P378 .G1995 AN INQUIRY INTO SYMBOLS IN ARCHITECTURE THESIS J. BRIAN GARY / Vch ubrw MONTANA S~-\7£ 'JNIVERS4T3& BOZEMAi* STATEMENT OF PERMISSION TO COPY In presenting this thesis in partial fulfi l lment of the requirements for a Bachelor of Architecture degree at Montana State University, I agree that the Library shall make i t freely available for inspection. I further agree that permission for extensive copying of this thesis for schol­ arly purposes may be granted by my major professor, or, in his absence, by the Director of Libraries. It is understood that any copying or publication of this thesis for financial gain shall not be allowed without my written permission. Signature Date An Inquiry Into Symbols in Architecture by J. Brian Gary A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of BACHELOR OF ARCHITECTURE Acfvisor uesis Cummi ttee of Architecture Director. Sc MONTANA STATE UNIVERSITY Bozeman, Montana June 7, 1980 AN INQUIRY INTO SYMBOLS IN ARCHITECTURE A CITY/COUNTY GOVERNMENT BUILDING FOR THE CITY OF LIVINGSTON & PARK COUNTY A THESIS SUBMITTED FOR THE DEGREE of BACHELOR OF ARCHITECTURE MONTANA STATE UNIVERSITY BOZEMAN, MONTANA JUNE 7, 1980 TABLE OF CONTENTS THESIS STATEMENT INTRODUCTION ONE-SHAPES AND MEANING 1 TWO-CITIES 26 THREE-BUILDINGS 45 FOUR-SITE ANALYSIS 48 FIVE-PROGRAM 62 SIX-PROJECT 70 Footnotes Bibliography Acknowledgments 79 83 85 THESIS STATEMENT My intention in the design of a city/county government building is to understand design within an existing urban context as a syn­ thesis of pragramatic and symbolic architec­ tural issues, realized through the considera­ tion of urban form. THESIS TOPIC A City/County Government Building for The City of Livingston & Park County, Montana INTRODUCTION/OBJECTIVE A building, any artifact of man, is inherently imbued with meaning by the very fact of i ts existence as a product of a specif ic t ime, place, and people. As evidenced by the work of archeologists, anthropologists, and other observers of past and present societies, even the most prosaic of implements yields clues of the religious, social and intellectual mil ieu of their creators. Within this context then the complex constructions of modern architec­ ture offer a r ich opportunity to inquire into the substance of these ideas as well as the means of expression. Vitrvius1 dictum of "Firmness, Commodity, and Delight" remains a useful construct for discus­ sing some parameters of architecture. The sol­ ution of the problems of Firmness (does i t stand up and keep the rain out) and Commodity (does i t "function" for a specif ic task) does not auto­ matically insure the quality Delight has been provided for. Building has requirements beyond satisfying the merely functional. I t must as well address i tself to the aesthetic, intellec- tual and emotional needs of the people i t serves. An architecture that is occupied with the satisfaction of Firmness and Commodity with great rigor but pay­ ing only l ip service to Delight is not a down-to- earth or pragmatic architecture—it is an architec­ ture that has missed one-third the equation. Hence this study. An interest in these less tangible aspects of architecture leads me to a structure of ideas, rather than the traditional identification of a "problem" and then seeking a solution to that pro­ blem. To this end I have chosen to design a city/county government building for Livingston and Park County. This choice allows me to explore two personal interests: the nature of towns and cit ies, and the structure of the formal institutions of society. A brief outline of the process follows. First is an exploration through the l iterature into the idea of meaning in archi­ tecture. What is the purpose of architecture as a symbolic medium? What are the mechanics of the game? This study entails exploration into the arcane world of semiotics, communication theory, symbolization, theory of expression, and perhaps the psychology of perception. I l l I approach this portion of the study, however, not as a scholar making original contributions to architectural theory, but purely for my own edification as a designer looking for a concep­ tual order and greater access to the tools of my trade. The task of the theorist is to inves­ tigate the nature of architecture as a medium of communication and expand upon the concep­ tual base. As a designer I seek to understand intellectually and intuitively architecture as a symbolic medium and to uti l ize that knowledge in the design of buildings. Therefore, I em­ bark on a tool hunting expedition through the vast l iterature of architectural theory, intent on constructing for myself an order, a frame­ work so that I may more intell igently, more consciously understand the design process as a manipulation of symbolic elements. I need some tools to assemble my bag of shapes. Now to draw that too tenuous analogy of lan­ guage to architecture, supposing that one has mastered the language of architecture, that the designer is in control of symbol and asso­ ciation, of connotation and denotation, of syntax and lexicon, then what? What i f this veri­ table e.e. cummings of the drafting board has nothing more elemental, more basic or profound to say than "See Jane run" or "The gray horse is in the field", albeit mustered up with great eloquence and grace? That dilema gives rise to parts two and three of this inquiry. Part two is an historical, conceptua1, and morp ological investigation into the basic physical mani­ festation of human social nature, the settlement, the town, the city, the urban situation. This search is both general and specific, attempting to identify elemental, archetypal forms and ideas as well as con­ cepts and information very specific to Livingston and the general geographic area. Part three