There is a limit to the extent to which you can experi-
ment with these effects using your blocks. The blocks’ own
geometry of making is incompatible with the free curves
needed. In the following drawings I have smoothed out the
lines of the models into curves. I have also used tacky putty to
vary the thicknesses of the joints between blocks or to make The freedom (which is infinitely greater when using
elements lean from the vertical. (I could also have used the computer software than wooden blocks) seems compelling;
‘distort’ facility in Photoshop.) Even with the limitations of it is certainly seductive. Shapes become possible that would
the materials to hand, it is possible to experience some of the otherwise be inconceivable. But, as in the case of other non-
possibilities of making architecture free from the restraints orthogonal geometry, results can find themselves in conflict,
imposed by the geometry of making. not only with the geometry of making (which may be overcome
For example, constructing a block model free from the by the power of computer manufacturing software) but also
authority of the rectangle makes the process more sculptural. with geometries that cannot be modified – those of gravity,
No longer is the position and orientation of each block predicted the person, furniture and doorways; aspects of architecture
by the rectangular geometry it shares with its fellow blocks. related to the geometries of being. Apart from the pull of
Each is positioned in its own individual way according to your gravity, complexity of construction and a need to shed rain-
eye and judgement or according to parametric algorithms. water, there is no problem giving a roof or ceiling an irregular
There is no rule other than your aesthetic sensibility. You curving geometry. It can, however, be problematic positioning
curve and slope your walls and roofs free of the geometry of standard beds and cupboards in irregularly shaped rooms
making and the ‘authority’ of ideal geometry. and against curving walls.

E X ERCIS E 12: playing wit h geomet r y 157

 Dr Chau Chak Wing Building, Sydney, Frank Gehry

Bioscleave House, section

And, even though we human beings might enjoy stroll-

ing up hills and down dales, we could find it uncomfortable
and tiring living in spaces with uneven floors that disturb
our balance.

Creating the curving walls of the Dr Chau Chak Wing Building

in Sydney (Frank Gehry, 2015, top right) involved distorting the
geometry of making. Obviously this could not be achieved by
bending conventional bricks, so a large number of ‘specials’ had
to be made and then carefully placed in their correct positions by
bricklayers. Such distortion can be aesthetically intriguing but it is
also expensive.

When Madeline Gins and Arakawa conceived the Bioscleave

House on Long Island (2008) they wanted it to promote health and
even stave off death. To help in this they distorted a normally flat
floor into hills and valleys (section and plan right), so that, merely
by living in the house, occupants would be engaged in health-
promoting exercise.

See also Curve, in the Analysing Architecture Notebook series.

For the Bioscleave House see Twenty-Five Buildings Every Architect

Should Understand. Bioscleave House, plan

158
I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : d i stor ted ge omet r y
In your notebook... collect examples of buildings with distorted
geometries. In each case try to assess why the geometry has
been distorted. Is it for a practical reason or for sensational
effect? Is it to amuse or to grab attention? Might it be to
introduce aesthetic subtlety? Are there other reasons for
distorting geometry; ideal geometry or any of the geometries
of being? While collecting examples – you may record them
in any way you think appropriate – think about your own
attitude to distortion.
Effects of distortion have been used for amusement, in
fairground attractions such as ‘The House that Jack Built’,
or to attract attention for commercial reasons such as in
that Krzywy Domek (Crooked House) built in Sopot, Poland
(2004, below and on page 94) by Szotynscy & Zaleski, which
is primarily a distorted façade.

The Polish Crooked House has horizontal floors but, in

their design for the Dutch Pavilion in the Hanover Expo (top
Dutch Pavilion, Hanover Expo, section
right, 2000), each floor of which simulated a different type of
landscape, architects MVRDV made one floor with a rolling
hilly ground surface.
MVRDV also experimented with a distorted floor plane
in their design for the headquarters of the VPRO broadcasting
organisation in Hilversum, in the Netherlands (1997, right).
You may also recall (from descriptions in Doorway and
Twenty-Five Buildings Every Architect Should Understand)
that in the Church of St Petri, Klippan, Sigurd Lewerentz made
the floor uneven, perhaps in recollection of the floor of Saint
Mark’s Basilica in Venice but maybe also to provoke the slight
unsteadiness of being on the deck of a ship at sea.
Just in these four examples you can see there are differ-
ent reasons for distortion: humour; sensation; experiential
effect; poetic meaning…; and in the case of the Bioscleave
House (opposite), benefit to health. VPRO Building, Hilversum

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: distor ted geometr y 159

 Many architects have explored the potential of the
complex curved, distorted, geometries made possible with
computer software. The Raybould House, Connecticut, USA
(bottom left) was designed by Kolatan & MacDonald in 1997;
and the Torus House, Columbia County, New York (below) by
Preston Scott Cohen in 1999.

Perhaps the most famous example of distortion is

Frank Gehry’s Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain (1997,
above and on page 95). The sculpturally distorted form of its
polished titanium cladding is credited with having trans-
formed the economy of the city by attracting multitudes to
see its sensational contrast with the orthodox (and generally
orthogonal) city surroundings.

Torus House, sections

The Raybould House has a free, almost amoebic, form

(but with horizontal floors). In the latter, it is as if the Torus
House straddles some sort of force field that has distorted its
otherwise orthogonal geometry. To the left and the right (in
the above sections) of this ‘warp’ all is orthogonal – floors
and ceilings are horizontal – but in-between there is a strip
of distortion where walls, floors and ceilings are twisted.
Think about how you might use distortion in your own
design, and why. Perhaps, as an experiment, you could make a
simple design – for a garden shed (the one on page 75 perhaps),
or a kennel – and then consider various ways – appropriate
and inappropriate (according to your own judgement) – of
introducing distortions. Think, for example, about which of
the various kinds of geometry we have encountered so far in
these exercises that you wish to distort. Be sensible about
Raybould House, section and plan difficulty of construction and cost… but also be adventurous!

160
 More sophisticated ‘parametric’ computer software enables the
generation of complex forms in three dimensions and can model
and dimension the component parts from which such a building
could be built. I constructed the image on the left with Autodesk’s
3ds Max software but other programs are available. (See also
page 163 and 212 of Analysing Architecture: the Universal
Language of Place-Making). An example is the extensive
‘veil’ of structure that shrouds the Yas Marina Hotel (Asymtote
Architecture, 2009, below) at the Abu Dhabi Formula One motor
racing circuit and looks so dramatic on television coverage as
night falls over a grand prix.

C O M PU T E R- G E N E R AT E D FO R M

Complex geometry can be generated using computers. This The generation of complex forms by means of com-
is something that is impossible with your blocks; it requires puter software is an application of mathematical formulae.
sophisticated resources to achieve in any real materials. It As such it might be considered a form of ideal geometry. It
involves the use of computer software to generate complex infinitely expands the repertoire of mathematically defined
(generally curved) forms that would be difficult if not impos- form. Fascination with the square, circle, Golden Section
sible to achieve by other means. (Whether or not this is ‘a rectangle... is eclipsed by the ability to produce a promiscuity
good thing’ remains a live debate ten years after I first wrote of forms that can emulate the complex curves of a breaking
those words.) It can produce sensational buildings. It can ocean wave, a sea shell, wrinkled fabric, the pseudopodia of
be criticised as reducing architecture to sculpture in prior- an amoeba... It aspires (again) to the apparently geometric
itising sculptural three-dimensional form over sensible and authority of Nature. But now Nature is not seen in terms of
poetic building for inhabitation. It can be very expensive to circles, ellipses, squares, Golden Section rectangles... but
achieve; which, for some clients, is evidence of their wealth of more complex dynamic formulae: vector, parametric and
and status, and of how much they want to grab attention in fractal, rather than Euclidean geometries.
the media. In my Building Design magazine (Friday May 6, The possibilities of computer-generated form chal-
2011) I found (and it saved me having to find more academic lenge (or perhaps redefine) the geometry of making in that,
substantiation) the following: generally, every component piece from which resultant com-
‘At long last, Frank Gehry famously declared some 20 plex curved forms are constructed is different from every
years ago as he introduced his flamboyant new plasticity, other. Rather than using standard parts (such as the brick or
we can, with the aid of the computer, build any form in any rectangular sheet of glass) each has to be made individually
shape we can imagine. To which Cedric Price rejoined: and precisely, and carefully labelled so that it can be put in
why should we build any form or shape we do not need?’ the right position in the jigsaw of the final building.
(Which is a bit like asking mountaineers why they climb Computer-generated form also leads onto the possi-
mountains.) bility of 3d-printed building – a method of building complex
Even in my desktop publishing software there is a forms by building up layers of material… rather like termites
menu item labelled ‘Pen Tool’ with which I can doodle com- building their mounds of mud. Below is a 3d-printed house
plex curved shapes… and then distort as I wish: by architects Wimberly, Allison, Tong & Goo (WATG).

Curve Appeal House, WATG, 2016

See also Curve, in the Analysing Architecture Notebook series.

C O M P U T E R - G E N E R AT E D F O R M 161
T H I N K I N G I N G E O M E T RY

Asked what medium you think in, you might answer, ‘words’.
It feels that way as I write these sentences. I frame what I
want to say with the words that I am typing onto this page.
But it does not take many examples to make you realise that
words are not the origin of thoughts; they are a medium for
expressing them. Thought is deeper than words.
One of those examples is the mouse on my desk. My
hand does not ask my mind to tell it in words how to move
the mouse. Another is the movement of my fingers across
the keyboard. Though they are involved in the production of
words on the page, they do not ask for verbal instructions
as to where to go to conjure up each letter and space. A
third example: later, I shall walk to the shop; not once shall
I tell myself to open the door, instruct my feet how to walk,
nor even think consciously in words about the route. And
then, at lunchtime, I shall set ‘places’ whilst thinking about
something completely different. (Such as, what do I want to
say next in this book I’m writing?) Then I shall sit at the table
without telling myself ‘Simon, sit on the chair’.
All these examples remind us that there is a deeper
more intuitive level of thinking than that expressed in ver-
bal language. And it concerns space, movement, settling. It
concerns relationships with place. And (as you would expect
me to say) place is the primary concern of architecture.
How then do we manage, mould, give form to space
and place? We do not do it, on the primal–timeless level at
least, with words. It is plausible to suggest we were doing
architecture before we developed verbal language; though
as Vitruvius suggested (see page 5), the genesis of both
may have been linked. But to try to do architecture with
words would be like cooking with song. As an architect you
need to bring the ‘pre-verbal’ way of giving sense to the
world to the fore; to think in relationships before semantics.
The medium in which we think architecturally, at that
pre-verbal level, is geometry in its variety of guises. This
Section has asked you to explore the different sorts of geom-
etry that inform architecture. They range from: that original
circle of place we all carry around with us; through relation-
ship with content and context; patterns of relating to others;
measuring distance and size with our bodies; sighting with
our eyes; making things in ways conditioned by the materials
we use… We might want to impose a regularity we think of
as neat and right, i.e. the ideal geometry of straight lines,
circles, squares… We might even want to distort or break
geometry, or create conflict between its different kinds. Asplund’s Woodland Chapel shows how different kinds of
In architecture, the different kinds of geometry do not geometry – ‘of being’ and ‘ideal’ – work together in architecture.
exist separately. They blend, overlap, interact with each other. I leave you to identify as many of them as you can. Referring back
to the preceding pages will help. They certainly include these
In the preceding pages, I have chosen examples in which
geometries of being: circle of place; six-directions-and-centre;
particular kinds of geometry can be more clearly appreci- lines of sight and passage; social geometry; measuring; geometry
ated, but you will also have noticed that I have sometimes of making; doorway axis; focus. They also include the ideal
used the same example (e.g. Asplund’s Woodland Chapel, geometry of: sphere; square; pyramid; grid; axis of symmetry;
right) to discuss more than one. axis mundi (vertical axis). There are also distinct geometric
Different architects tend to prefer different kinds of relationships with context: alignment with the setting sun; the
geometry. Some bring out the ideal geometry of squares, counterpoint between the axial symmetry of the building’s layout
circles etc. Others are more interested in one or more of the and the irregular (natural) disposition of the pine trees. There is a
conflict too: between the geometry of making of the roof and the
geometries of being: human or social geometry perhaps; or
ideal geometry of the hemispherical cupola ceiling. The complex
the geometry of making. But although they may be pushed curved geometries made possible by computer software are not
and shoved in and out of obscurity, the different kinds of present; but all those that are collaborate in identifying the place
geometry explored in the preceding pages are present to of a child’s funeral service – producing a chord of orchestrated
some extent in all works of architecture. geometries, an architectural poem.

162
 SEC T ION T HR EE
out into t he rea l world
163
SECTION THR EE – out into the real world

T he primary challenge faced by those who wish to become

architects – to think as architects – is to be able to project
their imagination into the reality of what is being proposed. It
This third set of exercises will take you away from that
special isolated world: that was the board on which you built
models with your children’s wooden blocks; that is the sheet
is a difficult thing to do. And there are plenty of buildings in of paper on a drawing board; or the cyberspace of computer
the world that suggest that even established architects don’t software. The following exercises ask you to go out into the
always succeed. (I won’t give specific examples.) real world where buildings are generally intended to be and
Projecting the imagination into the reality of what is where those other factors come into play.
being proposed involves many factors that are difficult or It is rare for student architects to be able to build their
impossible to fully comprehend in the abstract media that designs. For the most part, throughout school of architecture,
architects (have to*) use for design: pencil and paper; com- students must work in abstract, producing drawings and
puter software; even physical models. Those factors include models at scales generally smaller than reality. Building is too
(in no particular order): expensive an activity, beset by regulations and the need for
• topography – what is the actual shape and nature permissions and dependent on skilled building contractors, to
of the ground, in detail… how do trees and their do otherwise. Student painters paint their paintings. Student
roots affect what will be built, is there something sculptors sculpt their sculptures. Student writers write their
underground that will come as a nasty surprise when novels. Even student composers can organise their colleagues
contractors start excavating…? into an orchestra to perform their music. But it is very hard,
• weather – what sorts of wind, rain and sun will generally impossible, for student architects to see their own
impinge on my building… how will they affect its designs made into real buildings. As the projects set in the
physical fabric, the comfort and security of the school’s studio start to become more complex and deal in
environment inside, its aesthetic enjoyment…? designs intended to be considered as permanent, the possi-
• scale – how big is my building actually going to be… bility becomes less and less likely. But right at the beginning
in relation to the size of people, to the setting, to other of a course in architecture, when things remain relatively
buildings…?; rudimentary, there is a privileged moment when it is pos-
• materials – are they appropriate, in themselves and sible to find time to experience the excitement of changing
in combination… how do they fit together, how will the world (a small part of it at least) by making a real work of
they perform, will they be strong enough, waterproof, architecture, even if it is only temporary and at a modest scale.
will they store warmth, keep out/in heat…?; (Of course this is a privileged moment that may be repeated
• people – how big are they and how do they move… over and over again throughout your career, each time you
how will they actually use the building I design for go to the beach or out onto the hills... each time you begin to
them… will it accommodate their activities appropri- think how to respond to a project.)
ately, are they likely to use it in ways different from Making places in the real world exercises and develops
those I expect…?) your command of the language of architecture consciously (as
In the bubble of abstraction it is easy to lose sight of distinct from the unselfconscious ways you did it when you
any or all of these factors, to become wrapped up in the were young). It makes you aware of the challenges and poten-
intellectual adventure of the hermetic design acted out on the tial of the real world – topography, weather, scale, materials,
isolated and unreal stage of the sheet of paper or the other side people – in ways that you will recall when later designing (as
of a computer screen. And sometimes the built results can be you will necessarily have to) in abstract.
powerful, even generally admired… despite their indifference One important caveat… Architecture, even at a
to the factors listed above. Even so, I hope you feel that you small scale, is political and subject to laws. Make sure
would become a better architect than otherwise by acknowl- when doing these exercises that you are not going to
edging and taking into account the real world in which your annoy someone, not trespass on their property, not
design is intended to live. obstruct their lives or put anyone in danger… These
things are as important when doing ephemeral exer-
* Generally the production of works of architecture is so expensive that cises as when making permanent buildings subject
they have to be designed, thoroughly, in abstract before construction to planning and building laws. Where appropriate,
commences. It is rare that an architect can work directly on a site, and
certainly not with large projects. ask permission. Always be considerate.

164
E X ERCISE 13: ma k i ng plac e s i n t he la nd sc ape

This exercise has more dimensions and subtleties to it than E X E RC I SE 1 3 a – preparation

you might at first think. It introduces many aspects of archi-
tecture that remain relevant and retain their potential even in There are lots of things to think about in relation to this
the most sophisticated and large-scale work. Though intended exercise. Before you start, bear in mind the following:
for the real world, most architecture is designed in abstract • you may go wherever you wish to do these exercises –
through drawings and models (on the drawing table or the to the beach, into the woods, out onto the moors, up
computer) but in this exercise you will work in reality, on real trees or rock faces... or just into your back garden or
sites with real materials, making real places. And that means yard; (wherever you go, make sure you are not tres-
that you can respond more sensitively (than when working passing on someone else’s property; ask permission
in abstract) to the particularities of the context within which if you need to); if you cannot go anywhere, try doing
you are working: its topography (the lie of the land, bodies of the exercise inside, or in your imagination (after all,
water, prospects, the horizon...); prevailing conditions (breezes, that’s where architecture primarily happens) but
the sun, ground conditions...); available resources (materials it is much better to work with a real situation, real
for building, help from others); things that are already there conditions, real materials;
(natural or made by other people, nearby or remote); and, of • an early decision in any architectural project (except
course, the probable requirement to accommodate the real when a site is predetermined and constricted) is to
form of the human being – yourself, some friends… It also decide on where to make your place – in open space,
means that you will have to deal with those things as difficul- under a tree, against a rock or wall, beside a stream...;
ties too… something you can easily (too easily) ignore/dismiss this involves recognising potential; your decision on
when working in abstract. location will have important consequences, possibil-
It is a ‘no-brainer’ that response to and interaction ities as well as problems; think about how your place
with these particularities enriches architecture. Taking them will relate to its context, benefit from views, shelter,
into account, exploiting them, celebrating them, will prevent support, defined access (i.e. a controllable way in and
your architecture being contained in its own hermetically out)...;
sealed conceptual world. It will also mean (in ways that are • think carefully and imaginatively about how you
difficult on paper or screen) that the accommodated person might use things that are already there (not that you
is treated, not as a mere spectator, but as a vital ingredient necessarily have to, but it would be a shame to miss
of your architecture. an opportunity); you might be able to use that tree
None of this means you do not need to bring your own for shade, that rock as an anchor for your place or as
ideas to bear. In fact, that need to ‘have an idea’ remains at a seat or altar, that wall as a support for a sheltering
the core of the challenge. It is just that there will be less ten- roof, the stream for water and for cooling your feet...;
dency for your idea to remain an abstract conceit because it • another important early decision is to decide on
has to be modified, adapted, enriched by rubbing up against the intended content of your new place – the brief
the realities of the world around. or program for your project; will it be for your own
It is of course also enjoyable to spend time outdoors occupation or do you want it to accommodate a spe-
rather than squinting at a screen. cific ‘possession’ (your dog, partner, a work of art, a

E X ERCIS E 13: mak ing plac e s in t he landsc ape 165

 ‘god’ of some sort...) or frame a particular activity but as an architect ideas are your primary, and
(cooking and eating a meal, playing a game, perform- essential, stock in trade;
ing some sort of ceremony or ritual, telling a story, • enjoy the power (and thrill) of changing the world
singing, canoodling...); maybe it will be no more (hopefully for the better); try to make a place that
than a place to sit and look out to sea; remember, the will engage, entertain, maybe impress others;
possibility of occupation is essential to place making; • afterwards, it would probably be best to remove
• you may use any materials available (so long as you your place and return the land to how it was; but if
do not cause criminal damage, kill living trees or, you do not have to do this straight away, watch how
without permission, take anything that belongs to others respond to your place, maybe using it (as you
someone else); if you wish, you might also take some intended?), maybe skirting around it suspicious of
ready-made components with you – string, rope, a its powers, maybe adapting it, maybe destroying
blanket or beach towel, a wind-break, a small tent...; it...; maybe indicating some admiration by taking a
or you might decide to make a place using only photograph of it;
materials you find at your location; • reflect on your own feelings when dismantling your
• you may also take tools with you; if you had the use place (I was once told of a scout who wept when the
of a mechanical excavator then you would be able to camp in which he had lived for a week was struck);
dig bigger holes than with your bare hands(!)... but sometimes, with devilment, we delight in destroying
generally speaking a knife and small spade should a place, perhaps wanting to deny others the enjoy-
be sufficient; remember that this project is not about ment of it or to wipe away the guilt of a hubristic
doing irreversible damage; affront to the world (though having the audacity to
• place-making can involve taking away as well as change the world is essential to being an architect).
adding, excavation as well as construction; it might
involve digging a shallow pit in the sand or clearing W H AT YOU C OU L D L E A R N…
the ground of twigs and stones;
• your task is to make a real place, not a model of one The chief aim of this task is to ask your imagination to engage
(such as a sand castle, a sand dolls house, or a sand in the primary purpose of all architecture: to identify place
motorway interchange...); (identify in two senses – recognise and create). It asks you
• be neither too ambitious nor too modest in your to do this in reality (rather than in abstract or through the
aspiration; some of the most powerful places in the medium of drawing or modelling). It prompts you to make real
landscape are simple – a standing stone or a circle (if ephemeral) works of architecture. This is made possible by
of them, a cave, a platform at the edge of a precipice, asking you to do it in a temporary way, on common or freely
the shade of a tree...; quality is not a direct corollary available land using materials ready to hand; that is, it does
of complexity; if you want to make simple places not require formal permissions and will not be prohibitively
that do not involve much time then make a number expensive. It involves response to real conditions: the sun,
of them; but also take time to reflect on their power weather, topography (the lie of the land), the horizon, exist-
in the landscape; think about what they do for and ing features in the landscape, and other creatures (including
to you as their perpetrator and occupant; yourself, other people, maybe a dog). This exercise also asks
• think about what you are going to do before you you to think carefully about how your place accommodates
start; this is called ‘having an idea’, and remember its content: the person (or dog), a possession, activity, mood...
that ideas are the seeds from which architecture that it will frame. Even though the exercise may lean towards
develops; but also be prepared to modify your idea the production of relatively small scale places with unso-
(for the better) in response to things that happen phisticated construction, their presence might nevertheless
or impinge on your place as you make it; that does stretch far and wide. The exercise allows exploration of many
not mean that you should just give it up when you of the subtle dimensions and factors that come into play in
encounter problems; architecture.
• making places always depends on ideas; you have What you do is also likely to linger long in your memory.
to provide (generate, borrow, steal…) them; no one As a studio tutor in architecture school I led projects like this
knows where ideas might be found (often they come many times. Meeting students years later, it is common that
from your memory, which needs constantly to be they remember what they did as a fresher on the beach, when
restocked by being aware of what others have done); they first consciously made a work of architecture.

