On Literality. Or, The Guise of the Seagram Faรงade. Maarten Lambrechts AA H&CT_2013-2014 Narratives of Modernity
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Detail from the horizontal section of the Seagram faรงade (1958), designed by Mies van der Rohe at Park Avenue 375, Manhattan, New York.
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A girder made out of bronze appears on the façade. Shaped as an Ibeam, but not exactly, it reveals in its detailing a radical scheme. We see a designed, almost hand crafted, specific representation of purely mechanically standardized construction. An exposed image of construction becoming decorum, blurring the distinction between signifier (I-beam) and signified (façade ornament). Looking up, what becomes apparent is a complete reversal of architectural language in the literal projection of a part, becoming the whole. The ground becomes figure, not only in theory but, more importantly, also literally in the act of building; the classic distinction between structure and infill is finally dissolved. There is no innocence anymore to be found in building, but then again, has the act of building ever been completely objective? The outcome of construction has always been a composition of some sort. And is the bronze girder really anything different from the Renaissance pilaster emulating the Roman column, imitating the Greek Orders, derived from a wooden beam? Yet, it is true that the I-beam, pushed toward the surface, presents an extreme within the ambiguity. In particular, in the presentation of technique and the technique of presentation, i.e. the presentation of what should not be presented. A chiasm which leads to a more abstract interpretation of the postmodern in architecture. Being that, it’s focused on the literality in which the whole process of reversals manifests itself. As a kind of architectural version of material formalism (Bois, 2008), this interpretation forces the design to shift between concept and detail without any dialectical mechanisms. For this reason, the detail, specifically the detail of the representation of construction, dominates the design, and it is because of this detail that there can be a critical insight in the manufacturing process which lies behind the externalized image of architecture. Literality, in general, is the attitude adopted to critically understand the ambiguity in architecture. However, it isn’t only the ambiguity inherent to the classic notion of the discipline, from interior to exterior, but also the ambiguity of the process in between, which now needs to be dissected and re-composed. Therefore, an important factor will be the facture: the displayed traces of the production process of the image. So, how does bronze, for example, affect the appearance of the girder? (It is, of course, not really the I-beam girder, but, the appearance of the girder as an I-beam shaped mullion.) Different from the standard rolled steel I-beam, the bronze version is extruded. As a result, the shape can be adjusted with the use of very precise detailing in order to perfect the ‘I’. Most noticeable,
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at least in the cross section drawing, is the 1 inch deep ‘lip’ added on the sides of the front 4½ inches wide flange, making the mullion look “suitably robust” from all points of view (Schulze & Windhorst, 2012: 336). In addition, the back flange is made considerably thicker, not only for more visual substance, but also for simultaneously allowing the cleanest joints: each extruded mullion has a pin at the end which invisibly joins with the next mullion. The thicker back flange, furthermore, makes it possible to smoothly integrate a system for hanging up the minimal window frames. Finally, the web is six inches deep, which in 1958 was the maximum depth when extruding an I-beam in bronze (Lambert, 2013: 6266). This brings us to the play of light, shadow and shade, which was apparently the first and foremost reason for deciding on the shape of the I-beam. Especially the differentiation between shadow and shade might explain why the mullions were not extruded in aluminum, as in 860-880 Lake Shore Drive (1951) or 900-910 Lake Shore Drive (1958) (Lambert, 2013: 62-63). It was most certainly known, from the early stages of the design process, that bronze would get a darker patina over time, which was fittingly named the old penny-look (Lambert, 2013: 65). This darker patina, consequently, activated an effect of gradation, from the color of the bronze to the shadow, with all the shades in between. The dark patina, furthermore, absorbs all light falling onto the bronze mullion, whereas the bronze colored glass behind it, is highly reflective. However, despite this whole dynamic play of effects, I would argue that the figure of the I-beam shaped mullion boldly stays the protagonist. It is the mullion around which the whole play revolves, the one constant in the ephemeral play of light and dark, reflection and absorption, and, ultimately, in the complete ambiguity of architecture itself. It is the mullion as a perfected reproduction of the I-beam which represents the idea of an original objective signifier in architecture, but at the same time presents this notion as a completely subjective signified. It is the mullion, as representation, but at the same time comfortably situated in the realm of the real, which shows us how the object and the subject are intrinsically linked together. However, when the neutral Manhattan flâneur passes the façade and its I-beam shaped mullion, he will most likely find himself in a state of complete indifference, and that is exactly how it should be, because, in this way, the mullion as ornament
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acts a perfect sign of our time. Even though the mullion is (only) the image of the Ibeam, i.e. not the ‘real’ thing, it seems, nevertheless, to be wholly accepted as such. For this reason, because it’s presented as an objective signifier, wrapped in an easy to-go package, it is an easy acceptance for the passerby and the moving mass in general. The confrontation between the passerby and the mullion therefore is, primarily, a superficial one, in which both the subject and the object relate to each other with a certain cool, no questions asked. The mass can keep moving and passing by building after building and if one would look up, then there is a certain comfort to be found in the seemingly straightforward appearance of the mullion. But why would we be looking up at an I-beam mullion presented on the surface? Or, why would anyone want to put it there? Does it really have a meaning, or is it open to many? From the moment we start looking longer and watching closer, when we deliberately start asking ourselves these questions, it becomes apparent how oversimplified and uncertain the first reading of the appearance of the mullion really is. Then, with a deeper reading of the mullion, behind the image of the I-beam shaped mullion, we find a critical comment in the design on the ambiguous, interdependent relation in architecture between construction and composition. This notion, moreover, reveals how the mullion takes position in the general discourse on the oscillating nature of modern architecture, and moreover, how this position was determined by the rise of mechanical standardization in early, first generation modernism.