consists of inquiry again, this time into a specific set of ideas and the attendant building type that has historically been the concrete symbol of the actuality and the idea of the city: the town hall. The grand purpose of this process then is to develop a set of concepts from parts two and three of this study; concepts relating to the nature of cities and institutions of the city. Well armed with these concepts of meaning and order from the study of cities and town halls, and firmly gripping my shiny new tools from part one, I intend to design a town hall that emobodies the concepts gained by util izing the methods of sym­ bol izati on. In short, I hope to assemble my bag of shapes using specific tools in order to as consciously as possible manipulate the ideas in a step toward meaningful architecture. To do this is will be necessary to make as many de­ sign decisions as possible, from site selection to details, within the structure of method and concepts identified. The amalgam of architectural theory assembled in part one is in no way intended to be a com­ plete or inclusive theory of symbol and meaning in architecture. It is assembled expressly for my own education and use as a designer, as a theoretical construct, a schema within which I can more consciuosly manipulate the elements of architecture in a search for more meaningful design and expression. ONE-SHAPES AND MEANING It is human nature to search for order, to look for recurrent patterns in the maze of sensory input, to construct a mental screen through which this mass of sensory input is fi ltered and ordered. This undertaking can be thought of as a corrollary to the unconscious mental process of ordering input into generalit ies. It is an attempt to construct a conscious ordering system to deal with the ideas of symbolism and meaning in architecture. With this same intention contemporary archi­ tectural theorists have turned to the study of semiotics, the theory of signs and sym­ bols and their function in languages. As such, architectural semiology draws heavily on analogies from linguistics, the branch of semiotics most thoroughly explored by philo­ sophers and theorists. This is reasonable simply because the theory is most developed, and the greatest body of l iterature exists in l inguistics, but i t does present some problems. A general tenant of philosophical discourse holds that the greater the dissimilarity between the ob­ jects of an analogy, the less valid is the conclu­ sion of the analogy. I think i t can be shown that a great enough dissimilarity exists between language as a l inguistic system and architecture as an expres­ sive system to cast some doubt on the validity of their conclusions, particularly the ones that draw very specific parallels between the structure of lan­ guage and the structure of architecture. The second problem arises from the overly exclusive approach of the semiologists. They seek to deny the validity of, or simply prefer to not deal with the aspects of archi­ tectural meaning that l ie outside the realm of analysis from a standpoint of semiotics. These reservations regarding the validity of semiology in architecture will be discussed at greater length later, but they do not obviate the usefulness of the study in developing an ordering system for exploring the nature of meaning in architecture as a designer. The following discussion of semiotics is derived from an amalgam of sources and is intended to lay the ground work for the later development of specific design tools. The study of semiotics in relation to architec­ ture is based on several premises that are not immediately apparent in our everyday approach to understanding architecture. Inherent in semiotics, the study of sign and symbol, is the idea that there is no absolute objective connec­ tion between the symbol and the meaning. There is a divergence between being and meaning."^ The fact that this is not an abstract theoretical point but an operative condition of our percep­ tion of architecture is demonstrated by J.P. Bonta in several examples. The first example cited is the dissociation of the meaning attached to a building wearing a rectilinear glass curtain wall and the reality of that building, The point made is that at mid-twentieth century, the rectilinear curtain wall, devoid of diagonal accent, carried by social convention an image of economy and S>EAGKAM PUILPIM&: WW Visn Jer fohe 2nd Philip John^n functionality. The convention of the functionality of glass walled recti l inear towers was so strong that even professional crit ics were bound by i t despite the o factual wrongness of the idea. This is i l lustrated by Nikolaus Pevsner in his crit icism of several build­ ings at the University of Sheffield, comparing them favorably to the Leicester University Engineering Building by Stir l ing & Gowan. "They are so much more neutral in expression, without therby in my opinion losing anything in aesthetic value. Their calm outl ines, their beautiful grouping, and their precise detail reveal the excellence of their designer just as unmistakably as Stir l ing and Gowan's violent self-expression, and university buildings should perhaps rather convey calm and precision than violence. One thing is in any case certain. University buildings should be designed with a view to the user rather than the architect. So much for the meaning of recti l inear curtain wall tower as functional, user-sensit ive design because of social convention. The actual user conditions as described by Geoffry Broadbent, architect, crit ic, and occupant of the above described functional build­ ing paint a different story. "I was suffering from thoroughly inade­ quate vertical circulation—there were two 40-seater lecture rooms in the roof served by one 10-person l