166
an object – a large piece of charred driftwood – occupying its place a frame making a place, that may itself be occupied

PL AC E AS FR A M E

The beach, if you can get to one, is a particularly good loca- is crucial to being an architect. Architecture is not just about
tion for the place-making exercise. There, you are less likely making something that will occupy a place. It is essential
to upset and annoy anyone. By the sea there is space and that it makes a place… a place that may be occupied… by
freedom. The beach is a blank canvas; though if there are a person, a possession, an activity, maybe even just a spirit
dunes and rocks, caves and cliffs, there will also be features or feeling. But to the making of a place this sense of fram-
to which you might relate your project. And of course there ing (rather than just being framed… as in a photograph) is
are always the ocean and horizon. And afterwards, the tide essential.
will wash away what you have done… Here are a few simple examples to illustrate the dif-
All things are in a place but not all things make a place. ference. Remember that places can be dynamic – to move
In this exercise it is important to understand the difference. It through (below) – as well as static – to settle in (above).

A line of stones can be intriguing. It draws the eye towards the sea … but it is when there are two parallel lines of stones that they
and the infinitely distant, ever-receding horizon… become a place – a pathway along which to walk towards the sea.

PLACE AS FR AME 167

E X E RC I SE 1 3b – identify place by choice and occupation There are many instances – in history, mythology, fiction… –
where place-making has begun with place-recognition. A decision
on the establishment of a place might be delegated to the flight
At its most rudimentary, doing architecture need not involve of an arrow, where a bird alights, where a log thrown from ship
building anything at all. Architecture begins with occupation; makes landfall… Particular locations might seem to possess some
atmosphere, some sense of spiritual presence, that leads to them
and occupation is usually preceded by recognition. You iden- being declared ‘sacred’. And, at a personal level, when out for
tify a place just by being there. In the woods you recognise a a walk and wanting a rest, you almost mindlessly assess where
might be a good place to sit for a while… This process can be the
particular tree as a good place to sit in shade; on the beach you seed from which architecture – more established and permanent
find a rock that looks reasonably comfortable to sit on. Scale architecture – grows.
this process up, and if and when you have the privilege, you
In some cases people have delegated decisions about locating a
have the process by which you might choose where to build place to chance:
yourself (or someone else) a house. ‘The story tells that in 1016 (St Walston) knew he was about to
die, and after praying that God would bless the spot where
Wherever you are, out in the landscape, survey your he should be laid he directed that his body should be drawn
surroundings and choose a place to put yourself. in a cart by the two oxen his master had given him, and that
he should be buried wherever they stopped. So it came to
If you find it difficult to decide where to put yourself, one
pass. He died in the hayfield. As the oxen wandered through
way is to use chance (which has been used in decisions about the Costessey Wood, they halted a while and a spring gushed
place-making since ancient times). Chance might include from the ground; continuing their journey till they reached
Bawburgh and halted near his home, where another spring
throwing something and seeing where it lands, watching to see came into life; a little way off they came to rest, and there the
where a particular bird perches, watching a toddler walking labourers buried the saint and built a shrine.’
Arthur Mee, ed. – The King’s England: Norfolk, Green Pastures and Still
along and seeing where it falls down... and then making your Waters, 1940.
place there. Doing this, chance will make your decision for
Thomas Mann evokes the way in which a place – a work of
you but it will also set you challenges (especially if that bird architecture – can derive from the presence and shelter offered by
perches high in a tree or half way up a cliff, or settles out at sea, a ‘mighty’ tree:
‘It was beyond the hills north of Hebron, a little east of the
or that toddler stumbles in a rock pool); you must, however,
Jerusalem road, in the month Adah; a spring evening, so
stick to your principle of following chance. brightly moonlit that one could have seen to read, and the
Alternatively, you might take care in deciding where to leaves of the single tree there standing, an ancient and
mighty terebinth, short-trunked, with strong and spreading
put yourself, analysing the advantages and disadvantages of branches, stood out fine and sharp against the light, beside
a range of possibilities. While doing this, allow ideas to arise their clusters of blossom – highly distinct, yet shimmering in
a web of moonlight. This beautiful tree was sacred. In more
in your mind about what you might do in this place even if than one way enlightenment was to be had within its shadow:
it is only to sit and read a book; though you might equally from the mouth of man, for whoever through personal
choose it as a place to count passers-by or to perform some experience had aught to communicate of the divine would
gather hearers together under its branches; but likewise in
sort of ceremony; you might want it as a place to lay ambush more inspired manner. For persons who slept leaning their
to a friend or to have an intimate conversation. heads against the trunk had repeatedly been vouchsafed
dispensations and commands in a dream; and at the offering
Wherever you choose, the activity you will perform of burnt sacrifices, the frequency of which was witnessed
(however passive) will (should) influence your choice; differ- by the stone slaughtering table, where a low fire burned on
ent activities require different circumstances. the blackened slab, the behaviour of the smoke, the flight
of birds, or even a sign from heaven itself had often, in the
In doing this task, you are doing something you have course of the years, proved that a peculiar efficacy lay in
done unselfconsciously many times before; but this time be these pious doings at the foot of the tree.’
Thomas Mann, trans. H.T. Lowe-Porter – Joseph and His Brothers: The
conscious of what you are doing and how you are making Tales of Jacob (1933), 1970.
your decisions.
Sacred locations are often (usually) recognised as such before
Do not, for the moment, modify your place in any way; being made into places:
though you might begin to think how you might add or take ‘OEDIPUS: Tell me Antigone – where have you come to now
with your blind old father? What is this place, my child?… Is
away something to make it more comfortable or to enable you there a resting-place, my child, where I could sit…
to perform your chosen activity more effectively. You have ANTIGONE: Dear father… there is a seat of natural rock. Sit
down and rest…
already begun to do architecture just by choosing your place,
OEDIPUS: Now… can you tell me where we have come to?…
weighing up factors that influence your decision. Beginning to ANTIGONE: Shall I go and ask someone what place it is?…
think about how you might modify it takes you to the second A COUNTRYMAN of Colonus enters…
OEDIPUS: Stranger, my daughter, whose eyes are mine and
stage of doing architecture (often thought of as the first) – i.e. hers, tells me there is someone here who can answer our
having ideas about how you might physically change the world questions.
COUNTRYMAN: Sir, before you ask me any question, come
(a small part of it) to accommodate yourself, possessions,
from that seat. That place is holy ground…’
activity, spirit… according to needs and desires. Sophocles, trans. E.F. Watling – Oedipus at Colonus (5thC BCE), 1947.

168
I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : plac e -ma k i ng by re c og n it ion

1 2 3 4 5 6

Draw some examples (from experience, memory and imagi- happened. Each can be the seed from which more developed
nation) of places identified by choice and occupation. At some and more permanent architecture could grow.
time of your life you have probably sat in the shade under a You might want to find a place where you can perform.
tree (1). You have probably also stood on the highest point of The theatre director Peter Brook and his company have put
a rock, maybe chanting, ‘I’m the king of the castle!’ (2). You on performances in informal venues around the world. He
might have sat in a rock pool splashing the water (3) or nestled describes how these are chosen:
into a cave to shelter from rain and wind or hide from friends ‘With a simple pragmatism (which is the basis of
(4). Perhaps you have climbed to a high branch to survey the everything) we would look around and see that in one
land around or just out of bravado (5), or carefully threaded place there are some nice trees or a tree where the
a path stepping from rock to rock across a stream (6). These villagers normally gather; or there’d be another place
are all examples of identifying place by choice and occupa- that’s exposed with a breeze. In one place the soil is
tion. They are all examples of you exercising your capacity for bumpy; in another it’s flat. In one place there’s a little
architecture – place identification – at its most rudimentary. clearing with earth that rises to the sides in a natural
You would be satisfying Exercise 13b by doing any of amphitheatre so more people can see... Spatially speak-
the above but perhaps there are other opportunities. Maybe ing, one is here touching on things that every architect
you just want to settle adjacent to a rock that has presence in should experience for himself, which is finding what is
the landscape (7), feeling its companionship or using it as an conducive; this conducts and that doesn’t.’ *
anchor – i.e. next to it you feel you are in a specific place, not Sensitivity to the ‘conducive’ has been part of our rela-
just floating in the anywhere. You might hide in crevice in a tionship with the landscape since ancient times.
rock face to get out of sight of others (8), maybe to change into When doing your sketches of found/recognised places,
your swimming costume. You might find two rocks you can start to think about, and sketch alongside (with notes), ideas
sit between (9) – you might be able to stretch a towel across for how you might make them better suited to the purpose
them for shade – or two trees that make a doorway (10) to you have in mind for them. This might be as little as laying a
use as the entrance to your place. You might find a clearing towel on a rock to make it a more comfortable seat, clearing a
in the woods (11) that feels like a room. You do not need to do performance area of stones so that your actors are less likely
anything to these. As soon as you see them (recognise them as to stumble, or stretching that towel across the rocks for shade.
places) and then occupy them (even if only in your mind) they You might improve the room/clearing you find in the woods
become places. The moment of architectural initiation has by making a hearth and fire at its centre…

7 8 9 10 11

* Peter Brook, quoted in Andrew Todd and Jean-Guy Lecat – The Open See also pages 75 and 295 of Analysing Architecture: the Universal
Circle, 2003. Language of Place-Making.

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: plac e - making by rec ognition 169

DUNINO DEN river gorge edged with cliffs. You can imagine ceremonies
being conducted from the top of the promontory, witnessed
Found locations like Dunino Den in Scotland have been by a congregation of people on the flat area alongside the
used for sacred ceremonies possibly for hundreds or even winding river below. Over the years, religious symbols have
thousands of years. Its topography is theatrical. A rocky been carved into the rocky walls of the gorge. There is also
promontory – a natural pulpit – presides over a wooded a Clootie tree hung with wishes, prayers, pleas…

section

river

Clootie tree
promontory

congregation

river

See also page 295 of Analysing Architecture: the Universal Language of

plan Place-Making.

170
PRO S PECT A N D R E FUG E; R E FUG E A N D A R E N A Hidden in the shade of a lakeside forest your arena
is the expanse of water: the shimmer of sunlight; the fish
In his book The Experience of Landscape (1975) Jay Apple- jumping; sail boats scudding… Imagine creating a lakeside
ton quotes the Austrian zoologist Konrad Lorenz: retreat in those woods for a poet. Would you give her a win-
‘We are taking a walk in the forest... We approach a dow so that she could occasionally glance from the refuge
forest glade... We now tread slowly and more carefully. of her desk out across that prospect?
Before we break through the last bushes and out of Fortresses and castles are almost always refuges with
cover on to the free expanse of the meadow, we do what prospects over the surrounding countryside. We think we
all wild animals and all good naturalists, wild boars, want a home with a view of the world around. We feel more
leopards, hunters and zoologists would do under similar comfortable if we can see from inside our refuge who might
circumstances: we reconnoitre, seeking, before we leave be approaching our front door: friend of foe? The idea of
our cover, to gain from it the advantage which it can offer refuge, preferably one with a view, is deeply embedded in
alike to hunter and hunted – namely to see without being our psyche and desire for security.
seen.’ But be careful with refuges; they might be used by
You might consider this when selecting your place. miscreants watching out for their next victim. Muggers (and
Inside a cave looking out... spies) hide in dark doorways and behind bushes.

... you are hidden but can watch what happens on the arena You are in a ‘prospect–refuge/refuge–arena’ configuration when
of the world outside. Sitting in a cave you have the security sitting in a Parisian café watching life passing by as you drink
of your refuge and the advantage of a prospect, so you can your coffee or pastis. It is a two-way configuration. You are in
seen anyone – enemy or friend – approaching. that configuration too as you pass by with your arm around your
lover. Such is the theatre of a city street. Be conscious of such
It is as if your relationship with place is an expansion
configurations and how you might use them in your place-making.
of the relationship between the inside of your head and the
world. The place you choose to occupy in the landscape is
like an extra skull, into which you can withdraw for protec- See also the chapter on ‘Refuge and Prospect’ in Analysing Architecture:
tion. Its doorway or window are your eyes. the Universal Language of Place-Making.

PROSPECT AND REFUGE; REFUGE AND ARENA 171

R E L AT I O N S H I P W I T H T H E H O R I Z O N

In assessing and choosing your place you might also like

to consider this from the Norwegian architect Sverre Fehn:
‘My interest has always been where to put man in rela-
tion to the horizon in a built environment... Everything we
build must be adjusted in relation to the ground, thus the
horizon becomes an important aspect of architecture...
Where between heaven and earth do I place people?’*
Places have very different characters and potentials
depending on their relationship with the surface of the
ground, which also implies a relationship with the horizon.

Think about the different relationships these beach places have

with the ground and horizon. Don’t try to decide which is ‘best’.
Consider more the feelings associated with being in these
different situations… and how they might affect your architecture.

In this drawing you can see some of the many alter-

natives. Standing, sitting or lying down you have a different
relationship with the ground. You probably know what it
feels like to stand on the edge of a high precipice but may-
be not at the bottom of a deep shaft. Each obviously has
a different relationship with the normal/benchmark ground
level. In one situation you can see far and wide, to the dis-
tant horizon. In the other you can see nothing of the world
around, just (hopefully) a patch of blue sky far above. But
maybe your situation is even more claustrophobic: in a tun-
nel; or (hopefully not) in a grave. In a cave with an open
mouth you are in that refuge with a prospect. More dramatic
relationships might be: from a zip wire; on a rope bridge
strung across a cavern; bungee jumping…
Think too about the more subtle relationships you
might create with the ground. Even a low platform/dais can
alter how you feel. Maybe it will make you feel superior to
those around. Maybe it will prompt you to make a speech.
Similarly a shallow depression/pit can suggest a dif-
ferent relationship with your surroundings. Maybe it will, if
you are perhaps sitting on the edge, make you feel more
introverted, reflective… If there is a group sitting around the
edge of pit maybe they will feel more communal, more open
to discussion…
Most houses have ground floors slightly above the
surrounding ground level. You will notice, maybe sublimi-
nally, if you go into a windowed room and the ground level
outside is level with or higher than that inside. The subtle
difference alters the character of the room.
Differences in relationships with the ground/horizon
can have powerful effects. Think about them when making
your place in the landscape.

* Sverre Fehn, quoted and trans. in Fjeld – Sverre Fehn: The See also Children as Place-Makers, in the Analysing Architecture
Pattern of Thoughts, 2009. Notebook series.

172
PL AC E A N D M E M O RY ‘At a banquet given by a nobleman of Thessaly named
Scopas, the poet Simonides of Ceos chanted a lyric poem in
In our minds, places are repositories of memory. honour of his host but included a passage in praise of Castor
and Pollux. Scopas meanly told the poet that he would only
At the beginning of her book on The Art of Memory
pay him half the sum agreed upon for the panegyric and
(1966), Frances A. Yates recounts the tale of Simonides of that he must obtain the balance from the twin gods to whom
Ceos, thought to be the inventor of a mnemonic technique he had devoted half the poem. A little later, a message was
(right) which draws on the power of place to order and prompt brought into Simonides that two young men were waiting
memory. Simonides identifies the victims of a collapsed roof outside who wished to see him. He rose from the banquet
by remembering their places at a dinner table. and went out but could find no one. During his absence the
But place has more than one relationship with memory. roof of the banqueting hall fell in, crushing Scopas and all
Tracing a route through the rooms of an imaginary palace the guests to death beneath the ruins; the corpses were
so mangled that the relatives who came to take them away
can help politicians recall the points they want to make in
for burial were unable to identify them. But Simonides
their speeches. But that mnemonic technique draws on our remembered the places at which they had been sitting at the
relationship between architecture – the ‘language’ by which table and was therefore able to indicate to the relatives which
we give spatial sense to the world – and memory. It alludes were their dead. The invisible callers, Castor and Pollux, had
to the importance to our safety of not getting lost as we wan- handsomely paid for their share in the panegyric by drawing
der the world. Simonides away from the banquet just before the crash. And
Architecture, place and memory are bound closely this experience suggested to the poet the principles of the
together. We are reminded of events by the traces they leave art of memory of which he is said to have been the inventor.
Noting that it was through his memory of the places at which
behind. And if those traces are ephemeral we might give the
the guests had been sitting that he had been able to identify
event more permanence with a memorial that marks, iden- the bodies, he realized that orderly arrangement is essential
tifies, its place. We do this personally and, communally. We for good memory.’
do it culturally too: e.g. with war memorials. Frances Yates – The Art of Memory, 1966.
Places may be identified merely by use. Sheep cross-
ing hillsides (or cats lawns) establish clear pathways. In the The ancient story of Simonides’ discovery/invention of his
Scottish university town of St Andrews, men would light mnemonic technique illustrates how powerful our subliminal
their pipes striking matches on the stone door-jambs of their engagement with place is. He did not, before the catastrophe,
consciously strive to remember where people were sitting. He just
lodgings. The black slashes of sulphur remain, as reminders did. He then realised that this intuitive human capacity could be
evoking gabardine coats, fedora hats and clouds of smoke. used to remember other things by associating them with places –
A patch of blood on a pavement marks the scene of a mur- for example, a politician could associate the sequential rhetorical
der; which might be further architecturalised with a police topics of a speech with the imagined rooms of a known house.
officer’s chalk outline of the body.
In a 2009 film about his origins, the artist Miroslaw
Balka shows a small patch of worn floor in his grandmother’s
house. It is where she sat to pray every day.* Balka calls it
a ‘trace’. It was his grandmother’s chapel and is now her
shrine. It identifies a place redolent for Balka with the mem-
ory of his grandmother.
Some places are global memorials. The Dome of the
Rock (for Muslims) and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre
(for Christians) in Jerusalem. The Atomic Bomb Dome in
Hiroshima. The September 11 Memorial in New York. The
Bodhi Tree in Bodh Gaya, India (where Buddha is said to
have gained enlightenment). The hole in the floor of the
undercroft of Bramante’s Tempietto in Rome (thought to have
been the location of St Peter’s upside-down crucifixion).
There are many examples. All cultures cherish histor-
ical events by memorialising places. You might like to think
of some that are personal to you… some that might be the
seed of the place you make in this exercise. Maybe you
remember the place of an accident, where you fell off your
bike, broke your arm…? Maybe you recall the location of
your first kiss…; or where you were first ‘dumped’ by a boy
or girlfriend? Maybe your family would always set up camp
in the same rocky niche at the beach, or light a campfire
and cook lunch in the same dell in the woods. All these are We might light a candle as a memory of our presence in a church
or temple. Or carve our initials into the bark of a tree, or leave a
places already, and as such constitute architecture in your
hand print or pigment silhouette on the wall of a cave… All invest
memory at least. But you might think how you could make a place with the memory of our presence there.
others aware of the significance of these places by giving
them some form of architectural identification. You could
* There is a commentary by Brian Dillon on the film at:
just right a label, a sign identifying the place. A more subtle tate.org.uk/tate-etc/issue-17-autumn-2009/stories-continuous-past
response might not be so easy. (January 2022).

PLACE AND MEMORY 173

 After Charles P. Mountford – Ayer’s Rock (1965), 1977.

U LU R U (AY E R ’ S RO C K ) that superimpose a personal map of sense on the bare phys-

ical environment. Such maps of sense, whether personal or
Ascribing meaning to places in the landscape is essential cultural, are important in architecture. They are significant in
to the way we make sense of the world in which we live. We that they derive from our capacity, and existential need, to
choose places to sit, to hide, to sleep... according to crite- identify place and to associate ourselves with them. We all
ria of comfort, shelter, security... Such places also acquire spin our own personal songlines across the world in which
meaning through memory. On revisiting a beach we might we live. In themselves they constitute an architecture. But
remember the particular rock on which we sat warming in sometimes we give them physical memorial form too.
the sun or the cave in which we hid when playing hide-and-
seek. Places might acquire meaning through association
with history – that is where so-and-so made that speech,
was assassinated, killed in an air crash... – or with myth.
Traditional Australian aborigine culture has an intimate
relationship with the landscape. It constructs little in the way
of built architecture. The architecture it does make consists
almost wholly of ascribing meaning to specific places in the
landscape. At Uluru (Ayer’s Rock), for example, there are
hundreds of specific places, each of which is associated with
the timeless memory of a particular mythical event. (Some
of them are noted in the drawing above.) This ascription of
meanings to places makes this massive red rock the aborig-
ine equivalent of one of the great cathedrals of Europe.
Traditional aborigine culture gives sense to the wider
landscape in similar ways. By the memory of a web of ‘song-
lines’ spun in the indeterminate past, aborigine people tell
stories of mythological events in the Dreamtime. These hold
the landscape together and make sense of it for generation
after generation. The songlines give identity to places and
their narrative relationships.
Each of us does the same sort of thing in the neigh-
bourhood where we live, where we grew up... We can each
tell stories that involve specific places and spin into stories

174
E X E RC I SE 1 3 c – begin to make your place better

You have selected a spot that you recognise as a place. Maybe

you can inhabit it, occupy it and in some (maybe slight) way
feel ‘at home’ in it. Now begin to amend it. Do something to
it that will make it better, more in accord with your practical
needs or more interesting, engaging or beautiful.
You might set up camp with chairs, towels and perhaps
a wind break in or at the mouth of the crevice in the rocks (1)
identifying it as a place and implying that, like a snail with
its shell, you might withdraw into it for security (or just to
change into your swimming costume).
You might line the ground between the twin rocks with
towels to make it more comfortable and plant a parasol to
shade you from the sun (2). By doing so you have made yourself
a small house using the parallel walls of the stones.
On a cool evening you might build a fire in the centre 1
of that rocky clearing (3). It becomes a place to cook food and
talk or sing songs. The hearth is its focus. The trees and rocky
outcrops are its walls, on which the firelight flickers. You and
your friends inhabit it as a room.
At Dunino Den (4 and on page 170), a circular basin
was carefully cut into the top of the rocky promontory – the
‘pulpit’. This was presumably to be used in the performance
of rituals, maybe baptisms. Alongside the basin is carved
what appears to be a footprint. This seems to identify the
place where the officiating priest stood, literally planted into
the living rock.
Architectural amendment of a found place is a matter
of dialogue, call and response, action and reaction. The
found landscape is interpreted by the architectural mind,
assessed for inhabitation, changes considered, alternatives
explored and then amended according to perceived needs
and desires. This process might be repeated again and again
as assessments evolve and needs change. Essentially, this
process applies at all levels of architectural sophistication. 2

3 4

E X ERCIS E 13: mak ing plac e s in t he landsc ape 175

Senses other than sight

You can intervene in ways other than by physically changing

the fabric of the landscape. You might identify your place,
for example, with sound. The Norwegian architect Sverre
Fehn wrote:
‘Once I visited Greece and during the day I sat under a
tree’ (i.e. Fehn making his own place in the landscape) ‘I
studied a shepherd and his flock.’ (i.e. refuge and arena)
‘I thought, Here is a person who walks in the landscape
with his sound. He finds sound constructions with his
whistle. The man with the instrument had a sound dia-
logue with the landscape. The shepherd found his own
theatre in the landscape.’ *
Fehn went on to evoke the sound of a church bell (and
presumably he could have also cited the muezzin calling the A simple doorway constructed on a beach can have a major
faithful to prayer from a mosque’s minaret) drawing attention effect. It creates a threshold, a fault-line between one place
to its architectural power in identifying place (associating it and another. It can frame a view and define a place to stop. This
doorway, constructed on a Scottish beach some years ago, also
with a particular religion or event). defined the spot at which you became aware of the perfume of
You can also identify a place with smell (or perfume). the pine forests behind. Involved in the real world, architecture
– the universal language of place-making – involves many more
Imagine situations where smell is an important ingredient in senses than merely sight… and not just the bodily senses;
the character of a place. psychological/emotional senses too.