Thus, the design of the I-beam shaped mullion could certainly be traced back to the context of that specific period, at the beginning of the 20th century, and specifically to Germany where an emblematic debate was held between the functionalists and formalists (Oechslin, 2001: 48). The seminal question being: ‘Is form an aim an sich?’. Should we treat form as a totality, as it is perceived according to Gestalt theory? Or, is form the result of a process with defined indicators, as stated by the functionalists? The meaning of classical architectural form had hitherto already been exhausted through its overabundance in the succession of the classical styles. The disappearance of classical ornament being a symptomatic example of this transition to modernism. So, while the two new styles were being established through the ongoing debate, the whole relation between function and form was thoroughly re-examined and found itself ultimately in a crisis (which it never seemed to have overcome). Already from the start, it was apparent
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that a functionalistic industrial architecture could never completely dismiss the complete form. The result of the process of production proved to be always having some kind of a form, and furthermore, an image through which that form is perceived. Henceforth, the critique of the formalists, coming out of the camp of the Gestalt-movement, seems understandable. If there really is no way to dismiss form, it seems more relevant to reinterpret the function of form, rather than the form of function. Then, in order to gain this understanding of form, it also seems that a certain inclination towards the metaphysical idea of form is required. Early Gestalt theorists therefore directed their thoughts mainly towards the field of psychology. However, despite opening up the field of architecture, this direction of thought also makes, at the same time, architecture stray from the rationality and economics which are inherent to the praxis. As opposed to the formalists and their interpretation of Gestalt theory, the functionalists tended to focus on the concrete production of architecture and towards a clearly defined purpose of space. The production process, therefore, was to be set up as a logical and evident system resulting in a logical and evident product/ building. The material and building technology applied in the process become an all-important factor, and as a result, the standardized construction element will play a crucial role in the image of functionalist architecture. Consequently, in one of the earliest icons of functionalism, the AEG Turbine Factory by Peter Behrens (1909), the girder makes its first appearance to the public. In the Turbine Factory, the structure of standardized steel girders is ex-pressed, literally, on the surface of the side façades. By wanting to share the admiration for the rationality of industrial skin and bone architecture, Behrens explicitly puts forward an image of functionalist architecture; the girder, as standardized element, becomes a sign of the functionalist architecture. A sign which perfectly fits the objective syntax needed for a clear architectural language. However, at the same time, the girder invades and re-invents the canon of ornament in architecture. This load baring construction element figures as a readymade, presenting itself on the façade. In this act of presentation, we can already recognize a shift from the signifier to becoming just another signified. Of course, in the context of functionalism, there was no intention of abandoning the ideology, no intention of manipulating the idea of rational production. In Behren’s Turbine Hall, the girder is pushed towards the surface, only for making a statement on the dominating role of construction,
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from interior to exterior. In this case, the girder does not yet surpass the plane of the façade.