i f t--from solar heat gain (97°F in my room one day with snow on the ground outside) glare, noise trans­ mission through f loors and partit ions, a wind vortex at the base which sometimes made i t impossible to enter the front door and so on."4 The opinion stated by Pevsner was that the building was functional, not that i f looked functional, but that i t was functional, which by Broadbent's reply was well refuted. The meaning of the buil idng--functional, eff icient, economical, doesn't coincide with the being of the building, inhospitable and inefficient. To add a new level of complexity to the equation, the meaning (functionality) for any given symbol (curtain wall tower) does not stay constant over t ime. By the mid-70's the same shape, curtain walled tower, had i ts socially conventional mean­ ing changed by 180°. "The al l glass skyscraper is a form that has, appropriately, been called into question of late for social and economic reasons: i t is certainly extravagant to build and maintain. But there remains powerful aesthetic potential in this form, as this building shows, and i f the typical cl ient cannot afford to develop this potential to the extent done here, that is all the more reason to be grateful that the Hancock Company chose to cast i tself in the role of Medice. This building...( is) not cheap, but is good (Goldberger, 1976)."5 I t is clear then that the meaning ascribed to a spe­ cif ic symbol or shape not only lack intrinsic or natu­ ral connection, but the meaning is not stable over t ime or probably space. Another concept germane to semiology is the idea that i t is not possible to design or build a build­ ing devoid of meaning or expression. Any construc­ t ion inherently is expressive of the mind set, of the t ime, or of the method by which i t was created. Jenks states "...we can take a sl ightly different point of view and say that the minute a new form is in­ vented i t wil l acquire, inevitably, a meaning. This semantization is inevitable; as soon as there is a society, every usage is converted into a sign of i tself; the use of a raincoat is to give protection from the rain, but this cannot be dissociated from the very signs of an atmospheric situation."6 History is replete with examples of architects attempting to design buildings that are devoid of symbolism, of meaning. This was the belief and ideal of the architects of the International Style. They attempted to create an architecture that was purely functional, and to that end i t was necessary to be nonexpressive and by exten­ sion more eff icient and economical. Despite this serious effort to design value-free, non- expressive buildings, the very shapes they made in this venture came to express and symbolize a specif ic set of att itudes. "Contemporaries who were not involved with the International Style saw i t as reflec- ing well-defined values, in spite of alle­ gations of value-free design, r ia l kiel - Jirmounsky, a professor of architecture at the University of Paris, referring to the works of Gropius, Meyer, Mies van der Rohe and their colleagues, wrote in 1930 that they were ' imposing, in spite of their primitive appearance, and symbolic of an extremely organized l i fe, standardized and disciplined up to the extreme that all individual character, thought, soul, or feel­ ing are lost.' This was not a lonely voice: opposition to the Modern Movement continually assaulted it on these grounds. Although mod­ ern architecture on one plane was seen as lack­ ing in soul or feeling, at another level it was said to symbolize a certain lifestyle. Meaning and expression were expelled through the front door, only to come back, surreptitiously, through the back door. Banham noted in 1960 that emotion played a much greater part than logic in the creation of the International Style: low-cost building was ap­ proached with sympathy and emotion, but it was not intrinsically a more economical style than any other. 'The modern architects' concern for economy and logic was aesthetic and symbolic in nature; their designs were not really techno­ logically advanced or socially committed, they only communicated or symbolized social and tech­ nological ideals. After 1960, it became increasingly clear that the alleged expressive neutrality of the Interna­ tional Style was only a myth. The architecture of modern masters was just as charged semantically as any other architecture had been. Their assault against expression was itself a cultural--and therefore expressive--phenomenon. We are then in a situation where meaning and being are not necessarily or naturally associated; a building expressing function or economy is not neces­ sarily functional or economical; a building intended to be expressively neutral expresses that intention. A building or any construction inherently carries symbolism and is meaning­ ful. The meaning is not intrinsic but imputed by social convention. The meaning of any sym­ bol is not stable over time or space. Yet despite the fact that the meaning is not natu­ ral or intrinsic to the symbol, there is obvi­ ously a connection of some kind, because com­ munication does occur and we frequently agree on a commonality of meaning of specific sym­ bols. The study of the nature and dynamics of the relation between symbol and meaning is the study of semiotics. Given the fact of the dissociation of form and meaning in architecture, it then becomes neces­ sary to consider architecture as a system of signs within the context of a specific society. The act of perception and interpretation of a symbol is dependent upon the existence of three conditions. There is in all cases a percept, g a concept and a representation. The essential form of the action consists of the interpreter perceiving through the use of his senses