I have set this place-making exercise as a student pro- Think of other ways in which the senses might contrib-
ject in various schools of architecture. On one occasion some ute to your making of a place. Sight is of course the one we
students made their place by constructing a simple doorway usually consider first. Sound and smell are mentioned in the
of three sticks at the highest point of a sand dune. ** examples cited on this page. But could touch and taste also
Approaching it from inland it identified the place at contribute to the identification of a place? And then there
which they first saw a full view of the expanse of sea (top). are those many other senses we have: a sense of the passage
Approaching in the other direction, from the beach, it was the of time; a sense of security and comfort; a sense of fear,
point at which they first became aware of the perfume of the insecurity, trepidation…; a sense of humiliation, of status,
pine forest. The doorway identified the place of an affecting of self-aggrandisement… There are many senses engaged in
threshold. It marked it and framed it with an elemental work our relationships with places. Maybe architects, concentrating
of architecture. on the visual, do not consider them enough?

* Sverre Fehn, quoted and trans. in Fjeld – Sverre Fehn: The Pattern of ** See also page 214. Some images of this beach installation are at:
Thoughts, 2009. instagram.com/analysingarchitecture (posted April 15 2021).

176
E X ERCISE 1 4: ma k i ng plac e s ju st by bei ng

Making a place on open ground presents a new challenge. It You stand there as the seed from which a building (a
begins with assertion rather than recognition. On a recently temple or a house) might grow. The direction in which you
tide-washed open beach you have no topography to relate to. face could become the direction your temple or house would
It is not as if there is nothing: there is still the sun moving face (above). The building would mediate between you and
across the sky; the ocean and the ever-distant horizon; maybe your surroundings; it would also represent your presence
a breeze…; but the making of a place on the flat open smooth and geometry.
sand requires a wilful decision. Dancing on the beach...
The first step is to recognise that you (we) make a place
just by being. Standing on an open beach, like the monk in
Caspar David Friedrich’s painting, ‘The Monk by the Sea’
(1808-10)...

... we establish our own dancing floor (its limits are defined
by our footprints). That place is the forerunner of the orkestra
(the dancing floor of the ancient Greek theatre, set in the land-
scape). It invokes the powerful relationship between people,
activity and landscape.
... you identify a place. And with your own directions (your And by doing something as simple and passive as lying
corporal geometry) you begin to give that place architecture. on the ground you make a place to sleep – a bed.

E X ERCISE 14: making plac es just by being 177

R I C H A R D LO N G

The artist Richard Long has made places in landscapes

around the world.*
Long has made pathways merely by repeatedly walk-
ing along a line (above). As he does, his feet wear the grass
or compact the dust under him leaving a trace of his walking.
The results are tangible memories of his having been there,
treading a particular line over and over again. (Because they
will gradually disappear, he records them in photographs.)
These pathways are also reminiscent of the pathways worn
by sheep as they wander repeatedly along the same routes
across the side of a hill.) Long has also made circles in the
same way, by walking around and around, consistently on
the same line.
Sometimes he makes lines or circles with found stones
or pieces of timber, imposing on them a (nearly) perfect
geometry that only a mind could provide (top right). He has also identified place, created tangible memo-
Sometimes he makes places by absence rather than ries, with his body. On a showery day he may look for a large
presence. He might clear stones from a patch of ground, flat rock. Lying on it, he waits for the rain (below left). As it
leaving a smooth area, which you might interpret as waiting falls he lies motionless. When it stops he stands up to photo-
for a ceremonial performance of some sort (right). graph the dry patch (the rain shadow) left on the rock in the
Some of his works identify place; others deny it by shape of his body (below)… a ‘home’ vacated, a presence
making somewhere that is uninhabitable. lost, a poignant absence.

* Images of Richard Long’s work are at: richardlong.org (October 2021).

178
E X E RC I SE 1 4 a – circle of place By drawing your circle you have identified a place that
did not exist before. (In a small but significant way, you have
As mentioned on page 177, making a place on open featureless changed the world.) Though it is no more than a line in the
ground requires assertion, and assertion depends on having sand, it persists. It continues to represent your presence even
an idea. One of the most direct, and the most powerful of ideas when you leave it. It is the most rudimentary form your ‘home’
is the one we first explored earlier in this book on the bread might take. To make it a proper home you would have to do
board with building blocks – i.e. to draw a circle to define an more; but this is where it starts.
area of ground. So… While you have your circle, experience what it feels
Draw a circle about yourself: like to invite someone else – friend, family, stranger – into
your circle. With a friend (rather than a stranger!) fight to
push them out (as in Sumo wrestling) or to keep them from
entering. Play with your circle… learn about its powers and
the ways in which those powers underpin much of architec-
ture’s territoriality.

You did this with your small person on your board; but
now feel the power of a circle of place that you can inhabit.
Standing or sitting, you might use a piece of driftwood or just
your hands at the end of your arms.
Sense the way the circle frames you and separates you
from the world around. Be aware of the threshold it creates
between inside and outside. Sense the reinforcement of your
individuality, the psychological comfort the circle provides,
the slight sense of privilege.
If you are sitting, stand up. Step over the threshold.
Feel the frisson of returning to the outside world. Standing
outside, consider the power of the circle in the wider land-
scape. Persuade yourself that inside the circle is a special,
even magical, place, where strange things might happen to
you. (It is: the circle singles you out as special when you are
inside it.) Steel yourself to step back inside. Feel another slight
frisson as you step over the line. All these effects are part of the One of the ways to prevail in Sumo is to push your opponent out
fundamental emotional dimensions of all architecture based of the ring that defines the area of battle. Territory – its possession
in identification of place. However sophisticated architecture and defence – is at the core of all architecture. It is essential
to most games and sports. It can be the fundamental cause
might get, it begins with this rudimentary separation of an of war between nations. Boundary disputes are probably the
inside from everywhere else by means of a threshold. This is most frequent cause of arguments between neighbours. In our
dwellings, our places of work, our entertainments – all managed
so, even if that dividing line – the threshold – is not so clear by architecture – the basic principle of organisation is the circle of
as your line in the sand. place (which of course might not always be circular).

E X ERCISE 14: making plac es just by being 179

 Marker or focus

You might begin by erecting something to stand vertical as a

focus and marker of the place. It could be a friend or perhaps
a piece of driftwood to represent a person...

E X E RC I SE 1 4b – modify your circle of place Or it could be a stone (make it as large a stone as you
can manage). In both cases, how does something occupying
Think about how just being in the world is the seed of its centre change your feelings about your circle? Is the post
place-making, architecture. Think about how your circle or standing stone (representing a person) claiming to be an
of place is the seed from which making a home for yourself object of veneration? Be aware too that the sun will inhabit
grows. your circle with a moving shadow, so your circle becomes a
Starting with your circle of place, think how you clock too.
might make it stronger as a place in itself, more comfortable
(commodious) as a place to live, or more attuned to another
purpose (perhaps as a place to display an object, perform a
ceremony of some sort, or protect a loved one). Use whatever
materials you have to hand: stones; driftwood; grass; the sand
(or earth) itself; even other people. In this exercise your task is
not to jump to the idea of a complete building but to consider
simple basics: how might I be able to sit more comfortably;
how can I cook those sausages I have with me; how can I
mitigate that annoying breeze…
Notice, while you are doing this, that beginning with You might place a large flat stone as an altar, a table or
the idea of the circle of place leads you into a way of thinking a grave. In this case, your focus becomes an occupiable place
about your place-making which is different from beginning in its own right – a small circle of place within the larger. It
with the idea of making a building as an object (a sculptural could be a table for the preparation of food, a catafalque on
object) to please the eye. Forms that begin with the circle of which might be laid a corpse, a platform…
place are concerned with framing (the person, an object, an
activity...) rather than being framed (as in a photograph or
drawing). Consequently, the person is treated as an ingredi-
ent of architecture rather than as a spectator of it. You can
think later about what your building looks like; think first
about what your building does to and for you the person who
has desires for comfort and a sense of being ‘at home’. Even
when designing for others, as you will, you are to some extent
designing for yourself.

180
 You might make a hearth with a fire. It defines a circle Each also generates (at least) two other circles: the
(with no clear threshold) of heat and light. This is a circle you intimate circle within which you can touch (or tend or hug)
might give physical form to with a group of friends. the stone/altar/hearth/tree (or the person it represents)…

Or you might plant a tree which will grow through time, … and the extensive circle of visibility, within which you can
creating its own circles of place with its canopy and shadow. see it.

Performance place

Next make circles that are open, with a defined perimeter.

Try outlining your circle with stones. Now you can stand at
the centre; you can be the focus.

A fire in the hearth defines its circle of place with light

and warmth. (Even a cold fire-less hearth evokes a related
memory.) The tree defines its circle with its canopy. Though
both occupy the centres of their own circles, they also generate
circles that you may occupy. Both frame your being. Both offer
the feeling of being ‘at home’.

The circle also becomes a place for performance, for

ritual, storytelling, contests, games…

E X ERCISE 14: making plac es just by being 181

Doorways and axes Try different permutations in a variety of relationships.
Enjoy the feeling of identifying a place. Enjoy the power of
With your stone circle, you can also experiment, as you did relating that place to the world around, even to the sun in the
using your blocks on the board, with making a doorway as a sky, or a hill in the distance… Enjoy the sense of setting down a
specific point at which to cross the threshold between outside spatial matrix, an architectural composition of elements, that
and inside… organises your sense of the world around you and your rela-
tionship with it. This is the universal language of architecture.

Temple, church, mosque...

In doing the above you will have built a temple, a church or a

mosque, depending on the arrangement of elements you have
chosen to make. You have made a real work of architecture in
the real world to which you can relate in a real way.
A church, for example, makes a circle of place (though
it may be cruciform in plan) around an altar. Its steeple acts
... a doorway that generates an axis. Which can establish a as a marker that can be seen from a distance.
link with something remote, such as a distant mountain or
the rising (or setting) sun.

The church’s orientation establishes a link with the east

(the rising sun) and the west (the setting sun) aligning it,
and its altar and congregation, with the cardinal directions
of the world.

You can play with combinations of focus, circle of place,

your self, and the doorway axis.

And if you build (or just imagine) a spire that straddles

the church’s circle of place then you have also indicated the
vertical direction – the axis mundi (axis of the world) – that
stretches into the sky (up to heaven). The steeple (marker)
then generates its own circle of place (shown dotted) which
might be identified by the wall of the churchyard, the sancti-
fied ground where dead are buried as if to be protected by a
shield – the force field generated by the church and its altar.
Whatever its style or ornamentation, a church is a composition

182
of the basic architectural elements of focus (altar), circle(s) E xe r c i s e 1 4 c – making places with people
of place, marker, doorway and its axis, and the person. It is
a composition that has the effect of giving form not only to We are ingredients of architecture (not just spectators). We
its specific place but also to an interpretation of the world experience the places we make with architecture, but we
around it. It gives the person a place to relate to; it gives sense can also constitute its fabric. We can ourselves be elements
to the world. of architecture.
Try making architecture using your friends as your
material for building. A line of people can be a wall (like the
defensive line in a game of football or rugby).

Just before the wall between West and East Berlin was
built in the 1960s, its position was identified (defended) by a
line of Russian soldiers, who themselves constituted a wall
dividing West from East:

In this example (above) someone has chosen a particular

rock on the beach as an altar. Anchored to this they outlined
the walls of a small ‘temple’ with a doorway, the axis of which
establishes a link from the ‘altar’ to the horizon over the sea.
Inside this small temple they have lain their towel, like the
catafalque in a crematorium chapel. (See also page 33.)
Without the altar this rudimentary temple could, too, Use two of your friends to make a doorway.
be a mosque oriented to Mecca, complete with prayer mat.
After teaching architecture for nearly half a century, it
still makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end to
realise the power of architecture – the universal language
of place-making – to situate ourselves in the world. You can
experience this without expense, but with a little thought and
effort, on the beach, across open moorland, in the woods…
The process begins with your becoming profoundly aware of
your own presence in the world and sensitive to your rela-
tionship with it. Then, conscious of your own centre and the
six directions that emanate from it, you can begin to make a
place for yourself.

E X ERCISE 14: making plac es just by being 183

 Walk through it. Be sensitive to
that frisson as you pass between them.
In 1977, Marina Abramovic and her
partner Ulay intensified that frisson
by standing naked in the entrance to
one of their exhibitions. (The work was
titled ‘Imponderabilia’.) Visitors had to
squeeze between them, choosing which
to face as they did.

Arrange your friends in a circle A circle of people is the form underlying

(above; a precursor of the circle of the prehistoric stone circle, and the
modern cricket ground or sports stadium.
standing stones) to identify a place, a The place of ritual and contest is defined
ritual space, within which some shared by the people spectating.
activity (a ritual, a play, a fight...) might
happen.

The people circle can be a defensive

formation… in which case it comes to
Or they might face outwards as a be built in permanent form as a castle
defensive formation; as when soldiers or fortress.
The people circle is also a social
formed themselves into squares (above), formation. We make them without thought
If you have sufficient friends avail- or pioneers circled their wagons (above when pitching camp with our friends
at a rock/pop festival (below; perhaps
able, arrange them to line a pathway, right), to defend against attack. with a hearth at the focus). It is also the
like a guard of honour leading to the These social geometries are often underlying form of a village green or a
doorway of a church at a funeral or the made more permanent by building them town square.

wedding of a soldier. in physical form. A defensive formation

becomes a fortress; a guard of honour
might be made more permanent by
planting an arcade of trees, erecting
two parallel lines of standard lamps,
or building a columned hall along a
central axis.
A circle of people may become a
circle of their tents or houses. The cir-
cle of people then becomes the houses
around a market square or village green,
or perhaps offices around an atrium. In this example, the circle of place is
further reinforced by a rope wrapped
Many architectural forms derive from around the tents, tying them together,
social (people) geometries. reinforcing their identity as a group.

184
 Here some children have built (moulded) a place to sit
together and talk:

A boy and his father seem to cement their relationship with

their sand fortress against the elements. Together, side by side,
they stand framed by their defensive circle confronting the sea.
Their relationship will of course be further reinforced by shared
They have scooped sand to make a depression in the laughter at the fortress’s inevitable failure to protect them from the
encroaching tide!
beach, deepening that depression by mounding the sand into
a circular bank around it. They have left a doorway oriented
towards the sea. The wall is high enough to conceal the
occupants from the rest of the beach and to make the place
feel enclosed when sitting inside. Around the base of the wall,
the children have formed a bench seat divided into individual
places. At the centre, where there might have been a hearth,
they have built an altar decorated with stones. It is a mani-
festation of the same architectural idea as an Iron Age house
(below) or a medieval chapter house (right).

For many cultures across the world their earliest architecture Playing with combinations of focus, circle of place, the
derives from the social circle given a permanent or semi- doorway and its axis, and your self (and friends) is a matter
permanent frame – an encircling wall with seats around a focus
– and sheltered by a roof. The Iron Age building above seems to of bringing those ideas you explored with your blocks out into
have been a council chamber where tribal leaders would have the world, out from the conceptual realm of your mind (and
come together to discuss common concerns. The chapter house
of a cathedral or monastery is where clergy and monks would
the arena of the board or drawing board) into reality. This
have gathered to discuss ecclesiastical or monastic matters. process is essential to architecture which originates in the
Even when such chambers for discussion are not circular in plan mind but which, when realised, changes the real world. You
(but square or rectangular) the social circle remains the core
architectural idea underlying their form. Think of other examples, might continue playing with the ideas you explored in the
at home or in school, where the social circle informs architecture. early exercises of this book with your blocks.

E X ERCISE 14: making plac es just by being 185

AU S T R A L I A N A B O R I G I N E PL AC E - M A K I N G

The ancient tribes of Australia are sometimes thought to

have no or little architecture. But once you begin to think
of architecture as the universal language of place-making,
you realise that those of us human beings who inhabited
the special world of the now-called ‘Australian’ landscape
for millennia, developed a rich poetic architecture, by which
sense of the world was made through place and associated
myth.
The traditional architecture of Australian aborigine
tribes consists mainly of place-making in the landscape.
The aborigine way of making sense of their world by spin-
ning ‘songlines’ that tie places in the landscape together in
a web of stories has already been mentioned (page 174).
Distinctive pieces of landscape are associated with par-
ticular myths. Emily Gap, for example, is the cult site of the 1
Witchetty Grub tribe. The general landscape there, which
is the trace of a creek through a gorge, is invested with
meaning as a route followed by the ancestors. Many stories
are each associated with their own specific features in the
arrangement of rocks, trees, caves... The ancestral route
leads to a sacred cave in the side of the gorge (1). There,
ceremonies are performed in a circle around a quartzite
altar representing a witchetty grub. The circle is formed by
smaller rocks representing the eggs of the grub. During the
ritual, men from the tribe form a further circle outside this,
where they rhythmically strike rocks together. 2
All ceremonies require arenas on which to be per-
formed. Areas of ground are swept clean of rocks and scrub,
leaving a kerb of debris to mark the threshold between the
sacred inside and the general outside (2). Such arenas are
not always circular. Various markers set out the court on
which the ceremony is to be performed, indicating where
particular things happen. The people not performing – the
rest of the tribe, the audience – stand outside the threshold
on the perimeter.
Markers and platforms are erected to support, display
and honour remains or other sacred objects (3 and 4). Some
are set in their own small circles of place, maybe with a fire.
Graves are dug in which the dead are interred sitting
up and facing the tribe’s camping ground (5), and provided 3

with a symbolic access ‘hatch’ for the spirit, in the form of a

depression in the ground alongside – a ‘doorway’ to enter
into and out of death.
(continued on opposite page)

Most of these examples are taken from:

Spencer and Gillen – Native Tribes of Central Australia, 1898. 5

186
6 7

As you can see on page 61 of Analysing Architecture:

the Universal Language of Place-Making, small crevices
in rock faces might be used as graves (6), marked with the
hand stencils of relatives.
Sacred totems, moulded from the earth and decorated
with pigment, are screened within circles of brush (7). This
drawing shows, in plan and section, the representation – the
embodiment – of a snake god. Small shelters are built to
protect a fire from the prevailing breeze and to make a shel-
tered place to sit (8). Shelters might be built to separate an
initiate from the world for a period of purdah before under-
going some ritual (see page 201). Walls are built of brush to
screen a ritual ceremony – such as the circumcision of a boy
– from the rest of the tribe (9). Once the ceremony has been
performed, at a sacred pole, the brush wall is broken open
to make a doorway through which the boy returns to the tribe
as an adult. Other tribes make an altar formed of the male
relatives of a boy (10). This is the ‘operating table’ on which
the circumcision is performed.
All these are examples of the human impetus for
place-making, which is the seed of all architecture. Places,
whether identified just by use, formed of people themselves,
or modified by building, are essential to the functioning of 8
any culture. In your own way you can experiment with all
of these aborigine place types yourself: making places in
the landscape; recognising the potential of places that are
already there; clearing ground; using other people; erecting
markers, platforms, shelters... You can experience the power
of such places to affect your perception of the world, your
place in it, and even your own identity.

10 9

AUSTR ALIAN ABORIGINE PLACE-MAKING 187

1 2 3

E T TO R E S OT T S A S S

Simple architecture in the landscape can be poetic. In the

1970s, the designer Ettore Sottsass played with making
places in the landscape. In some he made a doorway at the
centre of a circle of place (rather than at its edge), putting
a threshold – a point of transition – at the focus of atten-
tion (below). In doing so, he also drew attention to the idea
that all architecture – place-making – involves the creation
of transitions: transitions between inside and outside; tran-
sitions between one place and another. And that transitions
themselves, often doorways, are places in their own right.
4

Sottsass made a ‘Doorway through which you will

meet your love’ (1). Approached by a rocky path, it framed
an idyllic view of a mountain across a lake. He also made
a ‘Doorway through which to enter into darkness’ (2) and
another ‘through which you may not pass’ (3).
Sottsass’s doorways in the landscape are like tradi-
tional Japanese Shinto gateways (4). They stand as visible
objects but our relationship with them prompts us to won-
der what it would be like to pass through them and what we
would find or experience when we did.
As well as doorways, Sottsass made other elemental 6
places with the person in the landscape as subject. He laid
out blankets and a pillow as an inviting bed in the middle of a
grassy meadow (5). He entitled it ‘Do you want to sleep...?’.
Sottsass also recognised the potential of places rec-
ognised as already there in the landscape. By erecting a
banner on a boulder, and providing it with a staircase, he
turned the boulder into a place with an indeterminate iden-
tity (6). His transformation of existing features in the land-
scape into places is again a reminder of the way in which, in
traditional Japanese religion, distinctive landscape features
might be developed into shrines (7). 7

188
E xe r c i s e 1 4 d – anthropometry

Transitions are components of architec-

ture but they depend on us to experience
them. For architecture as place-making,
the person is the essential ingredient.
While you are making simple
places in the landscape, experiment
with how the size and mobility of your
own body influences your occupation,
movement through, and settlement in 1 2
those places.
Think about how, for example, you
choose a place to sit in the landscape. Do
you choose a rock between a particular
range of heights? (1) Would you choose
somewhere where there is something
to lean against, a tree trunk? (2) Do
you shiggle your bottom into the soft
sand of a dune (3) to form a more com-
fortable seat, leaving an impression (4)
that establishes a ‘throne’ to which you
might return? 3 4

Climbing a slope (5), be conscious

of how you place your feet, and of the
impressions you leave in the sand. Form
steps in the sand (6) – maybe with pieces
of driftwood – and experiment with dif-
ferent heights for each step. Judge which
heights provide the most comfortable
experience of climbing the steps. Make
notes in your notebook.
Walk, being aware of the foot-
prints you leave and the spaces between
them (7) and how they begin to establish
a pathway. Think too about where you 5 6
are going, and whether the ‘best’ route
is a straight line or will diversions be
necessary or seductive.
Construct doorways of different
widths and heights (8), including ones
that are too big and too small. Be sensi-
tive to how the different sized doorways
make you feel as you go through them.
Ask yourself what your doorway is cre-
ating a transition between. Measure
and record the different sizes and your
responses in your notebook. Remember
your experiences for when you have to
work in abstract. 7 8

E X ERCISE 14: making plac es just by being 189

E X ERCISE 15: ge omet r y of ma k i ng
Going through these exercises you will
have become more and more aware
that thinking as an architect involves
considering disparate and sometimes
conflicting factors at the same time. You
have to think of the form and dynamics
of the place you are making, and of its
occupation by yourself, others, things,
atmospheres… You have to think of the
place’s relationship with its context:
topography, other buildings, access,
weather, sun, the remote horizon… 1
You also have to think about the
materials and techniques of construc-
tion. This last is likely to be the factor
that will occupy the majority of your
time and worry as a professional archi-
tect. If you allow it to, it can usurp those
other important considerations.
Getting a feel for materials and
the ways in which they might be put
together into stable and weatherproof
building construction is best done in 2 3
the real world. There will of course be
limits to what you can do in terms of
available materials and your own skill.
But it is important to try. Even so, it
will be useful – and maybe spark ideas
– to attempt building with real, found
materials. By doing so, you will come to
better understand the rigours and the
flexibilities of the geometry of making
as it applies in different ways to different
kinds of materials.
Experiment with making archi-
tectural elements – walls, platforms,
pits, roofs, pathways, markers... – using
the materials to hand where you are.
4
Observe, analyse and sketch in
your notebook the materials and con-
struction of buildings you see and make.
Always remember that architec-
tural elements are the means by which
places for occupation are identified. The
core meaning of your work lies in the
place it makes, before the aesthetics of
its material construction. 5

190
6 7 8 9

Here are just a few things to consider.