Behren’s design of the girder in the façade therefore remains, to a certain level, indecisive. Although he acknowledged that the elevation of an industrial skin and bone architecture is, by definition, two-dimensional (Lambert, 2001, 18), there is clearly no intention of further exploring the significance of the 2D effect. In this case, the functionalist convictions prevail over the notion of Baukunst, i.e. architecture not as building but as an exercise on building. It should, however, be noted that at the same time in the arts very similar ideas were experimented with. Painters, for instance, like Paul Klee and Wassily Kandinsky were searching in their work for a defined language as well. An important contribution from their part was the adding of a natural dimension to the cerebral understanding of language. Therefore, the process becomes more than merely an assembly linelike practice. A “natural language” (Mertins, 2001, 598) implies giving in to the irrational, which may be unsurprising in painting but it is not that obvious for the average functionalist. However, by adding an extra ‘irrationality layer’ to the design, the design process becomes less axiomatic and much more an exercise in Baukunst. For this reason, it is worth noting how the focus on Gestalt can now shift to Gestaltung, meaning that the process is inherent to the form. In other words, the duality between function and form is resolved in the mediating, almost organic, process. It is in this process, in-between, that function and form, in their most extreme version, come together, and it is in this precise condition that both function and form are lighter in use, thus capable of being literally externalized in design. The I-beam shaped mullion, therefore, differs strongly from the girder, seeing that the mullion is the representation of the externalization of the process itself, whereas the girder only serves as a part of the externalization of the functionalist process. In other words, the I-beam shaped mullion deals with the literal act of reproduction; the girder deals with literal reproduction as such. Consequently, in presenting the literal act of reproduction as an image on the façade, the I-beam shaped mullion is capable of effectively representing the complete ambiguity of the process. It’s not literality on the level of the readymade (the girder in the façade), but literality on the level of the design process (the mullion on the
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façade), which enables the mullion to expose the ambiguity between construction and composition in the image of architecture. Therefore, it’s crucial to understand the production of the image of the I-beam, in extruded bronze, as well as the steel skin and bone construction of the building. This steel construction determined the composition of the façade directly, in that the structure had to be covered with concrete as a result of the fire safety regulation (Levine, 1998: 87) . Because of this adjustment, the clearest representation of structure can only take place at the surface of the façade. However, the façade is a curtain wall façade, which is by definition completely independent from the structure. Thus, there’s a possibility of designing a composition which is totally ‘free’, nevertheless, the ambiguity is kept by using the freedom of the curtain wall to design a perfected image of the clearest representation of structure, and by doing so, emphasizing the mediating ambiguity between invisible construction and visible composition.
This shows that, by willingly giving in to the conditions of production and construction, also a certain depth can be established in the façade. Not in “delimiting a body” (Behrens in: Oechslin, 2001: 32), as propagated by the functionalists, equating the structure and image of a building, but in a façade which is designed as a comment on these conditions. By using and manipulating the syntax of modernist architecture, the façade becomes, furthermore, a comment on modern architecture in general. Considering the status of the façade in modern architecture theory, it seems almost unthinkable not to make a reference to Colin Rowe’s and Robert Slutzky’s seminal essay “Transparency: Literal and Phenomenal” (Rowe & Sluzky, 1963: 45-54). In this essay, which was written at the same time when the I-beam shaped mullion was designed, the authors clearly favor phenomenal transparency, achieved by the organization of overlapping layers of form, over literal transparency which is defined by the transparency of the material itself. As a result, despite arguing for multiple interpretations of space, their academic (and didactic) approach towards analyzing the façade, reinstates an obsolete dualism, as if it had never left since the functionalism-formalism debate. The notion of phenomenal transparency, therefore, dominated considerably the further development of architecture (Oechslin in: Rowe & Slutzky, 1997: 16-17), dismissing literal transparency, and, in like manner, the phenomenal in the literal. (In Part II of the essay, published in 1971, Rowe and Slutzky admit that certain façades, perceived as literal transparency, can nevertheless be understood as
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phenomenal (Rowe & Slutzky, 1971: 291).) However, by only proposing a frontal approach of the plane, the essential fourth dimension of space-time is notably left out, which gives reason to re-evaluate the whole proposition of the theory of transparency in architecture (Mertins, 2011a: 82; Mertins, 2011b: 60).