a symbol (representa­ tion) that through existing mental schemata (concept) is interpreted to refer to some object or idea (per- Q cept). Thus the development of the semiological triangle. THOUGHT --content concept signified SYMBOL form word signifier REFERENT percept denotatum thing (10) Important to remember in this study is that there is no natural or fixed relationship between any of the three points of the triangle, only correlations. The formation of those relationships is an enigmatic, 'which came first—the chicken or the egg' type sit­ uation. Which came first, language, thought, or real­ ity? Depending upon which philosophical, psychological or religious creed one subscribes to any one of the three points can be the determinate of the other two. The diagram though, only posites correlations, always two-way, never absolute or determinate. The determination of which system of thought is "true" and if meanings are extrinsic or intrinsic is far beyond the scope of this prob­ lem, so it will be sufficient here to make seve­ ral assumptions to reason from the particular to the general, to form schemata that act as perceptual sieves, to filter external stimuli into conceptual wholes. We expect recurrent patterns and adjust the schemata and filter our perceptions to create them. It is this mecha­ nism that allows us to form abstract concepts or preconceptions which in turn enable us to relate the particular (symbol) through the con­ cept (thought) to the percept (referent).11 The fact that the concepts (schema) are both personal and socially shared (the social con­ tract of the semiologists) allows dynamic com­ munication systems, both linguistic and expres­ sive to exist. With that rude approximation of the symbol interpre­ tation process it is now necessary to develop the terminology of semi otic analysis. Since J.P. Bonta does this so succinctly in Architecture and its Interpretation, I will simply lift whole cloth from his work and adopt portions of his terminology. "An indicator is a directly perceivable event by means of which it is possible to learn some­ thing about other events which are not perceiv­ able directly (Buyssens, 1943; Prieto, 1966). Faced with a queue of cars obstructing the road and with the siren of an approaching ambulance, drivers infer that there has been an accident. Their inference is strengthened when they see a notice left by the police at the roadside, warning that an accident has occurred. The queue of cars, the ambulance and the roadside notice are directly perceivable events for the drivers in the story; the accident is not. Through the former, the drivers can learn about the latter. Consequently, the queue, ambulance and notice are indicators, and the occurence of the acci­ dent is their meaning. Drivers are interpreters. Signals, according to Buyssens, are a special class of indicators that fulfill two conditions. First, they are deliberately produced for the purpose of communicating. Second, they are recog nized by the interpreter as such--as having been deliberately used to communicate. The pol­ ice notice at the roadside is, in the first place an indicator, like the queue and the ambulance. But unlike these indicators, the notice is also a signal, 1) because it was deliberately used by someone (the police) to communicate something (the occurence of the accident) to others (the drivers), and 2) because drivers realize, in seeing the notice, that the police intended to communicate something to them. Signals have form, meaning, and an interpreter, like any indicator. In addition, they also have an emitter. Every signal is an indicator, but not every indicator is a signal. Indicators which are not purposefully used to communicate-- like the obstruction in the road--will be called indexes. Thus there are, at this stage of our discussion, two types of in­ dicators; signals and indexes. Signals communicate; indexes indicate. They both express or mean something—each one in its peculiar manner. Signals communicate what Buyssens called states of mind (£tats de conscience) of the emitter, rather than matters of fact. The meaning of a signal is a cultural pro­ duct, and as such it enjoys a status of its own, independent of physical reality. Indexes on the other hand are supposed to originate directly from reality, as opposed to being produced by an emitter; thus they refer to reality in a more direct way than signals. But when an index is interpreted by a human being, his own human i ty - - i n o the r words , h i s pa s t expe r i ences , h i s be l i e f s , h i s p r econcep t ions - -w i l1 p revade h i s i n t e rp re t a t i on . On ly peop le who a r e f ami l ­ i a r w i th au tomob i l e t r a f f i c on h ighways w i l l be ab l e t o r ead i t i n t h i s way . The i n t e rp re t a ­ t i on o f i ndexes , l i ke the i n t e rp re t a t i on o f s i g ­ na l s , i s a cu l t u r a l ope ra t i on and a s such i t i s bound by a soc i a l ma t r ix o f po t en t i a l i t i e s and r e s t r i c t i ons . Rega rd l e s s o f whe the r t hey a r e s igna l s o r i ndexes , t he mean ing o f i nd i ca to r s a lways pe r t a in s t o t he doma in o f cu l t u r e . In t en t iona l i ndexes a r e i nd i ca to r s t ha t f u l f i l l t he f i r s t s t i pu l a t i on o f t he de f in i t i on o f s i g ­ na l s , bu t no t t he s econd . In o the r words , t hey a r e i nd i ca to r s de l i be ra t l ey used t o communica t e , wh ich a r e no t r ecogn ized a s such by an i n t e rp re t e r Ind i ca to r s a l so ex i s t t ha t f u l f i l l t he second s t i p u l a t i on o f t he de f in i t i on o f s i gna l s , bu t no t t he f i r s t one . In o the r words , t he r e a r e i nd i ca to r s wh ich a r e be l i eved by t he i n t e rp re t e r t o have