• You can make architectural elements by digging,
mounding and moulding... as when you dig a pit on
the beach mounding the sand into a wall around your
place (1 opposite).
• You can make architectural elements by planting... 10
as when you plant stakes or stones in the ground (2).
• You can make architectural elements by weaving...
as when you weave twigs together to make wattle (3).
• You can make architectural elements by leaning... as
when you lean branches together to make a tipi (4).
• You can make architectural elements by connecting...
as when you cut branches and assemble them into a
structure (5).
• You can make architectural elements by building...
as when you put stones on top of each other to build 11
a wall. In this the form of your wall will be influenced
by the characteristics of the stones with which you
try to build. You might have to balance pebbles
awkwardly on each other (6) or be lucky to find flat
stones that balance quite well in courses (7). Trying
to build a wall with stones found in the landscape
will make you more aware of the benefits of using
standard rectangular blocks (8, as you did in the early
exercises of this book). If you are in a snowfield you
can of course try to cut blocks to the shapes you need
to make an igloo (9).
• You can make architectural elements by supporting,
stretching, suspending... as when you stretch a rope
between two trees to support a piece of fabric as a
shelter or shade (10).
A Mongolian yurt is made by weaving slats of wood (11)
into a flexible and collapsible (for travelling) enclosing wall. 12
This small house in Kerala (12) is built by mounding and
moulding mud, assembling a roof structure, and weaving a
roof of coconut leaves.
There are infinite possibilities to invent constructions
with real materials. The geometry of making prevails, though
even this can be flexible. More sophisticated buildings are
conditioned by the geometries of these various kinds of
making... as you will find as you collect and sketch examples
in your notebook.

E XERCISE 15: geometr y of making 191

 ‘Big Two-Hearted River’ is an early short
story by Ernest Hemingway. In it, the
autobiographical character Nick makes
camp and goes fishing. The story is full of
descriptions of a young man’s interactions
with the landscape: gazing into the river’s
brown water watching fish; walking
along a road out into the landscape;
resting against a tree stump; playing with
grasshoppers; walking through the pine
woods; lying on the pine needles looking
up at the sky; sleeping and waking;
walking along the river; finding a good
spot to make camp… and fishing for trout.

N I C K ’ S CA M P Nick’s place also needed shelter from possible rain,

so he stretched the rope between the trees to support the
In his short story ‘Big Two-Hearted River’ (1925)* Ernest canvas which he pegged tight into the ground. He wanted to
Hemingway describes the making of an overnight camp. protect himself from mosquitoes too, so he hung his cheese-
Hemingway’s account may be picked apart to examine cloth across the entrance. In these ways Nick responded to
Nick the architect’s thought processes. My drawing of Nick’s the conditions impinging on his place. Then he organised
camp is above. Nick’s first decision was to find, recognise, the inside, putting the things he might need in the night at
decide upon the location for his place. He already had an the head of his bed.
idea in his mind of what he was going to do. And he had When all that was done Nick felt pleased. He was
some ready-made components with him. He was going to proud of the care he had taken in making his camp, enjoying
make a place to sleep sheltered by a tent made with a sheet the psychological as well as physical comfort of the home
of canvas. The canvas would be supported by a rope. He he had made for himself. From the great outdoors he had
needed two trees about the right distance apart between created a small inside in which to hide himself to sleep.
which he could stretch the rope. Before he started, he knew But he also needed a fire to cook his food. The hearth
what he wanted; he had an (architectural) idea ready. It was is an integral part of the architecture of Nick’s camp. It would
probably not one that he had generated himself; perhaps he not have been sensible to put the fire inside the tent, but it is
had learnt it from seeing what others did. Still, it was he who not clear from the description exactly where he did put it. We
decided to use this idea in this particular location. He had might guess that he would have placed it somewhere near
brought most of the requisite kit – canvas, rope, blankets, but not too near the tent’s entrance. He would have been
cheesecloth... with him. Pegs he cut from a stump. careful to clear away material that might catch and spread
He found two trees. An advantage was that they were the fire. Maybe he made a circle of stones as a hearth kerb.
on rising ground at the edge of the wood, with a view over He had brought a grill to support his pan. He probably also
the meadow, river and swamp. A refuge with a prospect found a log on which to sit while cooking.
is always a good place to be, neither out in the open nor With the nail in the tree to hang his pack off the ground
completely hidden away, sparking neither agoraphobia nor (not shown in my drawing), Nick’s place was complete. It
claustrophobia, a location where you can see people com- gave physical form to his existence in that location. It iden-
ing and yet remain concealed. Although on a slope, the tified his place. It provided him with a temporary home, a
ground between the selected trees was level. It is not so centre to his life. While he was there it would frame, and act
comfortable to sleep on a slope. as a reference point for, everything he did. As its architect,
It’s not so comfortable either to sleep on lumpy roots, Nick had not only provided himself with a comfortable place
so Nick prepared the ground by removing the roots with his to sleep, he had made sense of the location, his domain. His
axe. Then he filled the holes and made the place even more camp underlined his communion with the world around him.
comfortable with layers of blankets. He changed the ground, (No wonder he felt happy!)
making an area on which he could lie in relative comfort.
The sleeping place was made. Most place-making (architec- * Ernest Hemingway – ‘Big Two-Hearted River’ (1925), in The Nick Adams
ture) begins with changes to the ground surface. Stories, 1981. You might be able to find it on the Internet.

192
R AY M E A RS – p l a c e s i n t h e l a n d s c a p e

Here are two pages from my ‘PLACE’ notebook (available at ways we make shelter in the landscape. I drew them while
simonunwin.com). They are filled with drawings exploring different watching ‘Bushcraft’ (2004) by the TV survival expert Ray Mears.
We all make places – homes – for ourselves when we go to spend
a day at the beach (left). Such homes can take many different
forms. Some depend on nothing more than a towel – to define and
change the ground surface on which we want to lie. Sometimes
we use things that we find – driftwood, stones, the sand itself…
Many people bring kits of place-making equipment: windbreaks,
small tents, parasols, folding chairs… In making these places we
think about various things: how close we are to others (a factor
that will depend on how crowded the beach is); our relationship
with the sun and to the horizon across the sea; what is to our back
– dunes, cliffs, a cave… We might also think about our position
in relation to a nearby beach cafe, or to the toilets (lavatories,
rest-rooms, toilets, WCs…). The home we make becomes the
reference point for our day by the sea.
In all these ways we demonstrate our intuitive, if initially
unsophisticated, grasp of the universal language of architecture.
When we start to think about such place-making, even if
only on the beach, something else happens. We become self-
conscious. We try to do something ‘special’. And then that
intuitive fluency can be lost.
Try this for yourself. Start by making the sort of place you
would normally make when you spend time on the beach or
make camp, like Nick, in the woods. Then tell yourself to be
‘Architectural’ about it. Analyse the change. Is it good? Or have
you become self-conscious?

R AY M E A R S – p l a c e s i n t h e l a n d s c a p e 193
E X ERCISE 16: re spond i ng to c ond it ion s

The conditions within which places

are made often present the architect
with problems to address. But they can
also be key to the power and poetry
of architecture. Without the sea this
construction would just be a rather rustic
chair, a place to sit, a rudimentary throne
maybe. But set in the shifting tide it
becomes a refuge beset by uncertainty, a
place where the girl is wistfully marooned.

Unlike many art forms, which often seem to live in their own hermetic realm,
architecture (if it is intended to be created in the real world) must always take into
account prevailing conditions.
When you were making models with your blocks on your board you did not
take into account real conditions affecting your place-making. You could concern 1

yourself with form in a little flat and dry world away from sunshine, rain, wind,
temperature and the presence of real people. (It is easy too to neglect conditions
when designing in the abstract medium of drawing on paper or computer modelling.
And that has been the root of many problems and the source of much criticism
levelled against architects.)
Even at the ephemeral level of these exercises, making places in the real world
can help increase your abiding awareness of conditions that affect place-making.
When you start making places in real conditions you could continue to behave as if
you were in that separate little world and ignore sun, rain, wind, air temperature,
ground conditions and the presence of other people and their places. Or you can
start to think about how your place-making might exploit and mitigate the influ-
ence of these factors. You can start to think about how you might shelter yourself
from excessive sun, from rain that soaks you, from wind that chills you... how you
might make yourself warm in cold conditions, how you might make yourself cool
in hot conditions... how you might cope with soft or bumpy ground conditions...
how you might either give yourself some privacy (in your place) or how you might
draw more attention to yourself and make yourself more visible to other people. 2

194
3 4 5

Place-making in the landscape is often described and

discussed in terms of shelter and survival. In Britain, televi-
sion adventurers such as Ray Mears (page 193) demonstrate in
their programmes various ways to make bivouacs in different
circumstances as defences against the factors listed above.
Even though the places you make will be necessarily rudi-
mentary, these are the same factors addressed by buildings
through all history and even by the most sophisticated and
most advanced buildings of today. But you can make yourself
aware of the principles of the exploitation and mitigation of
conditions by making small places using simple materials in
the landscape.
In doing this exercise the first thing to do is to assess the
conditions within which you wish to make a place. Are there
factors you wish to mitigate? Are there factors you can exploit?
Such assessments might (should) influence the specific spot
you decide to build. In a cool climate, you might for example
choose a more sheltered location and one that is facing the
sun. In a hot climate you might look for somewhere that is
shaded by trees or open to a prevailing breeze. You might welcome the partial privacy that the wind-
Here are some examples of what you might try. Remem- break provides and decide to put another on your other side
ber that the principle factors to be exploited or mitigated are (even though the wind is not blowing from that direction) to
sun, rain, wind, air temperature, ground conditions and the screen you from neighbours. Notice how, in the above sketch,
presence of other people. these two simple windbreaks do more than just shelter a place
Persistent wind is wearing and can chill the body. from breeze and from the eyes of other people. Positioned as
Animals on hillsides find pockets of space sheltered from bit- they are, the cliff behind protects the rear; and together they
ing winds (1, opposite). People can do this too, but we can also establish an axis that orientates the place towards the sea.
make windbreaks. On the beach you might dig a hole beside These two windbreaks, promoted to permanent walls, could
a large piece of driftwood (a tree trunk) to make a pocket of easily become a temple or a house.
still air where you can escape from the wind (2).
You might have brought a fabric windbreak with you
to the beach, beside which you can sit sheltered from the
breeze (3, above).
Experiment with how far the beneficial effects of the
windbreak extend. How big is the pocket of still air it shelters?
How near to it do you need to sit to be out of the breeze?
Consider too how the windbreak relates to other factors
Early houses found by archaeologists, such as at Troy, are
such as the sun and other people’s places. composed of two parallel walls with an end wall and doorway wall.
According to the position of the sun (4 and 5), you could These walls hold up the sheltering roof, yes. But they also, like the
beach windbreaks, provide privacy and shelter from wind. (See
find yourself sitting sheltered from the breeze in full sun or also the chapter on ‘Parallel Walls’ in Analysing Architecture: the
in shade. These create different circumstances. Universal Language of Place-Making.)

EXERCISE 16: responding to conditions 195

 Alternatively, if you are in hot In the tropics, you might want to In winter you will probably want
and humid conditions, you might want shelter yourself from rain as well as sun, to enclose your place completely…
to open your place to the breeze whilst whilst opening your place to cooling though you will need to consider where
shading it from the sun. breezes. the smoke from the fire will go.
You will have to deal with ground
conditions too. On boggy ground (if you
cannot fine a drier place to make your
place) you might build a base of logs on
which to build your shelter.

You might just want to get out of In cold and wet conditions you
the sun. will probably want to shelter yourself
from both the rain and the wind. And
maybe light a fire.

Or if you need to make a place

when your landscape is flooded, then
you might have to build a platform (as
the people of Bihar had to in the floods
of 2008).
Notice how these simple struc-
tures blend framing a place (to accom-
modate a person) with responding to
conditions and the geometry of making.
The permutations of these three factors
are probably infinite.

196
 Conditioning factors come in many varieties… not just
sun, wind, rain, topography, other people…
In some circumstances you might need, for example, to
protect yourself, not so much from the eyes of other people,
but the attentions of predatory animals. You might surround
your place with a stockade of spiny branches, establishing for
yourself a circle of place into which threats may not enter.

That girl selling apples (page 6) responded intuitively to the

conditions: the position of her family’s garden gate, the footpath,
the tree, the circle of shade…

The resident of this house (below and on page 50) does

something similar, responding to the doorway and the shade
of the tree.

If we are homeless we have to make places for ourselves in

the city to sleep at night (below). Survival might depend on
finding somewhere sheltered – an underpass for example – and
Above is that sort of camp Masai huntsmen make from mitigating the coldness of the hard pavement with whatever
spiky branches to protect themselves from animals over insulating and soft materials we can find. We might even try to
block cold draughts with the sides of cardboard boxes:
night (see also page 79). Notice how it is anchored to the tree,
and has a hearth as the centre of its circle of place. A clump
of branches closes the doorway and completes the circle of
protection. Such examples, though pertinent to circumstances
specific to particular regions, illustrate that important dimen-
sion of place-making – the desire for security.
These examples illustrate just a few of the many ways
in which place-making may respond to conditions. You must
think about the particular conditions that prevail where you
are making your place.
When you have done this exercise in the countryside,
you might also like to think about doing it again in city envi-
ronment, where you need to take into account, or advantage
of, other factors such as existing structures, street trees etc.

EXERCISE 16: responding to conditions 197

I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : re spond i ng to c ond it ion s
Find and draw some examples of more permanent buildings
where conditions have influenced form.
It has been perhaps easier in past times for architects,
particularly in so-called ‘traditional’ societies, to be sensitive
to the problems and subtle possibilities of the conditions
within which they are building. Expense, property ownership,
planning control, and the abstract means and conventions of
design all conspire to make it difficult to maintain a sensitive
appreciation of the particularities of a site: the weather, the
character of the ground, the adjacency of other people and
buildings, the importance of particular trees etc. Especially
on a computer, but also on paper, it is tempting to design first
and impose on the site later. From the client’s point of view this
is also a quicker way to achieve a project. Site analysis takes
time…; ideally a year, to see how the location changes with
the seasons. Traditional architecture has had the advantage
of evolving over many years, even centuries.
Even so, responding to conditions is still an important
consideration in architectural design at all scales, from the
The troglodyte houses of the Cappadocia region of Turkey
smallest project to the largest. Some architects seem to worry are carved into its distinctive cone-shaped rocky pinnacles.
less about it than others. It is certainly not always an easy This architecture of excavation is only possible because of the
softness of the rock (compressed volcanic ash) and the geometry
matter. But sometimes it is the response to conditions that of the cones. The architecture could also respond to changing
make the architecture distinctive. circumstances, with additional rooms excavated as needed.

The builders of the monasteries of Meteora in northern Greece The Anasazi tribes of what is now Colorado built whole cities in
took advantage of naturally occurring rock columns to make their the shade and shelter of huge cliff overhangs in the Mesa Verde.
places of spiritual refuge closer to God. The difficult process of Here too the architecture could not be the same in other locations.
building in such inaccessible locations was a form of worship. The area is now a National Park and UNESCO World Heritage
The resulting monasteries were also more secure from evil doers. Site… a status that protects this dramatic architecture (but also
The architecture responds to and exploits conditions. It would not has the effect of preventing future architects from emulating it by
be the same on flat featureless ground. similarly taking advantage of the topography).

198
section

The Casa del Ojo de Agua in Mexico* The Louisiana Art Museum in Denmark
(above), designed by Ada Dewes and (1950s, below) was designed by Vilhelm
Sergio Puente in 1985, is a tiny house Wohlert and Jørgen Bo to take advantage
that uses the topography, atmosphere and both of existing buildings and a park
even the birdsong of its site to create an landscape. It creates a route amongst
architectural poem that could not be the trees, which culminates in a terrace with
same anywhere else. a view across the sea to Sweden.

plan

Sverre Fehn’s 1988 design for a small

art gallery at Verdens Ende (the World’s
End) in Norway exploited the ‘parallel
walls’ enclosure provided by a natural
cleft in the rocks. In all his work Fehn was
keenly aware of the contribution of the
site, how topography could (should) be the
formative influence on architecture. See
the quotation below.

‘The land is the architect of my

buildings; the way in which the building
is set in the landscape gives the
project its precision… The architect The lesson to be retained in your designing mind is that you should always
finds architecture with the help of be open to possibilities that your site might offer as well as the challenges it lays
nature. At one time, man’s fear placed
the landscape in a far more exalted down. Architecture can exist in a vacuum (easily in computer worlds) but it has
position, as fear forced a search for much richer dimensions when it includes, embraces, takes advantage of where it is.
safety by way of the contours of the
terrain. Today… (we) learn to read the
land primarily in relation to aesthetic See also the chapter on ‘Using Things That Are There’ in Analysing Architecture: the Universal
and historic terms.’ Language of Place-Making.
Sverre Fehn, quoted in Per Olaf Fjeld – Sverre * And, for the Casa del Ojo de Agua, see also Twenty-Five Buildings Every Architect Should
Fehn: The Pattern of Thoughts, 2009. Understand.

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: responding to c onditions 199

E X ERCISE 17: f ra m i ng at mosphere
Try to make a place that contains a par-
ticular atmosphere.
Place-making is often associated
with establishing, framing, encapsu-
lating a change in atmosphere, either
literally or metaphorically. The purpose Travellers in the Gobi desert heat Immersion in water – baptism –
of any simple shelter is to encapsulate a up stones in a fire and then mound earth is considered an important ceremony
volume of space that will remain warm over them to provide a bed in the open of initiation and purification in some
when the outside is cold or perhaps cool (above) that will stay warm through the religions. A tank or pit in the ground
when the outside is hot, calm when the cold night. filled with water (below) creates a par-
outside is windy, dry when the outside But places (those you make for ticular atmosphere. Immersing yourself
is wet, private when the outside is pub- this exercise included) may frame in such a font is a distinctive experience,
lic. These are the primary (practical) different sorts of atmosphere too, and one that does seem to prompt a change
purposes of any home. An igloo, for in different ways. Place-making can in your state of being.
example, encloses air warmed by the stimulate ingenuity. Nineteenth century
bodies of its occupants and perhaps also anthropologists recorded Australian
by a single candle. aborigine tribes building elaborate
shaded platforms positioned over small
smoky fires so that they could rest out
of the hot sun free of insects.

plan

On the windy landscape of the

Shetland Islands farmers build ‘planty
crubs’...

Some Native American tribes, as

part of cleansing rituals, built sweat
section
lodges (like Scandinavian saunas).
Steam from water poured on hot stones The at mospheres evoked by
would be trapped inside a simple shelter place-making can involve emotional
covered in animal skins. Experiencing senses as well as smell, temperature,
this atmosphere, and its effects on the taste, touch… Places almost always
body, is considered both physically and have psychological effects on those who
spiritually healing. experience them. Often these effects are
common and mundane. But they can be
... which are small enclosures defined special and powerful too. Most religious
by rough stone walls that, blocking the buildings, of all faiths, aim to engender
constant winds and trapping sunlight, a spiritual atmosphere that will provoke
contain still and warm air within which a sense of reverence in those who enter
feed-crops for animals will grow more them. If successful, that atmosphere
quickly than they would on exposed might be perceived/referred to as ‘the
open ground. presence of divinity’.

200
 Australian aborigines might make an ‘igloo’ out of twigs congregations during services, they enclose the sacred spirit
in which to isolate a young man preparing to go through an of the religion. Even a small chapel in open countryside can
initiation ceremony. If you are the person alone inside, in view contain and frame a sacred atmosphere.
of others outside, such a structure contains an unnerving Places often frame the numinous. Even with no physical
atmosphere of isolation. The architecture takes the initiate building they can contain an atmosphere felt to be sacred. At
away from the tribe before returning him prepared to change the beginning of Sophocles’ tragedy Oedipus at Colonus, the
state, maybe from child to adult. Place-making has a signifi- self-blinded King Oedipus and his daughter Antigone reach
cant role to play in rites of passage (a term that in itself implies Colonus within sight of the distant city of Athens. After their
an architectural metaphor). travels they seek to rest in a grove which they sense is sacred.
As we have seen, nineteenth-century anthropologists Shortly after, they are warned by locals that they must not
recorded aborigines making totemic representations of ani- stay where they are because that spot is indeed dedicated to
mal gods and protecting them from sight by screens of brush, a god. (See also page 168.)
defining a place saturated with the spirit of the god. Most The drawing below shows how the stage might be set
religions have done similar things. Churches not only shelter for a performance of Sophocles’ play. Even in this artificial
environment, the place frames the sensed presence of the god;
the god’s spirit defines the place. Antigone and her father are
framed within the halo of the place, isolated from the local
people standing around.