For one thing, literal transparency, as it’s manifested in the glass curtain wall façade, has never been less ambiguous than its so-called phenomenal counterpart. Sigfried Giedion’s description in 1941 of the Bauhaus’s glass curtain wall (Giedion, 1967: 496-498), for example, uses almost exactly the same arguments as Rowe and Slutzky for indicating the ambiguity-quality of architecture. In contrast, of all buildings, the Bauhaus is considered by Rowe and Slutzky to be the epitome of unambiguous literal transparency (Rowe & Slutzky, 1963: 49). Then, what lies at the heart of these contradictory interpretations of the transparency of the glass curtain wall façade? I would argue that the main difference is to be found in the position of the subject in both analyses. Where Rowe and Slutzky do not deviate, at any point, from the imperative frontal approach of the subject in their analysis of phenomenal transparency, they seem, in general, less concerned with the required diagonal view for perceiving “the deep, naturalistic space” of literal transparency (Rowe & Slutzky, 1963: 48). However, this diagonal view could imply that the perception of the glass façade changes when shifting to a frontal approach, as result of the parallax effect (Allen, 2000: 75). This shift in the perception of the object in relation to its background, caused by the movement of the subject, makes us, when passing by the glass curtain wall façade (from diagonal to frontal), question any unequivocal relation between figure and ground, and in our case, the projection of the mullion presented against the curtain wall façade. And again, it’s through the literality of this effect that there appears a mediation, between the changing perception of the object and the actual movement of the subject, which leads to a clear ambiguity on all levels of the design. As a result, ambiguity in transparency is to be found in between figure and ground, through the image of the façade which is in a direct relation to the moving mass. This means that a distinction has to be made between the I-beam shaped mullion as figure, on the foreground, and the curtain wall as ground, on the background, and the façade as an image as a whole. The curtain wall, therefore, is part of the composition of an image and should be considered as a representation of the
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curtain wall, rather than the curtain wall as such. This is most obvious in the manipulation of the materiality of glass in the curtain wall; by applying a bronze colored and reflective coating, the ideological notion of transparency becomes inverted in the apparent mass of the façade. The expected deep, naturalistic space of literal transparency has been replaced by its two-dimensional equivalent, in the re-flection of light and movement, as a re-presentation of depth, and a reproduction of the ground. In that manner, the function of the cantilevered curtain wall is now revealed by the nature of the curtain, by covering what is behind all the re-’s. Moreover, the question could be posed if there can be, in any way, a better representation of deep, naturalistic space than in the truly superficial, affirming the nature of space as truly unfathomable (Lefebvre in: Hays, 1997: 287). Setting depth in the realm of space, we acknowledge that surface belongs to the realm of image, and therefore it makes sense that the ground, in this case, becomes an amplified image of ‘neutrality in the background’.
The construction of the background therefore needs to be detailed as carefully as the figure on the foreground. Moreover, it’s at the back of the background where the image of the façade is joined with the actual structure; the critical point between construction and composition where the ambiguity of architecture is originated. Not surprisingly, the façade is literally attached to the structure, however, these joints are solved in a light and minimal manner so that they are invisible from the outside. In between the façade and structure there is only air, i.e. the air conditioning, the essential feature for making the whole building possible, which is placed in such manner to make the transition between the floor and spandrels outside is as smooth as possible (Lambert, 2013: 59-61). (When going further into the building, it seems that such solutions grow in scale, from innovative engineering work on the stability of the structure (Lambert, 2103: 5759) to the addition of the ‘bustle’ behind the main building… however, I would argue that all these efforts are directed towards the ‘front’, establishing, again, this state of ambivalence between construction and composition.) On the outside, the modulation of the façade puts emphasis on the rhythm of the actual structure by establishing a (nearly regular) a-b-b-b-a rhythm within the six mullions between each bay (Schulze, 1999: 3). This rhythm is accentuated by the subtly framed bronze spandrels and, in addition, makes it possible for the glass panels to have a 5:8 ratio, a derivate of the golden section (Tigerman, 1986: 121), which is,
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of all proportions, surely the one most frequently used throughout the history of Western architecture as the representation of the ideal module. The result of this all, seeing that in the design the artificiality now becomes the authentic, is a constant play of perception with the image of skin and bone architecture, and specifically the image of the glass curtain wall façade. When Tafuri described the “silence” of this sort of design as “apodictic” and even “asemantic”, he was clearly, and only, describing the image of this design (Tafuri, 1976: 148). It is, however, true that, when we consider the significance of the curtain wall as mass medium (Martin, 2001: 72), the intention of the architect should lie in amplifying that silence. Hence, it’s significance lies in the precise manipulation of the literal act of reproduction and the representation of its product, meaning the in-between of signifier and signified, in such a way that representation shifts to presentation. I would argue that this entails the understanding of a third layer in the image of architecture, which is the image of the representation of the object, with architecture being the object and the image being a whole. Seeing that not only the figure, but also the ground is an image, we can now un-relate signifier and signified, and when driven to extremes, this does not only generates an amplified silence in the image, but also a state of ambiguity for those who look closer. In as much as the manipulation enforces the image, it simultaneously raises a critical position as well; in between the invisible ‘original’ object and its explicit representation, there is the ambiguity which stresses the inherent indeterminacy of the project rather than a controlled silence directed outward, fitting the original neo-capitalist Manhattan context.