been de l i be ra t e ly p roduced by an emi t t e r t o communica t e , bu t wh ich i n f ac t were no t . I p ro ­ pose c a l l i ng them pseudo- s igna l s . I n t en t iona l i ndexes and p seudo- s igna l s s eem pa r t i ­ cu l a r ly r e l evan t t o des ign . They a r e t yp i ca l o f many de s ign s i t ua t i ons , and can t h row some l i gh t on t he ques t i on a s t o whe the r o r no t t he des igne r shou ld be cons ide red a s an emi t t e r , communica t i ng t o an aud ience ( and t he r e l a t ed ques t i on a s t o whe the r a r ch i t ec tu re i s a communica t i on sys t em t o wh ich t he pa rad igms o f communica t i on t heo ry a r e app l i cab l e ) . The answer wou ld be a f f i rma t ive on ly fo r a r ch i t ec tu ra l fo rms cons ide red a s s i gna l s To summar i ze : i nd i ca to r s can be c l a s s i ­ f i ed acco rd ing t o whe the r o r no t t hey have been i n t en t iona l ly p roduced t o com­ mun ica t e , and whe the r o r no t t hey a r e be ­ l i eved by t he i n t e rp re t e r t o have been p roduced f o r t ha t pu rpose . Fou r t ypes o f i nd i ca to r s t hus r e su l t : C la s s i f i ca t i on o f I nd i ca to r s . I n t e rp re t e r a s sumes I n t e rp re t e r does no t i n t en t iona l i t y j a s sume i n t en t iona l i t y (Communica t i on ) ( Ind i ca t i on ) The re i s an i n t en t iona l emi t t e r The re i s no i n t en t iona l emi t t e r SIGNAL PSEUDO-SIGNAL INTENTIONAL INDEX INDEX Ind i ca to r s do no t ope ra t e i n i so l a t i on , bu t a s e l emen t s w i th in a c e r t a in sys t em. Any sy s t em o f i nd i ca to r s i s an exp re s s ive sys t em, r ega rd l e s s o f whe the r i t i s com­ posed o f s i gna l s , p seudo- s igna l s , i ndexes , i n t en t iona l i ndexes , o r any combina t ion t he reo f . A l i ngu i s t i c sys t em o f l anguage i s an exp re s s ive sys t em so l e ly composed o f s i gna l s . "12 Befo re expand ing and c l a r i f i y ing t h i s beg in ­ n ing o f a vocabu la ry i t i s impor t an t t o no t e two points. Indicators, symbols, and indexes are not natural but are culturally interpreted. That is to say that the schematic codes are in the realm of culture and therefore are to a greater or lesser extent specif ic to individual societies. Jenks identif ies subgroups within the larger society and classif ies them not by socio-economic characteris­ t ics, but by shared preferences of meaning. These l ^ 'semiotic groups' are not independent of the larger culture but for certain symbols have a sl ightly different code. Within this definit ion then archi­ tects clearly form a semiotic group with their own preference of meanings. I t is this condition that gives rise to the popular question 'who do you de­ sign for, architects or the public?' Human societies share many non-scientif ic beliefs about reality, this is the realm of culture. These non-scientif ic beliefs pattern the way we eat, speak, gesture, organize social structures and institutions, and conduct our l ives. Cultural reality--meaning-- is often at some remove from physical reality, and factual evidence, historical truth or logic form few restrictions, in fact are mostly irrelevant to 14 a society's system of belief. From this comes the dynamic nature of communi­ cation systems, expression, and l inguistics. Any language is in a constant state of f lux. This is the key to semiotic analysis from the designer's standpoint because i t allows us to see how meaning is attached to forms, how old symbols lose their meaning and are resemanti- cized and the manner in which indexes are changed into signals. By realizing the mecha­ nics of this process and uti l izing i t in the design process the designer gains a powerful tool manipulating the symbolic aspects of the design. Before tracing the l i fe and death of a symbol i t is useful to add one more term to Bonta's signal and index. Jenks distinguishes index further to include "indexical signs" which directly indicate use l ike arrows or corri­ dors, and "iconic signs" where the form diagra- matically reflects the function, l ike a struc- 15 turally shaped bridge or a wedge shaped theatre. Charles Jenks traces the l i fe of a sign as "From metaphor to cl iche, from neologism through constant usage to architectural sign, this is the continual route travelled by new and success­ ful forms and techniques.""^ Forms in an express­ ive system are in a constant state of change, both in actual shape and in meaning. While a form is be­ ing refined or degraded over time the meaning attached to the form can be changing from index to signal to pseudo-signal. After repeated use, to the point of a t ired cliche a form can become obsolete, desemanti- cized, meaningless. When this happens the form is not dropped from use but is re-semantized and reused. When a new and unfamiliar form is introduced i t acts as an index (indexical sign or iconic sign), i t indi­ cates information specific to its use and purpose. But people invariably move from the particular to the general, from the specific to the collective. There­ fore any new and unusual form is matched metaphori­ cally to the familiar. It is this process that powers an index to a signal. A form is introduced, for example a rectil inear curtain wall tower. As an index (iconic sign) i t indicates the uniform rectil inear cubic spaces of an office building. But metaphorically the un­ familiar was seen as a shoe box, f i l ing cabinet, grid paper. But through the repeated use of a form the metaphor, which acted as the organizing struc­ ture for the unfamiliar input, falls away although its connotations may remain. What replaces the metaphor is the signal. Now the recti­ l inear curtain wall tower is seen and inter­ preted as the signal for