We once did an exercise in which students were asked to make

places within the spaces of a school of architecture. One group
imported a pile of twigs and proceeded to build a loose dome,
open at the top. It was dubbed a ‘twigloo’. It had a small doorway In the staging of Sophocles’ play, Oedipus’s doomed presence is
through which one of the students crawled. We could see him a place within a place within a place within a place within a place.
inside through the gaps in the twig structure. I asked, ‘How In order these are: Oedipus’s own personal circle of presence;
do you feel inside?’ He admitted that he felt (psychologically) which is within the circle of place of the sacred grove; this is the
uncomfortable. We usually think of a cell like this as a refuge in sacred stage for the (sub-)theatre completed by the ‘audience’ of
which we can hide, but since the lattice of twigs was loose, and the play’s chorus and the ‘Countryman’ who tells them to vacate
he was surrounded by a gang of staring students, he felt he had the sacred circle of the grove; then there is the actual stage; in the
become the unwilling object of attention. The architecture created actual theatre where we are members of the actual audience. This
an atmosphere of self-consciousness. creates its own sacred circle – the sacred realm of drama.

E X E R C I S E 17: f r a m i n g a t m o s p h e r e 201
I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : d raw you r plac e s
Draw the places you have made in the landscape. If you have Drawing is indeed a fine art form in its own right. But
been doing this exercise with friends, draw theirs too. You for an architect it is a tool at the service of place-making.
can draw your places as you see them with your eyes, as if Architects use drawing but the end is to apply the imagination
you were taking a photograph of them. Or you might want to to changing the actual world, or at least a small part of it.
alter your viewpoint slightly so that you can show your place The rocky clearing in the woods can be drawn as a plan
in a better aspect, and perhaps show relationships (below). and a section (opposite). Draw the section above the plan,
But it is most important that you draw your places as approximately to the same scale and facing in the appropriate
they are in your mind – which is responsible for their form. direction so that the two drawings may be read together to
As an architect, you must be able to see and understand all conjure up a three dimensional understanding of the place in
about the places you design and make, not just what they look the mind of the person looking at the drawings. Try to be as
like from the outside or from the inside. The most important accurate as possible about the size and positions of the most
drawings in designing and representing places are the plan significant elements of the place you are drawing. You might
and the section. These are the drawings of the mind not just be able to do this by eye, or pace out measurements. If you
the eyes; these are the drawings that illustrate the conceptual have one with you, use a tape measure, but you do not need
spatial organisation (the intellectual structure) of the work to be hyper-accurate. Other things (the branches and leaves
rather than just its visual appearance. of the trees for example) do not have to be accurate.

You can draw your place in a pictorial way (as here) but you
should try to make it clear how the place works spatially. For this
exercise, your task is not so much to make a pretty picture nor an
arresting abstract pattern of colours (though no one is stopping
you doing that too). Here the focus is on clarifying the place-
making so that it might be understood by someone else (your
tutor, client…). Your drawing should be subservient to that aim.

202
section

plan

Drawing real places in plan and section, especially if you have Try redrawing just the topographical content of your drawing –
been instrumental in establishing those places yourself, is good what was there before you arrived – and drawing different ways of
practice for imagining fresh design through the medium of drawing using that site and making it into a place. Then perhaps you might
(pencil or computer). go back (if you can) and try out your newly drawn design in reality.

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: draw your plac es 203

 As suggested on page 304 of Analysing Architecture:
the Universal Language of Place-Making (nearer the front of
earlier editions) you will find that a piece of squared paper laid
under your notebook paper is useful to help you control the
position and scales of your drawings. (Choose your notebook
so that the paper is neither too dense nor too transparent.
Cartridge paper, for example is likely to be too thick to be
able to see the squared underlay.) The squared paper is also
useful for keeping your notes neat and for shading in blocks
of ground etc. Surprisingly, it is useful in drawing irregular
as well as regular places. And in drawing sections it reminds
you constantly of the (rough) horizontality of the ground and
the verticality of gravity. It helps you draw a straight and level
If you are drawing a place that you have made in a tree, horizon too.
then it is probably necessary to be a bit more accurate about You must show what you can see in the background.
some of the most important branches (above). Do not draw this background in perspective but at the same
Show the construction of the elements you have built to scale. The background is informative about the character of
define and frame your place. The section is particularly useful the location of the place you have made and its relationship
for this, but try to do it in plan too. with its surroundings.

Be accurate about those things that need accuracy and

sketchy about other things (such as the blades of grass). The
ground is an essential element of all terrestrial architecture,
so give all your sections a good portion of ground (shaded?) Aligning the components of your place between the section and
as a base for your construction. In plan you can indicate the the plan is important. It is important too to show what can be seen
slope of ground using shadows or wiggly lines. Some annota- of the background. Here it is only the portion of grassy dune that
completes the bowl of land in which the hearth and seats are
tion can be useful, maybe to indicate the position of the sun situated. But it is important to show that back portion of dune in
or sea, or the direction of the wind. You might like to include the section. Find or develop conventional ways of drawing aspects
of your place that are not so easily drawn: such as the slope of
a person or too, to show how the place might be occupied and the ground in the plan (indicated here with squiggly lines); or the
also to give a sense of scale. entrance (shown here with an arrow).

204
 The context of your place is an essential ingredient of
its identity (above). Although you know what the context is,
that is not enough; you should also show it in your drawings,
plans and especially sections. Be generous with the amount of
context you show in your section. The context is an important
part of the story of your place. In the woods the story of your
place is likely to be constrained within quite a small area
bounded by trees, but on the beach it is likely that your place If the main idea of your place is to do with a relationship with the
horizon, then do a drawing that illustrates that idea (in a way more
will relate in some way to the ocean and the distant horizon.
powerful than could be done with words).
Your drawings should communicate this relationship. You
might wish to draw your section at two different scales – one Drawing is a bridge between your architectural imag-
that shows the detail of your place close to, and one that shows ination and place-making in the real world. In this exercise
the relationship of your place with the wider landscape. you have travelled in one direction across that bridge – from
Through practice you should strive to achieve a state of making a place in reality to drawing it on paper. More often
mind where you really enjoy the experience of drawing, the in your architectural education and your professional career
sensuality of making marks with, for example, a pencil on you are going to make that journey in the opposite direction
a piece of paper. You should be discriminating about which – from drawing to place-making. But hopefully, having done
sort of pencil, which lead, which paper... is right for you and this exercise, you are more likely to remember the overar-
the task in hand. You should relish the time spent shading a ching importance of the location of your design, and will be
tone evenly, or drawing a tree. conscious of the eventual reality of the places your imagina-
Remember too that if time is an element of your place tion conceives. It would be no bad thing to treat yourself to
– as it well might be – you could put together a sequence of repeating this exercise periodically… next year… in ten years
drawings as a storyboard. (See page 214.) time… in fifty years…

IN YOU R NOTEBOO K: draw your plac es 205

 D R AW I N G PL A N S A N D S EC T I O N S

Even when sophisticated and seductive computer modelling

software is available, being able to draw clear and commu-
nicative plans and sections is essential to thinking as an
architect. This skill is important in communicating with others
and crucial to conception and design development.
Architecture should be depicted not just as it appears
to the eye but as it appears to the mind. In his book My Name
is Red (1998), Orhan Pamuk describes traditional miniature
paintings. He equates the ways in which architects draw to
the way in which Allah sees the world and everything in it.*
He describes a section as drawing a building as if cut through
by a razor, with everything inside and outside shown.
The drawings on this page, of me sitting in my study,
have been made in the traditional way with pencil on paper,
but the principles apply whatever medium you use. Nowa-
days, I do the majority of my drawings with a stylus on a
computer screen or tablet (Wacom and iPad) in graphics
software (Adobe Photoshop and Adobe Fresco). (I still enjoy
the sensual pleasure of drawing with a pencil on paper, but
computer drawing has distinct advantages: it allows the use
of ‘layers’; and makes erasure, correction, repetition, mirror-
ing and scaling much quicker and easier.)
You could draw a picture of the outside of your house
or of a room inside; but if you draw a section and a plan you
can show the inside and the outside at the same time. You
can show how they relate to each other through windows
and doorways, under trees and over hedges. You show how
it works rather than just how it looks. In a ‘Platonic’ (‘design’)
section and plan (see page 209) you show all the things you
can see in the background (far wall and floor) but none of the
construction. In a ‘construction’ section and plan you don’t
show those things but you do show the build up of the mate-
rials and components of the solid parts of the building. The
drawings on this page are ‘Platonic’.
Plans and sections are where the spatial, organisational, place-
making ideas of architecture reside. The drawings should be
presented in a coordinated way, so that they may be read together. * See page 271 of Analysing Architecture: the Universal Language of
Try to place the section directly above the plan, at the same scale. Place-Making.

206
 the theatre

Make sketch plans and sections of the places you visit

too. Places in the landscape have important relationships
with their wider context. Your drawings, especially the sec-
tion, should show this. In the case of the Greek theatre at
Segesta on the island of Sicily (above and left) you might
draw a section through a wide tract of landscape to illustrate
the relationship between the theatre and the surrounding
mountains (above). The actual theatre might be quite small
in such a drawing but you can do another section at a larger
scale to show its form (left).
The seat under the tree (which is in Tenby in south-
west Wales) shown in the drawing on the lower left is a
Try to draw as much as you need to be able to ‘tell the story’ of the pleasant place to sit, but you would not be telling its full story
place as fully as you can. For example, the story of this ancient
– its position on the cliff top with views across the sea while
Greek theatre at Segesta on the island of Sicily is about more than
its immediate three-dimensional form; it is about its relationship in contact with the bustling town... – if you did not draw a
with the wider landscape. And so I have made a drawing – a generous section. You must be the judge of how much to
landscape or site section – to try to communicate that relationship. show in order to tell the relevant story of your place fully.
Maybe in this drawing I did not give enough indication of the
distant view from the seat to the horizon, across the ocean
with its sailing ships.
the seat under a tree Doing exercises like this is an important part of learn-
ing the universal language of place-making – architecture. It
is the equivalent of the small child repeating something its
parent says, and thereby assimilating that verbal structure
and semantic meaning into its own vocabulary and fluency.
The more you draw the places you experience in the real
world, the more you will find that you make use of these
consolidated memories in your own design work. You find
new things to ‘say’ for yourself by ‘listening’ to what others
‘say’ to you. This applies as much in architecture as in any
verbal language.
In addition, your fluency in the universal language of
place-making will increase as you draw, making it possible
for you to ‘say’ more and more things with it. So, drawing the
places you experience is not just about making a record of
where you have been, nor about creating pictures, it is about
becoming a better creative architect, more confident in your
ability to communicate your design ideas to yourself and to
others. Drawing plans and sections is a non-negotiable skill
for an architect.

DR AWING PL ANS AND SECTIONS 207

E X ERCISE 18: me a su re d d raw i ng
Measurement brings extra accuracy to drawing existing places. Measuring buildings
and drawing them – as ‘design’ and as ‘construction’ plans and sections (you will
have to make some educated guesses about hidden construction) – is a good way
to practise your drawing and develop your understanding of architecture, how it
works and what you can do with it.
In architectural education of the past – especially during when the Beaux-
Arts ideology held sway (e.g. in nineteenth-century France and Edwardian Britain)
– preparing measured drawings was seen as a way of making beautiful drawings
of fine buildings. It has been perceived as a test of presentation skills; and in
architectural drawing collections around the world there are extremely beautiful
examples of exquisitely rendered measured drawings.
But there is a more important purpose to making measured drawings than
the production of masterpieces of architectural presentation. In the early twentieth
century, two architecture students, J.C. Shepherd and G. A. Jellicoe, spent a year
travelling through Italy measuring some of its wonderful Renaissance gardens.
They produced a book full of Shepherd’s plans, sections and photographs, accom-
panied by Jellicoe’s text.* Geoffrey Jellicoe went on to become one of the great
garden designers of the twentieth century. His own drawings are legendary, but
the lessons he learnt from studying Italian Renaissance gardens were more to do
In the 1950s and 60s S.R. Jones (a
with their underlying ‘language’, their ‘grammar’ rather than mere appearances. college of art lecturer) and J.T. Smith (an
He learnt this through the intimate experience of measuring them. investigator with the Royal Commission on
Measured drawings might be prepared as a survey from which to develop Historical Monuments in Wales) measured
a number of traditional houses in mid-
alterations to an existing building. They are prepared by archaeologists and histori- Wales. They did so to support studies
ans as matters of documentary record. But for the purposes of this book – learning in local history by providing a record
of these threatened houses. But in the
to think as an architect – the aim of spending time measuring existing buildings process they also learnt the architectural
is to assimilate by immersion some of the essential factors of architecture: scale, language – the regional vernacular –
of these buildings. And they did so in
sizes, relationships, proportions… It is the equivalent of closely reading a literary
terms of spatial organisation – how the
text or musical score. The intimacy of the encounter with a building experienced houses accommodated life – as well as
through measuring every dimension and detail stocks the memory and imagination construction and structural form. (Their
drawings and researches were published
with knowledge of the reality of architecture. The process helps you increase your in successive volumes of the journal
fluency not only in architectural drawing but in architecture itself. Brycheiniog, between 1963 and 1972.)

When making a measured survey plan and section, first make

sketches estimating dimensions by eye. Then, usually with the
help of a friend, make careful measurements and note them on
the sketches. Squared paper, perhaps used as an underlay, can
help you make even your sketched plan and section roughly to
scale. The squared paper also helps with right-angles; though
diagonal measurements should also be taken to establish whether
spaces that appear rectangular actually are so. You will take
these sketches with the noted measurements away to make fair
drawings. But before you leave, double-check that you have all the
measurements and other information that you may need. It may
not be possible to return. Take lots of photographs too, including
a measuring rod if you can, for reference. Don’t just measure the
building fabric; include principal furniture too, and record how the
place is used, how it is lit, even perhaps how it smells and other
aspects of its atmosphere.

* J.C. Shepherd and G.A. Jellicoe – Italian Gardens of the Renaissance, 1925.

See also Robert Chitham – Measured Drawing for Architects, 1980; and
George Saumarez Smith – Sketchbooks: Collected Measured Drawings
and Architectural Sketches, 2021.

208
‘Platonic’ section ‘construction’ section

‘Platonic’ plan ‘construction’ plan

These drawings are based on measurements my sons and I The construction drawings should tell how the building
took of a small summerhouse in the grounds of Standen in West is constructed. Platonic drawings should tell how it might
Sussex, England. The house – and presumably the summerhouse be occupied. Thus the latter are the drawings that are more
too – was designed by the Victorian Arts and Crafts architect concerned with place-making. Of course both are important.
Philip Webb in the early 1890s. In a real project, the design drawings are the ones you would
There are two main kinds of plan and section drawings: discuss with a client to explore how the proposed building will be
‘construction’ drawings (right) and ‘design’ or ‘Platonic’ drawings inhabited. The construction drawings are those you would give to
(left). In ‘construction’ drawings your intention is to show how the building contractor to communicate how it should be built.
your building is made, so you show the different materials and the Neither the construction nor the Platonic drawings are
ways in which they fit together. In ‘design’ drawings your intention primarily about the appearance of the building. The former
is to show the space of your place, what it accommodates and its are mainly about the design’s conception, the latter about its
relationship with its context, so (in the latter) you show none of realisation in physical form. You would do further drawings to
the cross-sectional constructional detail; you show all the solid show the building’s appearance. Being sensible to and clear about
material that the section cuts through – building and ground – in different sorts of drawings and what they may be used for is an
the same way with no joins. important part of thinking as an architect.

E XERCISE 18: measured drawing 209

E X ERCISE 19: set t i ng dow n spac e -t i me r u le s
Architecture sets the spatial matrix of our lives. Experiment
with the ways in which you can manage the use of space by
setting down ‘rules’ in the form of walls, doorways and other
architectural elements.
Games pitches are clear examples. A cricket pitch is an
essential rule-setting frame for the game. Not shown in the
sketch below are the distant boundary, the umpires and the
changeable ‘architecture’ of the fielders (not to mention the
spectators) but they too are part of the spatial rules within
which the contest proceeds from first ball to final wicket.

It is the same with a tennis court (right) or just about

any other place made for playing a game: from marbles in
the school yard; to the ‘Real’ Tennis played by King Henry
VIII; to the football grounds of the richest soccer clubs; to the
cyberspace worlds of computer games… In all, the architecture
of the space makes an essential contribution… a framework
on which infinite game variations may be played.
A cricket pitch and a tennis court are integral to the rule
systems of their respective games. They consist of architec-
tural elements: threshold; focus; wall. They involve patterns
of people (players and spectators) and of their behaviours and
contribution to the spectacle. Altogether they set the spatial
matrix within which their games are played.
It is similar with houses. A house sets the spatial matrix I once saw a street magician performing at the Edinburgh Festival.
(He was good!) To establish his place he positioned his table (as
within which the life of its inhabitants is ordered. There are the focus of the performance – an altar of magic) near a wall, and
places for cooking, eating, sitting watching television, work- then carefully strung out a rope defining a rectangle of pavement
(his ‘circle’ of place). This set the spatial rules for the audience,
ing, sleeping, growing plants... It is the same with all archi- who were not allowed to enter (cross the threshold) unless invited
tecture… architecture sets ‘rules’ for the occupation of space. to participate in a trick.

210
 In his essay ‘The Berber House’*
the French anthropologist and philos-
opher Pierre Bourdieu described the
spatial organisation of the houses of
some north African people (right). The
layout represents their social structures
and spiritual beliefs.
The tents of desert tribes in Libya
are organised to divide the realm of the
women from that of the men (middle
right). The realm of the women is larger
because that is where the work is done.
The accommodation of these desert
tents is managed by moveable fabric
screens and tent roofs, to provide shade,
supported by posts and guy ropes. Berber house, plan
Architecture also sets the spatial
frame for rituals and ceremonies. In his
book Black Elk Speaks, John Neihardt
recounts descriptions of the layout of
settlement and ceremonial sites as told
to him by an old Sioux chief. Sometimes
complex rules determined how camps
were to be set out, relating them to
the wider world. Some of the rituals
involved intricate dances performed
strictly according to the spatial rules
set down by the prescribed ritual area.
Such ceremonial sites laid down – lit-
erally on the ground – detailed lines
according to which the rituals should
be performed (bottom right). Complex
rituals were performed within a pre- desert tent, Libya, plan
cise armature of markers indicating
the cardinal directions from a centre
to the great circle of the horizon. A
warrior might have to perform ritual
movements, perhaps walking from a
central post, across a floor of flowers,
towards each of the cardinal points
in turn for a long period of time,
maybe from dawn to dusk, or through
the night. In such circumstances,
the site becomes the framework for the
choreography of the ritual.

* Pierre Bourdieu – ‘The Berber House’, trans.

in Mary Douglas, ed. – Rules and Meanings,
1973.
See also Amos Rapoport – House Form and
Culture, 1969. Native American ceremonial site, plan

E XERCISE 19: set ting down space -time rules 211

 In his film Dogville (2003), Lars von Trier alludes to E X E RC I SE 19 a – make up your own spatial rules
the way architecture sets the rules of spatial interaction by
representing the location of the story – a tiny country town You might have done this as a child in school. Many play-
– as white lines on a black floor. ground games depend on spatial rules laid out in chalk or
scratched into the soil. In this exercise you can relive some
of those childhood memories: playing hopscotch, marbles,
cricket, baseball…
But as well as doing this, try to make up a new ‘game’,
one that is not purely a game but seems to occupy a middle-
ground between a competitive game and a life situation.
Maybe you did something like this too when you were a child:
playing ‘house’, or ‘hospital’. Decide on how you are going to
do this: by drawing lines on the floor (like Lars von Trier,
left); by using a kit of parts (like in the beach place, left); or
by some other means – rocks, driftwood, seaweed… (When
a child in school, my wife and her friends would sweep leaves
into an outline of the walls of a pretend house so they could
The lines on the floor, like chalk lines on a blackboard, play ‘home’, with a front door, places to eat, to sleep etc.)
define the territories of the streets, houses and other buildings Create a spatial composition, on the beach or in the
of the town. Like the lines of a games pitch, they set down the woods (wherever you are), that constitutes a system of ‘rules’
spatial rules within which the story is played out. for interaction. This might be interaction between two or more
Even on the beach we organise our space, making places people; or it might involve one person in some sequential
for parents and for children, in sun and shade, and with places process or ritual such as: preparing a meal; conducting some
for storing our belongings. We have places to sunbathe, to form of religious service; accessing a secure environment…
watch other people, to play make-believe games of driving You will realise when doing this that you have been subject to
speedboats through the surf. We know that life in this little spatial rule systems many times: in shops, airports, religious
temporary home is played according to our spatial rules. settings… even in your own home.

This boy has attempted to assert a spatial rule to protect his place
on the beach. (Here words have become architecture.)

See also Children as Place-Makers, in the Analysing Architecture

Notebook series.

212
The plan of a wealthy Victorian English family’s house (above)
is laid out like the board for a sophisticated social game that
involves many different characters with different roles and
powers. The themes of the game are class, status, money,
leisure… and service. In the family’s section (to the right) there
are rooms dedicated to billiards, reading, eating, dancing…;
while in the servants’ wing there are rooms for cooking, washing,
cleaning silver… and even specifically for milk and meat. Notice
the relationships between: the kitchen and the dining room (to
facilitate the serving of food); the butler’s room and the front
door (where important visitors may be received), and the room
for silver (so it may be guarded); the front door and the business
room and billiard room (so that business visitors may be dealt with
and revellers leave late at night, without disturbing the rest of the
house). These are all components of the rule system by which the
‘game’ was played. (This house is now a boarding school for girls Adcote, Shropshire, Richard Norman Shaw, 1873
where the spatial rule system laid down by the architecture lends
itself to different games.) ‘It is best if the billiard-room can be situated next to a special
entrance by which visitors may enter in the evening and
leave, possibly late at night, without coming into contact with
the rest of the household. The billiard-room often has its own
cloakroom and lavatory…’
‘Besides the front–door into the garden, there is always
another entrance for tradesmen, etc. leading into the kitchen
quarters… There is yet another separate luggage-entrance,
which again occurs in all large country-houses. This door is
not far from the front-door, so that when a visitor has been
driven up and set down at the door, his carriage may move
on to the luggage-entrance, where his trunk is handed over
to the house-servants. The door lies on the dividing-line
between the residential and the working parts of the house,
very near the steward’s room and not far from the back stairs
that lead to the bedrooms and visitors’ rooms.’

The observations above, from Herman Muthesius’s Das englische

Haus (1904; translated by Janet Seligman as The English House
in 1979), do not refer specifically to Adcote, but they could. See if
you can find the different doorways mentioned and spin your own
narrative as to how they might be used and how they play into the
spatial rule system that Richard Norman Shaw’s architecture sets
down. And next time you watch a historical movie or a TV series
set in a grand English country house in its heyday – ‘Downton
Abbey’ (Julian Fellowes, 2011–15) springs to mind – don’t just
follow the narrative of the screenplay. Make yourself conscious
It is no wonder that country houses were a model for actual board of the ways in which the architecture, the layout of the house, its
games such as Cluedo… in which the theme of murder and doorways and functionally specific rooms… establish a spatial
detection is added. The grid and the doorways, as well as the rule system that frames the action, the relationships between
room layout, are part of the architecture of the game. characters… the ‘game’.