So, what do we find when looking through the looking-glass? Or, when taking up the literal definition of transparency; what appears through the appearance of the transparent glass façade? I would say it is the image itself, nothing more or less. It is the reflection of an architecture, which is as ephemeral as the reflection we see in the reflecting glass (literally, and in that literality also figurally). Just as the light, the shadow, and the whole moving mass are flashes of the times in which we live, so is the image of the mass of architecture, the reflectionground, an ephemeral flash of the architecture we construct. Architecture as a scenography of architecture, and even though it is the image of a reproduction, there is nevertheless a certain kind of aura. It is what Samuel Weber would call
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the “mediaura�, in which the media itself become the aura of the image (Weber in: Martin, 2001: 74). Therefore, technique, as in to make something appear within what is present (Heidegger in: Engel, 2010: 63-64), determines the outcome, which, in this case, is ultimately embodied by the I-beam shaped mullion. Seeing that the column has a tradition of being a metaphor for architecture (which at the same time determined the whole construction), the projected I-beam shaped mullion becomes, through technique, a metaphor for objectivity. This, of course, is the greatest manipulation, inscribed within the paradox of object and subject. However, bringing these extremes together is not unproductive, on the contrary, it is here that we find a mediating ambiguity which is infinite, as opposed to the contradiction, or even the dialectics, between theory and practice. That is why in a theory of literality, where ultimately theory becomes practice and practice theory, there’s an inherent state of ambivalence which is unattainable for exclusively the object or the word.
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Reference list _Allen, S. (2000) Practice: Architecture, Technique and Representation G+B Arts International. _Bois, Y-A. (2008) ‘Encountering Newman’ In: The Object in Transition: A Cross Disciplinary Conference on the Preservation and Study of Modern and Contemporary Art, January 25-26, 2008, Los Angeles, USA. Available at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EPGLuOm5w8 (published 20 September 2012) _Engel, B. (2010) ‘Of Transparency’, In: De Sousa, E. & Wooller, K., eds., Propositions: Ideology in Transparency AA Phd Programme Publications, pp. 63-65. _Giedion, S. (1967) Space, Time and Architecture: The Growth of a New Tradition Oxford University Press. _Hays, K.M. (1997) ‘Abstraction’s Appearance (Seagram Building)’, In: Somol, R.E., ed., Autonomy and Ideology: Positioning an Avant-Garde in America The Monacelli Press, pp. 278-291. _Lambert, P. (2001) ‘Introduction’ In: Lambert, P., ed., Mies in America H N Abrams, pp.1721 _Lambert, P. (2013) Building Seagram Yale University Press. _Levine, N. (1998) ‘The Significance of Facts: Mies’s Collages up Close and Personal’ Assemblage 37, pp. 70-101. _Martin, R. (2001) ‘Atrocities. Or, Curtain Wall as Mass Medium’ Perspecta 32, pp. 66-75. _Mertins, D. (2001) ‘Living in a Jungle: Mies, Organic Architecture, and the Act of City Building’ In: Lambert, P., ed., Mies in America H N Abrams, pp. 590-641. _Mertins, D. (2011a) ‘Transparency: Autonomy and Relationality’, In: Steele, B., ed., Architecture Words 7 Modernity Unbound: Other Histories of Architectural Modernity AA Publications, pp. 70-87. _Mertins, D. (2011b) ‘Anything but Literal: Sigfried Giedion and the Reception of Cubism in Germany’, In: Steele, B., ed., Architecture Words 7 Modernity Unbound: Other Histories of Architectural Modernity AA Publications, pp. 24-69. _Oechslin, W. (2001) ‘”Not from an aestheticizing, but from a general cultural point of view” Mies’s Steady Resistance to Formalism and Determinism: A Plea for Value Criteria in Architecture’ In: Lambert, P., ed., Mies in America H N Abrams, pp. 22-89. _Rowe, C. & Slutzky, R. (1963) ‘Tansparency: Literal and Phenomena’ Perspecta 8, pp. 45-54. _Rowe, C. & Slutzky, R. (1971) ‘Tansparency: Literal and Phenomenal… Part II’ Perspecta 13/14, pp. 287-301. _Rowe, C. & Slutzky, R. (1997) Transparency Birkhäuser. _Schulze, F. (1999) ‘Introduction’ In: Stoller, E. The Seagram Building Princeton Architectural Press, pp. 1-14? _Schulze, F. & E. Windhorst (2012) Mies van der Rohe: A Critical Biography University of Chicago Press. _Tafuri, M. (1976) Architecture and Utopia: Design and Capitalism Development MIT Press. _Tigerman, S. (1986) ‘Mies van der Rohe: A Moral Modernist Model’ Perspecta 22, pp. 112-135. Drawing based on: Blaser, W. (1972) Mies van der Rohe Verlag für Architektur Artemis, pp. 142-143. Photos taken by: Stamps, L. (2010) Untitled New York, USA. - 13 -
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