office building. With repeated use and abuse of the form its meaning as a signal wil l drop away ( it will become de- semanticized) and i t will either be dropped or wil l be re-semanticized and used in a new way. Semiologists identify two forces in the evo­ lution of a language that are applicable to the expressive system of architecture. Bonta states "The conservative forces tend to impel indexes to intentional indexes, and from intentional indexes to signals. These forces lead to stabil ity in meaning and to decay in form. On the other hand, there are forces which strive for the emer­ gence of new meanings. When the new mean­ ing is a supplementary meaning originated in the context in which the signal is used, the process leads from a signal to an in­ dex. These forces can turn signals into other signals or can lead to the reading , 7 of signals as indexes (of other meanings)." The recent history of architecture i l lustrated this point quite well. Nineteenth century eclectic archi­ tecture enjoyed a very well defined doctrine of seman­ t ics—a clear language. A specif ic style was chosen for a part icular job, and since the revival styles were used in a coherent system the signs and mean­ ing of a building could be easily read. But the strongly defined language was a severe restrict ion on the expressive capacity of the building and as a re­ sult architects turned to a distort ing Mannerism or 18 simply a hollow syncretism. I t was against this system that the architects of the modern movement rebeled. They were opposed not only to what they saw as a worn out language being hollowly manipulated and unable to express the ideas they found signif icant, but as well against the idea 19 of l inguistic communication in architecture at al l . The modern movement instead proposed a system in which signals would not be used, only indexes which were naturally, not cultural ly determined. Modern cri t ics attr ibute the downfall of the modern move­ ment to these two fundamental mistakes: 1) the denial of the use of signals, which is not possible according to semio- logical theory, and 2) assuming that the relation of form to meaning (indexes) was natural and not conventional. To be useful to the designer we must not only be aware of the conventional meaning attached to architectural symbols and constructions, but be able to manipulate them as well. The manipulation of these symbols implies a con­ text, and to draw the analogy to language as a word derives its meaning from the context in which it appears, so does an architectural element (word) draw its meaning from the con­ text in which in appears. Jenks continues the language analogy and defines several ele­ ments of context drawn from language, apply­ ing them to architecture. "Yet there is a crucial difference be­ tween the 'words' of architecture and of speech. Consider the case of the column. A column on a building is one thing, the Nelson Column in Trafalgar Sqaure another, the column smoke-stack at Battersea Power Station in London a third, and Adolf Loos' entry for the Chicago Tribune Column a fourth. If the column is a 'word1, then the word has become a phrase, a sentence and finally a whole novel. Clearly architectural words are more elastic and polymorphous than those of spoken or written language, and are more based on their physical context and the code of the viewer for their specific sense. To determine what 'Nelson's Column' means you have to analyse the social - physical context, ('Trafalgar Square as a centre for political rallies'), the semantic overtones of Nelson, ('naval victories,' 'historical fig­ ure' etc.), the syntactic markers, ('standing alone', 'surrounded by open space and fountains'), and the historical connotations of column, ('use on temples', 'Three Orders', 'phallic symbol' etc.). Such an analysis is beyond the scope of this book, but an initial attempt has been made for analysing the column in general, which shows how fruitful this can be. We can make a componen- tial analysis of architectural elements and find out which are, for any culture, distinctive units." We now have "words" consisting of signs (signals, iconic and indexical indicators) that exist within a syntax (the manner and rules in which the words go together) and semantics (essentially our dictionary of conven­ tion). To understand the ideas of syntax and semantics is important in the manipulation and interpretation of uuuua*# architecture as a system of symbolic meanings. The combination of syntax and semantics comprise context, the frame of reference. Syntax, the formal relations and orderly system of arrange­ ment that is employed in a language can be mani­ pulated by strictly adhering to or manipulat­ ing the conventional rules. This is a power­ ful tool as can be seen by the manipulation of syntax in other expressive systems, paint­ ing and poetry in particular. An example of this would be a classical portico used within the conventional syntax as a symbol with charac­ teristics connotative and denotative (symbolic signs and indexical signs) meaning. But i f the same portico is juxtaposed in a bizarre or unconventional manner with other elements the specific meanings of the portico is altered, exaggerated or decreased. This is the realm of semantics, the relation of signs and what they refer to. A basic rule of semantics is that the relations between elements is more significant to the meaning expressed than is the inherent meaning of the specific elements. CAlCfATIp &RCh: THE EKBCHTHEI0N; Athene From this understanding of context as comprised of context and semantics comes a useful tool for the designer. This is, simply, the element of surprise. "...we can show the amount of meaning con­ veyed by a message is proportional to the unexpectancy of its