E XERCISE 19: set ting down space -time rules 213

 1 spy the doorway 10 down to the forest
E X E RC I SE 19 b – experiment with time as an element

Try making a sequence of places in the landscape that takes a

person through a series of situations and experiences.
In these exercises you have already encountered time as
an element of architecture. The doorway that some students
made on the highest point of a sand dune is an example (above
and on page 176). The doorway may be a static object identi-
fying a particular stationary threshold at which the person
sees the ocean or smells the forest, but it also sets the focus
2 find the pathway 9 smell the trees
for short series of experiences involving the element of time.
You can draw a series of experiences as (what film
makers call) a storyboard. This is not only a way of recording
experiences but a way of designing an orchestrated sequence
of experiences too. Your storyboard for the dune doorway
might look like this (right). There is no need for the drawings
to be elaborate. The sequence runs from top to bottom on the
left hand side and then up the right. It starts from the moment
you spy the doorway (1) – an unnatural presence – on top of
the dune; it piques your curiosity; you want to investigate. As
you approach you notice a pathway leading up to the doorway 3 climb the dune 8 climb the dune

(2); it is inviting you to approach, to investigate further. So

you climb the dune (3). Getting nearer (4) you glimpse the sea
and horizon; they draw you up the final slope. At the top (5),
you occupy the doorway, you are in the place the doorway
identifies; you have reached what you thought was your goal;
now you have a panoramic view of the beach and ocean. You
pause. Then the sea draws you down the other side of the dune
(6); maybe you walk as far as the water’s edge. Eventually, you
turn around… and see the doorway again on top of the dune
(7); it draws you back. Up the dune you go again (8); now the 4 glimpse the sea 7 turn back

backdrop is not the sea but the forest. You reach the doorway
(9); once more you occupy the place the doorway identifies;
for a moment it is your temple. But something else happens…
you become aware of the perfume of the pine forest; the
doorway marks that spot too. Maybe you experience a frisson
standing in that doorway; it feels affirming to be framed (like
something special); but you cannot stay there forever (after
all, you are not a god), so you walk back down the dune and
explore the forest (10). How long did this take? For however
long it was, you were caught in the architecture’s narrative. 5 cross the threshold 6 down to the beach

214
 The little ‘place-poem’ of the dune doorway is perhaps
powerful enough; simplicity is often best. But you could
consider ways in which you might extend its narrative: per-
haps by providing a goal to reach after passing through the
doorway. Maybe your goal is a marker on the beach, a focus,
the next step in a longer journey... or a seat on which you can
imagine yourself sitting like King Canute attempting to hold
back the tide, or watch for a ship returning from abroad... Or
perhaps the goal is something unattainable like the mythical
birthplace of a god or a lover beyond the sea?
Endless House, plan

Friedrich Kiesler included time as an element in his design for

an Endless House (above; 1947–61, but unbuilt except in model
form). The plan, based on a hand-drawn squiggle (made without
conscious formal control), was designed with no culmination, no
heart… to give its occupants a sense of being engaged in endless
movement, never quite able to rest.
But time-based architecture does not necessarily depend
on the movement of the person. Because the world changes
constantly, architecture changes too: with the seasons, with age,
with the weather… A person standing still in a stone circle will see
the shadows move through the day and be able to tell the time by
them. From the changing position of sunrise and sunset they will
be able to gauge the passage of the year too.
Alternatively, your doorway might be the entrance Kiesler played with this idea in his Endless House. He
designed a ‘colour clock’ (below) made from prisms and mirrors
into a labyrinth… or as in many children’s stories, a portal set in its wall. As the sun moved through the sky its light, refracted
into another world. Maybe, as in stories of war, it marks the by the prisms, would cast different colours on the interior walls.
The occupants could tell the time by the colour of the light –
moment when you become exposed to enemy fire; maybe it
gradually changing from red at dawn, blue at noon, to green in
is where your life ends… or begins. the evening.
Looking in the other direction, the forest might be the
realm of your extended narrative. You might build a simple
enclosure amongst the trees, hiding a space and generating a
sense of mystery about what might be inside… with an obscure
entrance that engenders a feeling of trepidation…

The possibilities are endless. Let your imagination

run. When you include time as an element of architecture it
becomes like music or film, a medium through which you can
elicit various emotions and responses. Orchestrating experi-
ence is a rich dimension of architecture. You can steer people
through a series of experiences just as a storyteller takes her
listeners through the episodes, the lulls and the climaxes, of a
screenplay. Being in charge of the organisation of space gives Endless House, ‘colour clock’

you, as an architect, licence to be in charge of the experience

For the Endless House see Twenty-Five Buildings Every Architect Should
of time too. Use that license well. Understand.

E XERCISE 19: set ting down space -time rules 215

I N YOU R NO T EBOOK : spac e -t i me r u le s
From your own experience and from examining plans pub-
lished in journals etc., collect examples where spatial layouts
set the ‘rules of engagement’ between people, or between a
person and a process or activity. Draw plans with annotations
to indicate the ways in which the spatial organisation frames
a relationship/process/activity. Distinguish between those
that set strict rules and those that allow variation.

judge

clerk

lawyers
witness

jury

press
defendant
(dock)

public (gallery)
Though open to infinite variation in layout, the relationships of the
essential components of a traditional Japanese tea garden set
down a system of spatial rules that determine the way in which
the tea ceremony is conducted. The rules cover the time from
the guests’ arrival, their waiting to be led to the tea house, their
approach and admission to its interior, the arrangement of the
ceremony… through to the guests’ departure. Even the precise
A courtroom is a powerful example of how spatial organisation pathways the guests take through the garden are laid down by
sets down the ‘rules of a game’. There are specific places for meandering lines of stones, by a gateway in a fence, by pausing
all the main players in that serious and consequential process for hand-washing at a fountain… And entry into the tea-house
in which a person – the accused in the dock – is tried for some itself is conditioned by the size and position of the doorway, the
misdemeanour or crime, which might be driving too fast… or requirement to remove shoes… The whole is an aesthetically
murder. The seriousness of the legal process is underpinned and exquisite setting for a precisely determined ritual, taking place in
reinforced by the careful spatial organisation of the courtroom. time and space, framed and ordered by architecture.
(This is the nineteenth-century courtroom of The Judge’s By contrast, an empty space – a smooth beach freshly
Lodgings in Presteigne, Wales.) At the focus of the room is the cleaned by the tide, a frozen lake, a flat desert scoured by the
presiding judge. In front of the judge is the clerk to the court. wind… – is devoid of ‘rules’, ultimately flexible, the realm of
Around a table in front of him/her are the lawyers for the defence freedom… but also of emptiness, of being lost.
and prosecution. Raised on show in the dock is the defendant, Think carefully about the pros and cons of spatial rules and
the person accused and under trial. To the sides are the jury and, of their absence: how running, skating, dancing… is fun and
opposite, a box for the witnesses. A principle of justice is that it liberating; but also how spatial rules provide a frame for life,
should be ‘open’ for all to see, so there is a gallery for the public security, knowing where you are. Lost in an endless desert is not
to watch the proceedings, and a box for media reporters. The a good place to be, but neither is being incarcerated in a prison
proceedings involve time too: from the second the judge enters cell or exasperated in a labyrinth. Architecture – the universal
and the defendant is brought up from the cells below… to the language of place-making – can deal in the complete spectrum:
ultimate moment when the verdict is delivered and the miscreant from openness and freedom, to restrictive discipline. As with many
is taken back down to face his or her incarceration. things, maybe the middle ground is good.

216
 SEC T ION FOU R
add it iona l exercise s
217
SECTION FOUR – additional exercises

T utors in schools of architecture set their students many

different kinds of project to develop their capacity for
design. Often these are functionally related: design a school,
into play the real world context and content, between which
architecture creates an interface, builds a bridge. These
exercises have included analysing site conditions and the
a housing development, an arts centre… Often too they are ways in which they can contribute to architecture, as well
site specific; a particular location is given. Such exercises are as the ways in which the content – the person, an activity,
of course important preparation for professional life as an an inanimate object, an atmosphere… – is also an essential
architect, where clients will own a particular parcel of land ingredient of place-making. They have explored the ways in
and commission their architect to design a house, a hotel, a which architecture can orchestrate experience, set rules, and
block of offices, a shopping mall… exploit the dimension of time.
But for a rounded education, and to optimise fluency But just as the workings of verbal language, even at
in the universal language of place-making, it is important to a sub-functional level, are not just a matter of basics but
supplement those function-related projects with others that also include emotional and poetic considerations, so too the
focus on the underlying ways in which architecture works underlying workings of architecture, at its sub- (or supra-)
across all briefs/programs. Writers – from creative writers functional level, can include factors emotional and poetic.
to those who draft legislation, from political speech writers This Section will outline a few studio projects aimed at
to those who write the information on food packaging, from bringing out those emotional and poetic factors in architec-
those who write scientific reports to those who write jokes… ture. Over my years of teaching, I have tried them all with my
– have all learnt their language and the workings of verbal own students, with always entertaining results… certainly for
expression for many years, from their parents and in school, me but also, I believe, for them too.
before they began their professional careers. They are not I hope that these exercises will also bring home to you
thrown into writing a speech for an American president, nor what a rich and ubiquitous field of creativity architecture is.
a love poem or a gag…, without having spent a childhood de- Other arts, rich as they might be too, deal only in a fraction
veloping fluency in their mother language. Along the way, they of the dimensions of human experience that architecture
learnt how to use language to get what they want, to provide involves. We tend to encounter those other arts in relatively
information, to express affection, to make people laugh… small doses: as when we go to a concert, visit an art exhibition,
And as they practised more and more, the sophistication of share a meal, wear a piece of jewellery… But we are immersed
their language and the subtlety of the things they found they in architecture just about all the time, even when out in the
could do with it, increased. It is the same with the ‘language’ landscape. Notice that those other arts all tend to take place
of architecture, which, too, can be poetic as well as practical, framed by architecture: the concert hall; the gallery; the work-
humorous as well as serious. shop; the restaurant or domestic dining room… Architecture
Student architects need to be given opportunities to is the medium that mediates between us and the world. It is
develop their fluency in the underlying (universal) mother ‘the mother of all the arts’. As such, it is not neutral. Archi-
language of architecture (place-making). And such oppor- tects have a responsibility to consider those for whom they
tunities can be provided in ways other than the ubiquitous build; not just as a duty of care (which is non-negotiable) but
function-related brief on a prescribed site. Such studio in terms of enhancing life for everyone.
projects, designed with this in mind, can be challenging and This Section forms the conclusion of this book of
entertaining. And hopefully feed into those programmatic Exercises in Architecture designed to help you ‘think as an
projects in enriching ways; ways that enhance both the architect’. As I complete the book I am well aware that there
experience of those who use the resulting buildings but also are many aspects of architecture that the exercises have not
the intellectual satisfaction of the architect who designs them. covered. We have, for example, hardly touched on the pos-
Most of the exercises already presented in this book sibilities of the vertical dimension in affecting how people
have been aimed at developing fluency in the underlying feel about where they find themselves. Equally, a whole book
language of architecture. They have involved (in Section could be devoted to the contribution of light – natural and
One) exploring the basic spatial grammar/syntax of place- artificial – to place-making. These omissions just go to show
making using children’s building blocks. They have examined how rich and multi-dimensional a field of human creativity
(in Section Two) ordering principles derived from different architecture actually is. You will have to explore them for
kinds of geometry. And (in Section Three) they have brought yourself… And that is how to think as an architect.

218
E X ERCISE 20: plac e de scr ipt ion s i n l iterat u re
‘The cold domed room of the tower These exercises are about engagement, how you might engage those who experience
waits. Through the barbicans the shafts your architecture in ways that are richer and have more dimensions than merely
of light are moving ever, slowly ever
as my feet are sinking, duskward over being a spectator of its visible form (as might be pictured in a photograph). The
the dial floor. Blue dusk, nightfall, deep previous exercises focused on experiential perceptions and appreciation of places.
blue night. In the darkness of the dome
they wait, their pushedback chairs, There are other ways of tuning your architect’s imagination to the multi-sensual
my obelisk valise, around a board of dimensions of place-making. One is by reference to the ways in which creative
abandoned platters. Who to clear it? He
writers – novelists, songwriters… – describe places as part of their narratives.
has the key. I will not sleep there when
this night comes. A shut door of a silent Your mission (if you choose to accept it…) is – while enjoying a novel or moving
tower entombing their blind bodies.’ to a song – to find passages that describe place with sufficient suggested detail to
James Joyce – Ulysses (1922), 1968, p. 55.
enable you to attempt to draw it: first as a picture; then as an architectural plan
Joyce’s fictional description does allude to and section. (I always find this task is a lot more difficult than I expect.)
a real place, a vaulted room in the Martello
tower at Sandycove near Dublin. It is now There are many, but some of the best authors to explore for this exercise are
a museum. Charles Dickens, James Joyce (left) and the Nobel Prize winning Colombian novelist
Dickens’ description (below) is of a real
Gabriel García Márquez. Below are a few of my own attempts to follow the parts
place too, now demolished. played by doorways in The Trial (1914–15, 1925) by Franz Kafka.
‘I accompanied the brisk matron up
another barbarous staircase, into a
better kind of loft devoted to the idiotic
and imbecile. There was at least Light
in it, whereas the windows in the
former wards had been like the sides
of school-boys’ bird-cages. There was
strong grating over the fire here, and,
holding a kind of state on either side
of the hearth, separated by the breadth
of this grating, were two old ladies in
a condition of feeble dignity, which
was surely the very last and lowest
reduction of self-complacency, to be
found in this wonderful humanity of
ours.’
Charles Dickens – ‘Wapping Workhouse’ The warder blocks K’s way The inquisitor sits K waits in his own room for
(1860), in Night Walks, 2010. back into his own room. accusingly inside K’s room. the return of a neighbour.

Light under a door A man stands ‘crucified’ in K sees through a doorway

indicates occupancy. a doorway. that it is snowing.
This is one of my attempts to draw the plan
of Kamo no Chōmei’s Hut Ten Feet Square
Exercises like this give your mind a chance to develop a fuller and more poetic
as described by him in ‘An Account of My capacity for imagining the character and qualities of the places you design in your
Hut’ (1212 CE).* own architectural work. They also give you ideas that you might otherwise not
have had. (They provide an excuse for reading some really good novels too, and to
* Included in Donald Keene, trans. and ed. –
Anthology of Japanese Literature, 1968. realise how some writers are also interesting architects.)

EXERCISE 20: place descriptions in literature 219

E X ERCISE 21: a rch ite c t u re w it hout sig ht
I hope that some of the preceding exercises in this book have
persuaded you otherwise, but often architecture is portrayed
and discussed in the media as primarily a visual art. People
complain vehemently if they do not like the look of a build-
ing. And architecture is marketed, in print media and on the
Internet, predominantly through photography.
But what of architecture for those of us who are blind
(to whatever degree). Does architecture no longer exist? Of
course not. Those of us who are blind occupy places just as
much as those of us who can see. Blindness can cause obvious
problems in moving around and using places, but why should
the enjoyment of places not be stimulated just as much for
those who cannot see as those who can. And even the enjoy-
ment of everyone – sighted and partially-sighted – will be
enhanced if architects consider the contribution of senses
other than sight in designing places.
Think about how you might design a place for blind
people; not just a place that addresses the possible practical
problems – of finding one’s way around and freedom from risk
of harm – but a place that also provides aesthetic pleasure, cavernous echo or a subtle reverberation, a muffled
stimulation, even entertainment. space with a dead sound…; maybe it is important
Here are some of the dimensions and factors you might to avoid irritating and distracting noises, such as
consider. You will think of your own too, especially if you air-conditioning in a lecture room…;
yourself are blind or partially-sighted. If you are not, perhaps • we all experience places dynamically, moving from
you can spend some time blindfolded, and maybe speak to one to another to another; how would you help a
someone who has to experience the world without fully func- sightless person do this; perhaps with sound or per-
tioning eyes. In any case, make yourself aware of the factors fume or physical guides – hand-rails, foot kerbs…;
in our experience of place that are not brought to us through even if partially-sighted maybe we can see colours
the eyes. These include: or variations in light.
• smell, perfume, odour, stink…; they say you sell a You might make drawings of your place for a blind
house quicker if it smells of fresh-baked bread or person; you might write or tell it as a narrative; it would be
brewing coffee; but the smell of a place can be more even better if you could experiment with your places at full
subtle; (it might involve the sense of taste too); scale, in the real world. Take care not to create dangerous
• we can see textures but, more importantly, we feel situations though!
them – the hardness of stone, the softness of wool, When I was teaching at the Welsh School of Architec-
the sliminess of mud… – with our hands and feet, ture, I would ask a student group to take over a whole studio
and other parts of our bodies; and convert it into an environment to be experienced blind.
• with our skin we sense temperature too, maybe of I was not allowed to see what they were doing. So, at the end
surfaces but also of the air around us; we can enjoy of the project came a moment of trepidation. The students
comfortable warmth or refreshing coolness; we don’t would blindfold me, take off my shoes, and (gently) push me
like excess of either; through the doorway of the studio, leaving me to find my way
• we can sense air movement and ventilation too; a through the various sight-independent experiences they had
draught might be irritating but a waft of fresh air in orchestrated for me. (Some of them did come in with me, to
a stuffy room is welcome; warn me if I was about to do something dangerous.)
• we hear places, they have acoustic characteristics
and qualities; we can swamp a place with music but
See also Juhani Pallasmaa – The Eyes of the Skin: Architecture and the
perhaps acoustic subtleties are more important – a Senses (1996), 2005.

220
E X ERCISE 22: el icit i ng a n emot iona l re spon se
I was once taken to court for driving too quickly. Being made ‘STEPPING INTO THE LIGHT. I have always been intrigued by
to stand accused in the elevated dock of a nineteenth-century the specific moment when, as we sit waiting in the audience,
the door to the stage opens and a performer steps into the
courtroom designed to be intimidating was unnerving. light: or, to take the other perspective, the moment when a
I have heard that Asplund – the same architect who performer who waits in semi-darkness sees the same door
open, revealing the lights, the stage, and the audience.’
designed the Woodland Chapel (page 33) – gave the grand Antonio Damasio – The Feeling of What Happens: Body, Emotion and the
open stair in his Gothenburg Law Courts (1936–7) a very Making of Consciousness, 2000.

shallow pitch to help calm the nerves of those approaching

the courts, which are situated on the upper floor. But the I have run studio projects challenging students to build
stair’s openness and length also expose and prolong that same installations (full-scale) intended to elicit emotional responses
approach. The stair elicits conflicting emotions. Did Asplund in their colleagues and tutors. (I was usually the first ‘victim’.)
intend to sooth or shame those facing justice? You might like to try this. You can choose the emotion you
I once visited an old and simple, stone-built house set wish to provoke – fear, shock, amusement, security, privilege,
in its own grounds in the warm climate of northern Turkey. frustration, embarrassment, self-satisfaction… – but you
Its shady/sunlit verandah was the most relaxing place I have should not tell your ‘victims’ what it is. (Neither should you
been. My wife fell asleep. put them at risk of any real harm!) The test of your installa-
I do not often get invited to visit the grand home of a tion will be whether they feel the emotion you intend. But you
British peer of the realm. But I was once. The approach to the will also learn something if their response is different from
house, after motoring slowly down a long forested driveway, what you wanted/expected. Be bold rather than timid… but
was daunting. The day was sunny but the entrance, atop some also avoid danger.
steps, was in gloom. When the door opened I could see – on Installations – as you find in art galleries – can be
axis – a rectangular patch of bright sunlight in the distance. condensed works of architecture, discrete places where
The doorway to the terrace on the other side of the house was perceptions are stimulated, emotions heightened. They are
open. I was led along the axis through grand and shady rooms the universal language of place-making’s equivalent of poems.
towards the light. Emerging onto the terrace, I could not be Sometimes they treat visitors as spectators but are more
other than impressed by a broad and distant vista of acres of engaging when people are ingredients. See for example
sunlit garden and pastoral estate stretching to the horizon. Bernard Bazile’s ‘Brilliance’ (1980), illustrated in Doorway
The architecture had worked its magic. (page 81), an installation where the artist created a hardly
Architecture as place-making involves orchestrating perceptible threshold which was just enough to make you
emotions, whether the simple emotion expressed by a sigh hesitate before stepping over it, nervous you might be at risk.
of contentment when settling into a comfortable chair by Your installations may be powerful in their own right,
a crackling wood-fire in winter, or the nervous wait in the but what you learn from them will inform your conventional
wings of a stage before a big performance. Take a while to architectural design work too. Architecture can be about a
allow your own mind to remember events where architecture great deal more than photographable form.
played its part in an emotional experience: maybe going for One of the most effective student installations I remem-
an interview; sitting in an examination venue; meeting a date; ber made its ‘victim’ dance (and not by shooting at their feet
entering a restaurant in a rough part of a foreign city… Note as in Western movies). Think about how you might achieve
down your memories in your notebook and try to sketch the this by means of architecture: directly, in an installation;
plan and section of the place and its part in your emotional more subtly in, for example, the design of a gallery, garden…
experience. Attune yourself to the subtle ways in which even a hospital. It might be especially appropriate as an aim
architecture can elicit emotional responses; and to how those in designing a school for dance, where the architecture of the
emotional responses may have been prompted by some of building might contribute to the pedagogy.
the non-visual factors mentioned in the previous exercises. Think too about the ways architecture might provide
There was a button on the front of a box in an art gallery reassurance to those in states of worry or trauma… in medical
in West Germany in the 1970s. (I do not remember the artist.) centres, hospitals, psychiatric wards… anywhere that people
When I pressed the button, a dramatic sound erupted – the find themselves feeling vulnerable.
distant explosion of a nuclear bomb. It was terrifying but also
disturbingly empowering. See also Peter Zumthor – Atmospheres, 2006.