occurrence in a context. Or to put it differently, the more a message is expected the less its information: 'cliches, for example, are less illuminating than great poems1."24 This point is illustrated diagramatically by George Baird.25 information flow increasing expectancy field of meaning message "code" increasing surpri se Thus the portico in its usual context conveys a clear message but the amount of information is small while the portico in bizarre juxta­ position carries a large meaning load but the message verges on the edge of incomprehensi­ bility. Some useful tools are now mine to utilize in design: Signals (symbolic signs) and indexes (iconic and indexical), conventional signs with meaning informed through memory and cul­ ture and employed through associations and metaphor, gain eloquence from syntax and seman tics. Studying the literature of semiotics in archi­ tectural theory one gains an impression of com pleteness. It appears that the theory is in­ clusive, the whole story, an elegant theory. Certainly some theorists insist that this is the case. While allowing that the appli­ cation of semiotics to architecture is a young field in need of much work, they protest that the theory is inclusive, covers all the bases, and scoff at those so foolish as to doubt. But doubt does arise. Some of the problems are fairly straightforward. The theory in a large part rests on an analogy to language and a paradigm of communi­ cation that is, to say the least, stretched. A lan­ guage consists only of signals, abstract symbols, while an expressive system l ike architecture consists of both signals and indexes, and Bonta further complicates i t by adding pseudo-signals and intentional indexes. This casts doubt upon the language analogy because of the added complexity of multiple variables in the com­ munication paradigm. The paradigm is essentially that of communication in spoken or written language. The emitter (designer) encodes a meaning in a building and the receiver (public, user, or crit ic) decodes the message. Obviously this process is much more complex in visual design as compared to language because of the variety of carriers of meaning. Language has only signals; architecture uti l izes signals, indexes and variations on these. In addition architecture has a lexicon that is more complexly encoded, more f lexible and less time stable, and less generally agreed upon than language. The result of this is a great number of stumbling blocks between emitter and receiver and the chance of the meaning (message) being transmitted successfully is greatly reduced. Despite these reservations regarding the valid­ ity of architectural semiotics, I think the theory is reasonably sound. Some of the problems of the stumbling blocks of communication can be overcome by a redundancy and exaggeration of intended meaning. In addition the designer must be cognizant of the fact that the intended interpreters are very semi otic group speci­ f ic or culture specific and are probably not stable over time. To bring the intuitive to a conscious level, to increase our choice of means is the goal of semiology. To that end I think i t is a valid area of study. Sturdy and true as the tools gained from semio­ tics might be thought, i t does not give us the whole range of concepts needed--it is not an ex­ clusive theory. Ihereis another level of meaning in architec­ ture that is not l iable to analysis from a semio- t ic view, with verbal tools. It is the "arche­ typal element" of Gaul die, the "generic experi­ ence" of Arhneim, the "primary sensation" of Corbusier, the "concretization of existential space" of Norberg-Shulz. This communication is on a more basic, more profound level than the communication the semiologists deal with. "The building which, long after the fashionable idioms of its time have degenerated into cliches, sti l l contributes some memorable quality to human l i fe is the building which draws its communica­ tive force from the unchanging emotional associa­ tions of the archetypal elements in the architec­ tural language, those which are most deeply rooted in the common sensory experience of humanity." (Gauldie)26 Communication of this nature is that which can evoke profound emotion in the observers, not through associa­ tions or symbolism of abstract concepts held to be dear, but instead by an articulation of generic experi­ ence, concretization of an existential meaning common to all humanity. Semiologists unfortunately refer to this experience as mythic. With our tools of verbal abstraction we can only explore this experience by pok­ ing around the edges, by defining i t by what i t is not. It is after this meaning that observers and creators from Plato to Corbusier to Wright to Kahn to Arnheim have sought. "The more f irmly a traditional symbol attaches itself to an appropriate image, the more convincingly i t survives changes in philosophy and doctrine. The morning l ight fall ing through the choir windows onto the altar carries with strong immedi­ acy a sense of enlightenment and blessing. Instead of transmitting the specific mes­ sage of, say, Neoplatonist metaphysics, i t conveys a broader, more generic experi­ ence, of which the doctrine is but one application. Sensory symbolism reveals the general in the particular and thereby raises the latter to a higher level of relevance. These heightened expressive qualit ies may survive in a building and continue to create a powerful experi­ ence when the specific nuance of the build ers' message can be retrieved only by hist orical research. The cupola of a dome may no longer specifically signify a reli­ gious image of heaven: but as an over­ arching and surrounding hollow i t forever preserves a spontaneous affinity with the natural sky and shares some