EXERCISE 22: eliciting an emotional response 221

E X ERCISE 23: f ra m i ng
We speak of framing an argument and of framing the answer
to a question. One might claim that this use of the word ‘fram-
ing’ is metaphorical: a frame defines the territory of a picture
and puts it in its place; a frame is a support structure, which
provides sense and stability, materially and spatially. Thus we
might take our claim one step further and suggest that the
above uses of ‘framing’ constitute an architectural metaphor.
As you will have picked up through the exercises on
the preceding pages, despite the current predominance of
photography (still, motion and computer generated) in the
promotion of architecture, it should be remembered that
architecture is primarily a matter of framing life, activity, Tracey Emin’s ‘My Bed’: acknowledged as a ‘self portrait’ –
usually framed in a typical white-walled gallery space, how
possessions, atmospheres… Due to technological and cul- would you frame it?
tural changes, architecture finds itself more often cast as the
content of a frame (a picture frame) than a frame (a rich and
multi-dimensional frame) itself.
To attempt to temper this current situation (in the minds
of architecture students at least) I have run studio projects
entitled ‘FRAMING’. In these I give students a ‘collection’ for
which they should provide a sequence of architectural frames
– as a sort of ‘art+’ gallery. A sample collection is illustrated
alongside. As you will see, these are not all conventional art
gallery exhibits. Some are, but others are abstract, more
atmospheric, perhaps subject to growth and decay, and appeal
to more than one sense. Some are themselves frames. (So
how do you frame a frame?) Some are static and apparently
unchanging. Some might be housed internally, others outside,
some in-between. All involve time: the time it takes to move
around the gallery from one situation to the next; the time it
A Magnolia tree: that will need earth and space and sunlight
takes for some exhibits to decay, or to change with the sea-
and breeze…; it will change in appearance dramatically with the
sons; diurnal time, as shadows shift in sunlit spaces and the weather and the seasons; it may itself be used to frame a place…
transition from night to day and back again; the tempo and
duration of music and dance…
The purpose of this exercise is to focus on the primary
role of architecture as a matter of making frames, not just
for objects but also for activities, processes, atmospheres…
You may choose your own site for this art+ gallery,
the context within which your matrix of frames is situated
and which contributes to your architecture. Remember that
frames (whether metaphorical or physical) mediate between
a here and a there. The ‘there’ is as important as the ‘here’.
Your design may well become a sequence of discreet
frames, but it would be better if you could find ways to make
them work together like the overlapping layers of an orchestral Linkage with something remote: which could be a distant
score. Some exhibits may need solitude (by your judgement) feature in the land- or cityscape context of your art+ gallery;
but it could also be something remote brought to presence
others might find synergy in company with others. It’s your technologically: the surface of Mars; live speeches in their own
choice. languages by politicians around the world…

222
 Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight’ piano sonata: the sound of it; not a performer sitting playing
the piano; not the sheet music; and certainly no information boards with pictures of
Beethoven telling when and how the music came to be written and acquire the name
‘Moonlight’. Just (!) frame the music.

A real apple: it will be fresh and shiny

only for a few days; then it will wrinkle and
shrivel…; but you cannot throw it away.

‘Portrait of a Man’ known as ‘Il

Condottiere’ by Antonello da Messina
(1475; 360mm high, 300mm wide not
including frame): include the frame. You
will need to think about light, position,
relationship to space and to the viewer…
and its role in the wider composition.

section Melancholy – a mood: this place should

have no content other than an atmosphere
of reflective sadness. Maybe think about it
plan as a chapel of remembrance or a cenotaph
for a fallen heroine.

And, as compensation, Happiness: this

space should lift the spirits of those who
find themselves in it; as with Melancholy,
there should be no content, just the mood.
A dancer: who will need space to move;
The visitors themselves: how do you
what else do dancers need; and what
frame them; their pathways through the
about the relationship they might have
exhibits; their interactions with each; their
with those who watch; are they apart or
entrances and their exits…?
mingled; do they draw the watcher into
the dance?
Remember there are no authoritatively
‘right’ answers… though there may
James Turrell’s ‘Second Meeting’ be many ‘wrong’ or boring ones!!! You You might think this an odd exercise…
(1989): a 20 foot (6 metre) cube of space, might need help from your friends to but there is nothing on these pages that
provided with perimeter bench seating; distinguish… If you put your ideas on
its focus is the sky seen through a 12 foot Instagram, please tag: you might not at some time in the future
opening in the ceiling. @analysingarchitecture be expected to frame architecturally.

EXERCISE 23: framing 223

ACK NOW L EDGE ME N TS
Sincere thanks to: John Bush for pointing me in the direc- In addition to those mentioned in the first edition, sin-
tion of Peter Brook and his ideas on informal theatre spaces cere thanks also go to: Lazron Matia for information on the
in the book The Open Circle; Tom Killian for sending me shed on page 75; Dr Christopher Ridgway, Curator at Castle
the description of Nick’s camp from Ernest Hemingway’s Howard, for helping me with my drawings of The Temple of
‘Big Two-Hearted River’; Jeff Balmer for inviting me to the the Four Winds on page 125; Fran Ford and Trudy Varcianna
Beginning Design Education conference held at his university at Routledge for their support throughout the project; Alanna
in 2010 and Michael T. Swisher for sharing his ideas on First Donaldson for seeing the book through production and Mike
Year architectural education; Lisa Landrum for pointing me Hamilton for his careful proof reading; and, last but by no
to the Greek verb ‘to architect’; Matthew Brehm for expressing means least, those generations of students who have put
interest in my notebooks; Robert Atkinson for showing me the up with, and often enthusiastically engaged in, the various
work of his students studying for an ‘A’ level in architecture; exercises I have set them, particularly in the wind and rain
and Alan Paddison for reporting on La Bajoulière. of Welsh and Scottish beaches.

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Arthur Mee, ed. – The King’s England: Norfolk, Green Pastures Simon Unwin – Exercises in Architecture: Learning to Think as an
and Still Waters, Hodder and Stoughton, London, 1940. Architect, Routledge, Abingdon, 2012.
Charles Moore and others – The Place of Houses, Holt Rinehart Simon Unwin – Metaphor: an exploration of the metaphorical
and Winston, New York, 1974. dimensions and potential of architecture (Analysing
Edward S. Morse – Japanese Homes and Their Surroundings Architecture Notebook series), Routledge, Abingdon, 2019.
(1886), Dover, New York, 1961. Simon Unwin – ‘Notebook Architecture’, in Wendy Gunn, ed. –
Charles P. Mountford – Ayer’s Rock (1965), Seal Books, 1977. Fieldnotes and Sketchbooks, Peter Lang, Frankfurt, 2009.
Herman Muthesius – Das englische Haus (1904), trans. Janet Simon Unwin – Shadow: the architectural power of withholding
Seligman as The English House, Crosby Lockwood Staples, light (Analysing Architecture Notebook series), Routledge,
London, 1979. Abingdon, 2020.
John G. Neihardt – Black Elk Speaks (1932), University of Simon Unwin – Skara Brae (ebook), Apple Books, 2012.
Nebraska Press, 1979. Simon Unwin – The Ten Most Influential Buildings in History:
Christian Norberg-Schulz – Existence, Space and Architecture, Architecture’s Archetypes, Routledge, Abingdon, 2017.
Studio Vista, London, 1971. Simon Unwin – Twenty-Five Buildings Every Architect Should
Kevin Nute – Place, Time and Being in Japanese Architecture, Understand, Routledge, Abingdon, 2015.
Routledge, London, 2004. Simon Unwin – Villa Le Lac (ebook), Apple Books, 2012.
Richard Padovan – Proportion: Science, Philosophy, Architecture, Aldo van Eyck – ‘Labyrinthian Clarity’, in Donat, ed. – World
E. & F.N. Spon, London, 1999. Architecture 3, Studio Vista, London, 1966.
Juhani Pallasmaa – The Eyes of the Skin: Architecture and the Aldo van Eyck – ‘Place and Occasion’ (1962), in Hertzberger and
Senses (1996), John Wiley & Sons, Chichester, 2005. others – Aldo van Eyck, Stichting Wonen, Amsterdam, 1982.
Fernand Pouillon – Les pierres sauvages, Editions du Seuil, 1964; Dom H. van der Laan, trans. Padovan – Architectonic Space:
trans. Edward Gillott as The Stones of Le Thoronet, Jonathan Fifteen Lessons on the Disposition of the Human Habitat, E.J.
Cape, London, 1970 Brill, Leiden, 1983.
Amos Rapoport – House Form and Culture, Prentice Hall, New Vitruvius, trans. Hickey Morgan (1914) – The Ten Books on
Jersey, 1969. Architecture (1stC BCE), Dover, New York, 1960, available at:
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Cambridge, MA, 1959. (February 2020).
Edward Robbins – Why Architects Draw, MIT Press, Cambridge, Lawrence Weschler – Seeing is Forgetting the Name of the
MA, 1994. Thing One Sees: a Life of Contemporary Artist Robert Irwin,
Colin Rowe – ‘The Mathematics of the Ideal Villa’ (1947), in The University of California Press, Berkeley, 1982.
Mathematics of the Ideal Villa and Other Essays, MIT Press, Kim Williams, ed. and trans. – Daniele Barbaro’s Vitruvius of 1567,
Cambridge, MA, 1976. Birkhäuser, Cham, 2019.
Bernard Rudofsky – Architecture Without Architects, Academy Colin St John Wilson – ‘Masters of Building: Sigurd Lewerentz’, in
Editions, London, 1964. Architects Journal, 13 April, 1988, pp. 31-52.
Bernard Rudofsky – The Prodigious Builders, Secker and Colin St John Wilson – ‘Sigurd Lewerentz: the Sacred Buildings
Warburg, London, 1977. and the Sacred Sites’, in Architectural Reflections: Studies
August Schmarsow, trans. Mallgrave and Ikonomou – ‘The in the Philosophy and Practice of Architecture (1992),
Essence of Architectural Creation’ (1893), in Mallgrave and Manchester U.P., 2000, pp. 110-137.
Ikonomou, trans. and eds. – Empathy, Form, and Space, The Rudolf Wittkower – Architectural Principles in the Age of
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Monica, CA, 1994. Henry Wotton – The Elements of Architecture (1624), reprinted in
Vincent Scully – The Earth, the Temple, and the Gods; Greek facsimile by Gregg International, Farnborough, 1969.
Sacred Architecture, Yale U.P., New Haven and London, 1962. Frances A. Yates – The Art of Memory, Routledge & Kegan Paul,
Gottfried Semper, trans. Mallgrave and Hermann – The Four London, 1966.
Elements of Architecture and Other Writings, MIT Press, Lim Jee Yuan – The Malay House, Institut Masyarakat, Malaysia,
Cambridge, MA, 1989. 1987.
J.C. Shepherd and G.A. Jellicoe – Italian Gardens of the Peter Zumthor – Thinking Architecture, Birkhäuser, Basel, 1998.
Renaissance, Tiranti, London, 1925. Peter Zumthor – Atmospheres, Birkhäuser, Basel, 2006.

BIBLIOGRAPHY 225
INDE X
√2 rectangle 118, 127, 128, 130, 143 Aya Sofya (Hagia Sophia), Istanbul 92 Cappadocia, Turkey 94, 198
3d-printing 161 Ayer’s Rock (Uluru), Australia 174, 186 cardinal directions 24, 54, 55, 56, 57, 129,
9 Square Grid House (Shigeru Ban) 123 182, 211
Bacon, Henry 63 Casa Carlos Beires, Portugal (Siza) 147
Aalto, Alvar 101, 108, 109 Bajoulière, La (France) 8, 23, 83 Casa del Ojo de Agua, Mexico (Dewes and
Abbey of St Benedict, Vaals, Netherlands Bali house 102 Puente) 199
(van der Laan) 92 Balka, Miroslaw 173 Casa Milà, Barcelona, Spain (Gaudi) 153
Abramovic, Marina 32, 66, 184 Bank of England, London (Soane) 108 Casino, Marino, Dublin (Chambers) 135
‘Account of My Hut’ (Kamo no Chōmei) baptism 200 Castelvecchio, Verona (Scarpa) 150
219 Barbaro, Daniele 27, 124 Castlerigg stone circle, England 21
acoustics 220 Barcelona Pavilion (Mies) 43, 112, 113, catafalque 33, 46, 59, 89, 180, 183
Acropolis, Athens 21, 57, 135 138 catenary curve 153
Adam, William 100 barrel 63 cathedral vault 87
Ando, Tadao 146 Basilica di S. Giulio, Isola S. Giulio, Italy 22 cave 50, 94, 171
Adcote, Shropshire (Norman Shaw) 213 Bawa, Geoffrey 108 cella 113
African village 102 bazaar 104 Cemetery Chapel, Turku, Finland
Alberti, Leon Battista 134 Bazile, Bernard 221 (Bryggman) 46, 47, 141
alignment 29, 33, 37, 43, 45, 55, 56, 57, beach places 50, 67, 83, 115, 172, 176, centre 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 24, 25, 27, 29,
58, 79, 162, 182 177, 183, 185, 193, 195, 205, 212 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 52, 54, 55, 56,
altar 22, 31, 32, 33, 36, 38, 39, 42, 45, 46, Beaux-Arts 40, 133, 208 65, 79, 80, 81, 83, 101, 116, 117, 129,
64, 65, 68, 69, 83, 87, 180, 182, 183, 185, bed 25, 26, 30, 32, 61, 64, 177, 200 132, 139, 211
186, 187 bees 98 Cesariano, Cesare di Lorenzo 5, 124, 125,
Anasazi tribes, Colorado 198 Beethoven, Ludwig van 223 129
anthropometry 59, 68, 79, 80, 81, 189 Bénard, Émile 40 Chalabi Architects 97
Apollo Schools, Amsterdam (Hertzberger) ‘Berber House’ (Bourdieu) 211 Chambers, William 135
49 Berlin Wall 183 chance 17, 26, 149, 168
apple 223 Bernini, Gian Lorenzo 47 chancel arch 65
Appleton, Jay 171 ‘Big Two-Hearted River’ (Hemingway) 192 Chapel of Notre-Dame du Haut, Ronchamp
apse 83 Bindesbøll, Michael Gottlieb 39 (Le Corbusier) 47
Arakawa 158 Bioscleave House, Long Island NY (Gins Chapel of the Resurrection, Stockholm
arcade 184 and Arakawa) 158, 159 (Lewerentz) 46, 47
arch 87, 153 birth 47 chapter house 185
ArchDaily 27 bivouac 195 Charlottenhof Palace, Potsdam (Schinkel)
‘architecting’ 6, 10 Black Elk Speaks (Neihardt) 211 142
architectural ideas 13, 17, 19, 145 Blackwell, England (Baillie Scott) 45 chess 14
architectural mind 10 Blenheim Palace (Vanbrugh) 27 Children’s Retreat, Damdana, India (Bhatia)
architecture and philosophy 8, 14, 69, 92, blind people 220 146
126, 149 Baillie Scott, M.H. 45 Chipperfield, David 97, 109, 150
architecture as object 18, 19, 23, 24, 25 Bhatia, Gautam 146 Chiswick Villa, London (Burlington and
architecture drive 8 blocking 136 Kent) 133
Architecture Research Unit 97 blocking an axis 41, 42, 43, 48 choir stall 68
architecture without sight 220 Blore, Edward 50 Chopin, Frédéric 40
arena 21, 25, 186 Bodhi Tree, Bodh Gaya, India 173 choreography 211
Arisawa Villa, Matsue, Japan 46 Bomarzo Gardens, Italy 151 church 31, 39, 43, 58, 65, 83, 133, 182,
artificial cave 4, 8, 24 Bomb House, Portugal (Siza) 147 201
artificial ruin 151 bonding 70 Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem
artificial sky 89 Borges, Jorge Luis 98 173
‘Artist is Present’ (Abramovic) 32, 66 Botta, Mario 136 churchyard 21
Art of Memory (Yates) 173 Boullée, Étienne-Louis 131 circle 20, 23, 25, 30, 34, 54, 64, 65, 70, 79,
Asplund, Erik Gunnar 33, 44, 59, 83, 89, boundary 20, 21, 32, 179 85, 90, 124, 143, 145, 186
109, 132, 141, 162, 221 Bourdieu, Pierre 211 circle of place 19, 21, 24, 25, 30, 32, 33,
asymmetry 42, 135, 136, 139, 140, 141, Bramante, Donato 173 34, 55, 56, 79, 80, 81, 83, 89, 98, 102,
142 bricks 76 111, 112, 116, 117, 129, 132, 138, 162,
Asymtote Architecture 161 ‘Brilliance’ (Bazile) 221 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 186, 188,
Athena 21 broken geometry 151 197, 201
atmosphere 200 Brook, Peter 69, 169 circle of presence 36, 38, 131
Atomic Bomb Dome, Hiroshima 173 Bryggman, Erik 46, 47, 141 circle of protection 197
atrium 184 burial chamber 8, 23, 24, 25 circling the wagons 184
attitudes to geometry 90, 97, 127 Burlington, Lord 133 circumcision 187
Australian aborigine place-making 186, bürolandschaft 115 classic form 83
200, 201 Bursa, Turkey 104 clearing 33
axial symmetry 29, 133, 134, 135, 136 ‘Bushcraft’ (Mears) 193 cloister 22, 105
axis 29, 30, 31, 35, 39, 44, 45, 55, 56, 64, buttress 87 Clootie tree 170
87, 101, 108, 109, 113, 114, 116, 129, Cluedo 213
136, 137, 141, 142, 143, 152, 162, 182, Cairn O’Get, Scotland 38, 47 ‘colour clock’ (Kiesler) 215
183, 184, 195 call centre 69 column 33, 111, 112, 114, 118, 130
axis denial 41, 43, 45, 46 Callen, Andrea 7 columns and beams 86
axis in urban design 36 Calvino, Italo 100 community 64
axis mundi 33, 162, 182 campfire 5, 64 complex geometry 79, 153, 161
axis of penetration and projection 29, 32, Campo dei Fiori, Rome 22 compromise 72, 89, 152
33, 34, 36, 41, 89 candle 173 computer games 210

226
computer-generated form 161 drawing places 202, 204 garden 22
Conan Doyle, Arthur 14 drawing plans and sections 206 Gateway Arch, St Louis MO 153
concrete 75 Dr Chau Chak Wing Building, Sydney, Gaudi, Antonio 153
conditions 152, 194, 195, 197, 198 Australia (Gehry) 158 GEG Mail Order House, Kamen, Germany
conflicting geometries 59, 132 Dreamtime 174 115
confrontation 41, 42, 43, 45, 65, 66 dromos 52 Gehry, Frank 95, 158, 160, 161
conical roof 72 Dubrovnik, Croatia 22 geometric conflicts 89
construction 190 dune doorway 176, 214 geometries of being 54, 79, 102, 106, 116
content and context 20, 80, 162, 205 Dune House, Thorpeness, Suffolk geometry 12, 29, 54, 55, 56, 58, 59, 62,
corbel structure 84, 85, 91 (Jarmund/Vigsnæs) 110 126, 143, 149, 162, 178
Correa, Charles 99 Dunino Den, Scotland 170, 175 geometry of making 24, 54, 55, 70, 71, 72,
‘Cosi Fan Tutte’ (Mozart) 14 Dutch Pavilion, Hanover Expo (MVRDV) 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 89,
cottage 26, 33 159 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 100, 102,
courtroom 216 Dutch prisoner (too big for his cell) 60 106, 107, 109, 110, 112, 116, 117, 126,
courtyard 22, 49, 52, 102, 103, 104, 108 dynamic place 47, 139 128, 131, 132, 143, 146, 151, 157, 158,
courtyard house (Mies) 139 161, 162, 190, 196
crawl doorway 63 Egyptian obelisk 22 geometry of planning 98, 100, 102, 104,
creative capacity 14 Elements of Architecture (Wotton) 27 106, 109, 110, 116, 133, 136
cricket ground 69, 210 Eliasson, Olafur 74 geometry of the world 106, 116, 129
cruck 73 Emily Gap, Australia 186 ger 79
cube 116, 119, 120, 125, 127, 132 Emin, Tracey 222 Gins, Madeline 158
Cubist House, Yamaguchi, Japan (Shinichi Emmett, John T. 27 girl ‘architects’ her world 6
Ogawa) 127 emotion and architecture 20, 27, 34, 48, giving sense 4, 8, 10, 14, 24, 162, 183
cupola 89 59, 66, 176, 179, 200, 215, 218, 221 Glasgow School of Art (Mackintosh) 142
curve 153, 161 empathy 19 Gobi desert 200
Curve Appeal House (WATG) 161 enclosure 34 ‘God’s law’ 92
Endless House (Kiesler) 156, 215 Golden Age 5
Damasio, Antonio 221 enfilade 37, 38, 39, 40 Golden Section rectangle 118, 120, 127,
da Messina, Antonello 223 English Gentleman’s House (Kerr) 140 130, 161
dance 16, 19, 63, 135, 177, 223 entasis 130 ‘Goldilocks’ principle 59, 60, 62
dancing floor 65, 177 entering 20, 30, 32, 132 Gothenburg Law Courts (Asplund) 221
Darmstadtium, Germany (Chalabi Archi- Erechtheion, Athens 135 grammar of architecture 5
tects) 97 Esherick House, Philadelphia (Kahn) 128 grave mound 23, 24
datum 101 Essay on British Cottage Architecture graves 67
datum place 19, 103 (Malton) 26 gravity 16, 55, 70, 76, 77, 85, 90, 91, 92,
defensive formation 184 essence of architecture 4 96, 131, 132, 153, 157
Degas, Edgar 7, 35 excavation 71, 94, 166 Gray, Eileen and Badovici, Jean 28
desert tribes in Libya 211 exclusion 20, 27, 32 Great Court of the British Museum, London
Dewes, Ada and Puente, Sergio 199 exhibition, Basilica, Vicenza (Fehn) 137 (Foster) 93
Dexter, Colin 14 Greek temple 31, 83, 86, 113, 130
Dezeen 27 Farnsworth House (Mies) 7, 82, 86, 110, Greek theatre 11, 21, 25, 132, 177
Dickens, Charles 219 128, 138 Greek theatre, Segesta, Sicily 207
dimensions 55, 60, 61 fault-line 176 grid 111, 114, 123, 126, 162
discovery 42 Featherstone Young 110 ground surface 172
dislocated geometry 144 Fehn, Sverre 137, 139, 147, 172, 176, 199 Group ‘91 107
distortion 95, 97, 157, 159, 160, 162 Fellowes, Julian 213 guard of honour 184
doctors consultation rooms 66 Fifty-by-Fifty-Foot House (Mies) 114, 138 Guggenheim Art Museum, New York
‘Dogville’ (von Trier) 212 fireplace 5, 32 (Wright) 154
dojo 25 Fitzwilliam College Chapel, Cambridge Guggenheim Museum, Bilbao, Spain
dome 83, 89, 125, 131 (MacCormac) 34, 35 (Gehry) 95, 160
Dome of the Rock, Jerusalem 34, 35, 173 ‘Five points towards a new architecture’ (Le
Dominican Motherhouse, Philadelphia Corbusier) 111 Hakusasonsu Villa, Kyoto, Japan 126
(Kahn) 92 flipping perceptions 23, 26 Hamlet 91, 150
Dom-Ino (Le Corbusier) 86, 111 focus 25, 32, 34, 35, 37, 41, 42, 44, 45, 46, Häring, Hugo 108
‘don’t cross’ 212 65, 69, 79, 83, 112, 113, 132, 133, 145, harmony 106, 118, 123
doorway 4, 25, 30, 32, 33, 34, 38, 39, 44, 150, 154, 162, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, Hayden Planetarium, New York (Polshek
45, 51, 52, 56, 58, 61, 63, 65, 66, 70, 84, 185, 188, 210 Partnership) 131, 132
85, 112, 114, 117, 142, 157, 182, 183, ‘folly’ for the Gwangju Design Biennale, hearing 220
184, 185, 188, 189, 197, 214, 219 Korea (Architecture Research Unit) 97 heart 5, 26, 33, 107
doorway axis 29, 31, 37, 40, 41, 42, 43, Fontanella Tea Garden, Mdina, Malta 104 hearth 5, 25, 26, 29, 30, 31, 33, 43, 45, 49,
45, 46, 48, 51, 64, 65, 79, 80, 83, 89, 101, forces beyond control 149, 150, 151 52, 65, 67, 79, 80, 81, 83, 85, 86, 117,
106, 107, 112, 113, 114, 116, 133, 136, forecourt 47 126, 133, 145, 169, 181, 184, 197
139, 140, 142, 162, 182 formlessness 18, 148 Hecker, Zvi 155
doorway place 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 102, 103 fortress 184 Heidegger, Martin 23
doorways aligned 37, 38, 39, 40 Foster, Norman 93 hele stone 34
‘Doorway through which to enter into dark- framework of rules 210 helix 154
ness’ (Sottsass) 188 framing 5, 7, 12, 20, 21, 22, 23, 27, 30, 35, Hemingway, Ernest 192
‘Doorway through which you may not pass’ 37, 49, 54, 58, 64, 66, 67, 69, 73, 89, 95, heroic scale 63
(Sottsass) 188 167, 176, 179, 180, 196, 216, 222 Hertzberger, Herman 49
‘Doorway through which you will meet your framing atmosphere 200 hexagon 98
love’ (Sottsass) 188 free plan 111, 113, 115 hierarchy 30, 31, 34, 37, 38, 40, 51, 100,
‘Downton Abbey’ (Fellowes) 213 Friedrich, Caspar David 177 102, 133, 140
‘Do you want to sleep...?’ (Sottsass) 188 frisson 179, 184 Hindu shrine 39
draught screen 48 full stop 39 homeless 197
drawing 12, 16, 202, 205 fundamentals of architecture 16 horizon 20, 31, 55, 56, 80, 172, 183, 193

INDEX 227
horizontal arch 85 key-stone 87 Masai hunters camp 79, 197
Hôtel de Beauvais, Paris (le Pautre) 108, khan 104 materials 164
152 Kiesler, Friedrich 156, 215 mathematics 11, 16, 54, 116, 119, 120,
house 4, 25 Kilmer, Alfred Joyce 13 126, 153
house, Colombo, Sri Lanka (Bawa) 108 King Canute 215 Mayer, Jürgen 54
House for the Third Millennium (Ushida King’s College Chapel, Cambridge 93 Mears, Ray 193, 195
Findlay) 155 Kolatan & MacDonald architects 160 measured drawing 208
house (Häring) 108 Koolhaas, Rem 114 measuring 61, 62, 162, 189
House of Dun, Scotland (Adam) 100 Korowai tree house 81 Mecca 31, 46, 58, 67, 83, 183
house, Riva San Vitale (Botta) 136 Krzywy Domek (Crooked House), Sopot, Mee, Arthur 168
House that Jack Built 94, 159 Poland (Szotynscy & Zaleski) 94, 159 meeting room 58
hubris 43 Kundmanngasse house, Vienna megaron 43, 48, 80, 83, 86, 107, 113
human geometry 54, 55, 62, 68, 79, 106, (Wittgenstein) 126 Meidum pyramid mortuary temple, Egypt
116, 129, 131, 133, 134, 135, 162, 177 45
human scale 59, 60, 61, 63 labyrinth 112, 113, 215, 216 melancholy 223
hypostyle hall 111 labyrinth entrance 51, 52 memorial 173
ladder 81 memory 174, 178
ideal geometry 24, 54, 79, 116, 117, 118, landscape section 207 memory and place 173
119, 120, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, language 11, 14, 16, 32, 136, 162 Mesa Verde, Colorado 198
128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 135, 143, language and architecture 4, 44 Meteora, Greece 198
145, 147, 149, 151, 152, 157, 161, 162 La Tourette monastery, Lyon, France (Le Metropol Parasol, Seville (Mayer) 54
ideas in architecture 14, 17, 123, 165, 166, Corbusier) 105 Michelangelo Buonarroti 130
179 Laurentian Library, Florence (Michelangelo) Mies van der Rohe 7, 43, 82, 86, 88, 110,
identification of place 5, 6, 7, 18, 19, 20, 130 112, 113, 114, 128, 137, 138, 139
22, 23, 29, 32, 47, 64, 140, 141, 162, 166, law court 65, 69 mihrab 46, 65, 83
168, 169, 173, 175, 176, 179, 182 Lawrence, A.W. 130 mind 14
identification of place by being 177 layering geometry 143 mind–Nature dialectic 91
igloo 191, 200 leaning house, Bomarzo Gardens, Italy Minolta Seminar Building, Kobe, Japan
imagination 17, 166 151 (Tadao Ando) 146
Imam Mosque, Isfahan, Iran 46, 47 learning architecture 4, 10, 12 Miralles, Enric 60
‘Imponderabilia’ (Abramovic) 184 Le Corbusier 2, 28, 47, 54, 58, 86, 105, misericord 68
in-between 20, 51, 103 111, 113, 114 Möbius House, Amsterdam (van Berkel, UN
ingle-nook 67 Leonardo da Vinci 129 Studio) 156
initiation 200, 201 le Pautre, Antoine 108, 152 Möbius strip 156
innate architect 4, 6, 10 Le Thoronet monastery, France 105 modifying geometry 110
inner sanctum 83 Lewerentz, Sigurd 46, 47, 60, 62, 159 modular blocks 70
‘In Real Life’ (Eliasson) 74 Libeskind, Daniel 156 monasteries of Meteora, Greece 198
inside and outside 20, 29, 31, 34, 47, 48, ‘Library of Babel’ (Borges) 98 monastery 105
49, 51, 83, 102, 103, 113, 171, 179, 188 light 66 Mongyo-tei, Kyoto 126
Inspector Morse (Dexter) 14 Lincoln Cathedral 106 ‘Monk by the Sea’ (Friedrich) 177
Instagram 27 Lincoln Memorial, Washington DC (Bacon) ‘Moonlight’ piano sonata (Beethoven) 223
installations 221 63 moral authority 96
intellectual structure 202 line in the sand 179 Morris, William 50, 51
Iron Age house 185 line of passage 30, 41, 162 Morse, Edward S. 91
Islamic house 52 line of sight 29, 30, 37, 40, 41, 45, 49, 59, mortuary temples, Egypt 45
Isola S. Giulio, Lake Orta, Italy 22 66, 162 mosque 31, 58, 65, 83, 133, 182, 183
isolation 20 lintel 76, 84 ‘mother of all the arts’ 218
Italian Gardens of the Renaissance (Shep- ‘Little Dancer Aged Fourteen’ (Degas) 7, Mothers’ (Hubertus) House, Amsterdam
herd and Jellicoe) 208 35 (van Eyck) 109
iwan 46, 50 Llainfadyn, Wales 26, 48 Motor City, Spain (MVRDV) 151
lobby 48 Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus 14
Japanese architecture 46 loggia 40 mud house, Kerala 106, 191
Japanese house 91, 123 Long, Richard 178 muezzin 176
Japanese joinery 75 Loos, Adolf 23 multi-room buildings 100
Japanese tea garden 216 Lorenz, Konrad 171 Museum of Literature, Himeji, Japan (Tadao
Japanese tea-house 63, 140 lost-cost house, India (Correa) 99 Ando) 145
Jarlshof, Shetland 84 Louisiana Art Museum, Denmark (Wohlert Museum of Modern Art, New York 32
Jarmund/Vigsnæs Architects 110 and Bo) 199 music 11, 14, 115, 128, 130, 136, 142
Jeeves 14 Loyn, Chris 105 Muthesius, Herman 213
Jellicoe, Geoffrey 208 MVRDV architects 151, 156, 159
Johnson House, Sea Ranch CA (Turnbull) Mackintosh, Charles Rennie 142 ‘My Bed’ (Emin) 222
143 Maes Howe, Orkney 91 Mycenae, Greece 52
Jones, S.R. and Smith, J.T. 208 Magnolia tree 222 My Name is Red (Pamuk) 206
Joyce, James 219 Maison à Bordeaux (Koolhaas) 114
Judge’s Lodgings, Presteigne, Wales 216 Malta temples 134 Naqsh-e Jahan, Isfahan, Iran 46
Malton, James 26 narrative 103, 141, 174, 219
Ka’ba, Mecca 56 Mamisi Temple, Egypt 52 National Architecture Museum, Oslo (Fehn)
Kafka, Franz 219 manikin 16, 18, 20, 59 139, 147
Kahn, Louis 92, 128 Mann, Thomas 168 Native American sweat lodge 200
Kamo no Chōmei 219 marbles 21 natural growth 153
Kelmscott Manor, Cotswolds 50 marker 18, 180, 182, 183, 186 natural room 5
Kent, William 133 market place 21, 184 Nature 14, 17, 161
Kerala restaurant 69 Márquez, Gabriel García 219 nave 83
Kerr, Robert 140 Martin Residence, Buffalo NY (Wright) 141 Necromanteion, Greece 133

228
Neihardt, John 211 planty crubs, Shetland 200 St Peter’s, Rome 22, 34, 35, 36, 47, 83
Neues Museum, Berlin (Chipperfield) 150 platform 52, 81, 113, 172, 186 St Petri Church, Klippan, Sweden
Newton Cenotaph (Boullée) 131, 132 Plato 124 (Lewerentz) 60, 159
Nick’s camp (Hemingway) 192 Platonic solids 131 Salisbury Cathedral, England 88
Nicolson, Harold 141 playing ‘house’ 212 sand castle 185
nijiriguchi 63 poetry of architecture 12, 14, 33, 40, 44, S. Maria Novella, Florence (Alberti) 134
Ninfa garden, Italy 150 62, 80, 89, 127, 143, 149, 150, 151, 152, Säynätsalo Town Hall, Finland (Aalto) 108
non-orthogonal geometry 157 159, 162, 186, 199, 215, 218, 219 scale 18, 62, 164
nonsense 44 point of reference 18 Scarpa, Carlo 150
Norman Shaw, Richard 213 political dimensions of architecture 20, 43 Scharoun, Hans 108
‘Nostalghia’ (Tarkovsky) 14 Polshek Partnership 131 Schinkel, Karl Friedrich 142
notebook 12 Pompeii 107 Schmarsow, August 106
porch 50, 80 Schminke House, Löbau, Germany
octagon 143 portal 215 (Scharoun) 108
Oedipus at Colonus (Sophocles) 168, 201 porte-corchère 52 Scotney Old Castle, Kent 150
Office, The (Gervais) 14 portico 132 Scottish Parliament, Edinburgh (Miralles)
orchestrating experience 215, 221 ‘Portrait of a Man’ known as ‘Il Condottiere’ 60
orientation 58, 80, 182, 183, 185, 195 (da Messina) 223 sculptural form 74, 96
origin of architecture 5 Pouillon, Fernand 105 seat 62
orkestra 21, 25, 132, 177 powers of architecture 4, 13, 17, 18, 19, ‘Second Meeting’ (Turrell) 223
orthogonal geometry 160 20, 29, 32, 38, 41, 43, 45, 47, 58, 153, section 202, 206
orthogonal planning 100, 103, 104, 107, 179, 182, 183 security 197
110, 113 presence of divinity 200 selling apples 6, 197
Osiris Hek-Djet Temple, Karnak 38 Preston Scott Cohen architects 160 Semper, Gottfried 5
Outhouse, Forest of Dean (Loyn) 105 Price, Cedric 161 senselessness 44
Prince of Wales 39 senses 176, 220
Palace for an Exhibition of Fine Arts prison cell 216 senses other than sight 176
(Bénard) 40 privacy 195 September 11 Memorial, New York 173
Palace of Minos, Knossos, Crete 104, 106, processional route 39 shadow 180
140 proportion 54, 126, 127, 128, 130 shed 75, 109
Palladio, Andrea 35, 101, 124, 125, 129, Propylaea, Acropolis, Athens 21, 57, 135 shell 154, 155, 161
133, 137, 143, 152 proscenium arch 65 shelter 25
Pamuk, Orhan 206 prospect and refuge 171 shepherd 176
Pantheon, Rome 34, 35, 48, 83, 131, 132 public and private 51 Shepherd, J.C. and Jellicoe, G 208
parallel walls 72, 73, 77, 80, 99, 102, 104, purification 200 Sherlock Holmes (Conan Doyle) 14
106, 110, 175, 195, 199 pyramid 24, 33, 89, 129, 162 Shetland 200
parametrics 54, 153, 157, 161 Shigeru Ban 123
Parisian café 171 qibla 83 Shinichi Ogawa 127
parquet 78 quadrature 80 Shinto gateway 188
Parthenon, Athens 21, 57, 130, 135, 149 quartering 30 shoji screen 91
parti 83, 115 shop-houses, Malaysia 99
pathway 37, 46, 115, 167, 173, 178, 184, rain shadow 178 sight 176
189 Ramat Gan apartments, Tel Aviv, Israel (Zvi Simonides of Ceos 173
Peraudin, Gilles 91 Hecker) 155 Sinan 92
perfection 116, 120, 123, 129, 135, 149, Raybould House, Connecticut (Kolatan & Sissinghurst garden, Kent (Nicolson and
152 MacDonald) 160 Sackville-West) 141
performance place 25, 32, 47, 181, 201 ‘Real’ Tennis 210 six-directions-and-centre 54, 79, 80, 148,
Perriand, Charlotte 63 real world 164, 165, 176, 194 162
person 16, 18, 19, 20, 23, 24, 31, 33, 34, rectangle 80, 98, 100, 101, 106, 107, 110, Siza, Alvaro 147
42, 55, 56, 59, 65, 83, 95, 109, 120, 157, 112, 117 Skara Brae, Orkney 45, 79, 83, 84, 85, 134
164, 179, 180, 183 refuge 26, 33 SketchUp 16
person as ingredient of architecture 11, 27, refuge and arena 171 sky 131
32, 33, 67, 165, 180, 183, 188, 189 ‘refuge tonneau’ (Perriand) 63 slates 77
perspective 39, 109 reinforced concrete 86, 111 slateworkers’ cottage, Wales 26, 52, 62
Petworth House, England 40 relating to the remote 30 sleeping place 26
Peyre, Marie-Joseph 134 Rennibister Earth House, Orkney 84 sleeping shelter, Tasmania (Taylor + Hinds)
Pharaoh 89, 129 responding to conditions 194, 198 50
phenomenology 104 Rhiwbina Garden Village, Cardiff 22 smell 176, 220
photography 27 Ring of Brodgar, Orkney 54 Soane, John 108
piano nobile 142 rites of passage 38, 187, 201 social circle 64, 72, 89, 185
Piazza S. Pietro, Rome (Bernini) 22, 36, 47 Rococo 94 social game 213
picturesque 150 Ronchamp chapel (Le Corbusier) 47, 58 social geometry 54, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69,
pit 172 roof 25, 72, 84 79, 80, 83, 102, 106, 115, 162, 184, 185
place and memory 173 row housing 99 social relationships 20
place descriptions in literature 219 rule systems 210, 212, 213 Solo House, Matarraña, Spain (von
place-making 5, 8, 12, 14, 16, 17, 18, 22, Ellrichshausen) 105
24, 32, 44, 54, 58, 64, 67, 69, 74, 96, 115, Sackville-West, Vita 141 solstice 34
148, 165, 166, 167, 171, 180, 186, 187, sacred precinct 32 sonata form 83
188, 189, 190, 193, 195, 197, 200, 216 sacred realm of drama 201 Song Benedikt chapel, Switzerland
place-making with people 183 Sagrada Familia, Barcelona, Spain (Gaudi) (Zumthor) 46, 47
place of transaction 66 153 songlines 174, 186
place recognition 168, 175 St Bega’s, Bassenthwaite 43 Sophocles 168
places open to the sky 102, 104 St James’s Palace, London 39 Sottsass, Ettore 188
plan and section 27, 77, 202, 208, 209 St Mark’s Basilica, Venice 159 spatial framework 30

INDEX 229
spatial grammar 5, 218 thickness 121, 122, 123, 126 Villa Mairea, Finland (Aalto) 114
spatial matrix 210 Thorvaldsen Museum, Copenhagen Villa Rotonda, Vicenza (Palladio) 34, 35,
spatial organisation 26, 27 (Bindesbøll) 39 101, 124, 129, 133, 143
spatial rules 25, 64, 69, 210, 211, 212, 216 threshold 6, 20, 21, 27, 29, 32, 34, 38, 39, Villa Savoye, Poissy (Le Corbusier) 113,
spatial syntax 32, 33, 42, 44, 79 41, 44, 47, 83, 176, 179, 182, 186, 188, 114
special bricks 158 210, 214 Villa Snellman, Sweden (Asplund) 109
sphere 131, 132, 162 throne 31, 32, 37, 39, 42, 43, 65, 189, 194 Vitra Fire Station, Switzerland (Zaha Hadid)
sphere of place 81 timber frame 86 148, 151
spiral 136, 153, 154, 156 time 14, 64, 80, 176, 180, 214 Vitruvian Man (Cesariano) 125
The Spiral, London (Libeskind) 156 tipi 79, 191 Vitruvian Man (Leonardo da Vinci) 129
spiral staircase 154 Tirana Rocks project, Albania (MVRDV) Vitruvius 5, 27, 124, 125, 162
square 54, 98, 116, 117, 118, 121, 122, 151 von Ellrichshausen, Pezo 105
124, 126, 127, 130, 143, 144, 145, 162 Tiryns Palace, Greece 107 von Trier, Lars 212
squaring the circle 80 tomb 8, 24, 89 Vorontsov’s Palace, Alupka, Crimea (Blore)
stage 63, 65, 81 Tomb of Agamemnon, Mycenae, Greece 50
standard dimensions 71, 78 52, 84 voussoirs 87
Standen summerhouse, West Sussex Topkapi Palace, Istanbul 43 VPRO HQ, Hilversum, Netherlands
(Webb) 209 topography 164, 199 (MVRDV) 159
static place 47, 139 Torus House, Columbia County NY (Pres-
stave church, Norway 88 ton Scott Cohen) 160 wall 4, 210
steel frame 75, 86 totem 187, 201 ‘Wapping Workhouse’ (Dickens) 219
steps 60, 62, 189 touch 220 Ward Willits House, Highland Park (Wright)
stone circle 21, 33, 54, 89, 182, 184, 215 tower building 17, 18 52
Stonehenge, England 34 town square 184 WATG (Wimberly, Allison, Tong & Goo)
storyboard 214 trabeated structure 86 161
street 102 transcending the geometry of making 94, wattle 90
street magician, Edinburgh 210 96 weather 164
structural geometry 88 transition 29, 38, 43, 47, 48, 51, 52, 188, Webb, Philip 209
studio, Helsinki (Aalto) 109 189 Welsh houses 73, 208
studio projects 218 tree 21, 181 Western Wall, Jerusalem 56
St Walston 168 tree place, Tenby, Wales 207 Williams, Kim 27, 225
substance without substance 17, 23 The Trial (Kafka) 219 Wilson and Gough Gallery, London
Süleymaniye Mosque, Istanbul (Sinan) 92 triclinium 66 (Chipperfield) 109
summerhouse, Muuratsalo, Finland (Aalto) troglodyte house 94 windbreak 195
101 troglodyte houses, Cappadocia, Turkey window 78
Sumo wrestling 25, 179 198 Wine Store, Vauvert, France (Peraudin) 91
sunrise 80, 83 Troy 195 Witchetty Grub tribe 186
sweat lodge 200 truth in architecture 89 Wittgenstein, Ludwig 126, 133
Sydney Cricket Ground 21 Tugendhat House, Brno (Mies) 88 Wodehouse, P.G. 14
symmetry 40, 80, 101, 108, 109, 113, 133, Turnbull, William 143 Wohlert,Vilhelm and Bo, Jørgen 199
135, 136, 140, 141, 143, 152, 162 Turner Contemporary Museum, Margate womb 8, 24, 109
syntax 30, 31, 32, 33 97 Woodland Chapel, Stockholm (Asplund)
Turrell, James 223 33, 44, 59, 89, 141, 162
table 25, 26, 30, 66 ‘twigloo’ 201 Wooster, Bertie 14
Tadao Ando 144, 145 twisted geometry 146 Wordsworth, William 2
Tarxien Temple, Malta 38, 47, 83 Ty Hedfan, Wales (Featherstone Young) Wotton, Henry 27, 225
tatami mat 91, 123, 126 110 Wright, Frank Lloyd 52, 141, 154
Taut, Bruno 25
Taylor + Hinds 50 Ulay 184 Xara Palace, Mdina, Malta 104
tea-house 63, 140, 216 Uluru (Ayer’s Rock) 174, 186
Teatro Olimpico, Vicenza (Palladio) 152 Ulysses (Joyce) 219 Yas Marina Hotel, Abu Dhabi (Asymtote
Telesterion, Eleusis, Greece 111 Umemiya House (Tadao Ando) 144 Architecture) 161
television 67 UN Studio 156 Yates, Frances A. 173
temenos 21, 51 urban circles of place 22 yurt 79, 191
temperature 220 Ushida Findlay 155
Tempietto, Rome (Bramante) 173 using things that are there 165 Zaha Hadid 148, 151
temple 31, 32, 33, 34, 52, 133, 182, 183 Zaleski, Szotynscy 94
Temple of Ammon, Karnak, Egypt 111 Valldemossa Monastery, Mallorca 40 Zeiss star projector 132
Temple of Aphaia, Aegina (Greece) 128 van Berkel, Ben 156 Zevi, Bruno 148
Temple of Rameses II, Abu Simbel 39, 83 Vanbrugh, Sir John 27, 125 Zumthor, Peter 46, 47, 106, 221
Temple of the Four Winds, Castle Howard, van der Laan, Dom Hans 92
Yorkshire (Vanbrugh) 125 van Eyck, Aldo 49, 51, 109, 225
Tarkovsky, Andrei 14 verandah 49
Temple Bar, Dublin (Group ‘91) 107 Verdens Ende, Norway (Fehn) 199
Tenby, Wales 207 Versailles, Palace of 36
tennis court 69, 210 Victoria and Albert Museum extension,
terebinth tree 168 London (Libeskind) 156
terraced houses 99, 102 Victorian English house 213
territory 179 Villa E.1027, France (Gray and Badovici)
tessellation 98 28
theatre 11, 25, 65, 176 Villa Flora, Muuratsalo, Finland (Aalto and
Thermal Baths, Vals, Switzerland (Zumthor) Aalto) 49
106 village green 22, 184

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