of i ts princi­ pal expressive connotations."2? (Arnheim) "The meaningful synthesis achieved in the Hagia Sophia was clearly recognized at the time. Thus i t is reported that Justinian said on the day of consecration: "Solomon, I have vanquished thee!" And the court poet, Paul the Silentiary, added: "When the f irst gleam of l ight rosy--armed driving away the dark shadows, leapt from arch to arch, then all the princes and people with one voice hymned their songs of prayer and praise; it seemed to them as if the mighty arches were set in heaven. And above all rises into the immeasurable air the great helmet, which, bending over like the radiant heavens, embraces the church The golden stream of glittery rays pours down and strikes the eyes of men, so they can scarcely bear to look Thus through the spaces of the great church come rays of light, expelling clouds of care, filling the mind with promise, showing the way to the living God Whoever sets foot within this sacred place would live forever, and his eyes well with tears of joy.""28 (Norberg-Shulz) There is a distinction between the kind of experience described above and the experience described by the semiologists. The distinction is subtle, and perhaps one of degree rather than kind, but it is real and use­ ful. It is an attempt to distinguish between the basic elements of human experience and the more culture spe­ cific, era specific experiences, and the manner in which these differing experiences are realized in architecture. The distinction can be approached as deriving on one hand from existential meaning and on the other from cultural imperative. This distinction can be seen in the symbolism of a medieval cathedral. HAfiA $OTV!A: CtMttnb^uy\e "'to Guilielnus Durandess the cruciform church represents the Cross, and the weathercock on the spire the preacher who rouses the sleeping from the night of sin. The mortar, he says, consists of l ine, i.e. love, sand, i .e. earthly toil which love has taken upon itself, and water, uniting heavenly love and our earthly world.' Similiarly, Otto von Simson suggests that the Abbot Suger may have selected twelve columns each for the ambulatory and the choir of St. Denis because spiritually upon the founda­ tion of Apostles and Prophets, Jesus Christ being the keystone that joins one wall to the other ."29 In that sense the culturally and conventionally determined symbols can be explored, but there is another aspect of the Gothic that can be understood from a view of human perception and experience. The pervasive verticality and l ightness of a Gothic cathedral is under­ standable in l ight of the human experience of vertical motion. "Geometrically there is no difference between going up and going down, but physically and perceptually the differ­ ence is fundamental. Anybody climbing a tree, a ladder, a staircase, feels he is striving to overcome a counterforce, which he locates in his own body as weight. Thus the gratif ication in climbing consists in the conquer­ ing of one's own inert heaviness for the purpose of attaining a high goal--an experience inevitably endowed with symbolic connotations. Climbing is a heroic l iberating act; and height spontane­ ously symbolizes things of high value, be i t the value of worldly power or of spirituality. To r ise in an elevator, balloon, or airplane is to experience being l iberated from weight, sublimated, invested with superhuman abil i t ies. In addition, to rise from the earth is to approach the realm of l ight and overview. Therefore the negative overcoming of weight is at the same t ime the posit ive achievement of enlightenment and an unobstructed outlook. Digging below the sur­ face, on the other hand, means becoming involved with matter rather than relinquishing i t ; i t means proceeding from the everyday surface existence at "zero level," where matter abounds but leaves open spaces in between, to the compactness of the earth, through which al l l i fe rests and from which i t sprouts. Digging creates an entrance to the realm of darkness, and therefore i t stands symboli cally for deepening, i .e., for exploring beyond the superficial. Whereas r ising is the means of becoming enlightened, digging makes the l ight shine in darkness."30 I t is from this same att itude that we design and inter­ pret buildings from an anthropomorphic view and ascribe human emotions and shapes to inanimate objects. I t is a concretization of essential human experience. Arnheim states "Successful architecture, therefore, rarely l imits symbolism to arbitrary convention, but rather seeks to ally i t with features of more basic, spon­ taneous expression."31 Christian Norberg-Shulz basic thesis in Mean­ ing in Western Architecture revolves around this point. Repeatedly he makes the point that architecture is the concretization, symbolization of existential meanings. "The purpose was to make visable the spatial structure which gave Egyptian man his sense of existential identity and security Thus Egypt's simple geo­ graphic structure provided a basis for symbolizing basic existential meanings. In the physical environment these were concretized as axially organized and orthogonally structured enclosures, which were disposed in accordance with the great longitudinal space of the Nile valley."32 The purpose of his section of the discussion is to not only form the conceptual basis for another design tool, but also to open up an additional avenue of intention in design. Each of the tools or methods of symbolization identified is limited by its nature to a specific range of inten­ tions or ideas that can be expressed through its use. This is true of the generic or archetypal as well as the conventional symbols, signal and index. The arche­ typal symbols are also the most difficult to manipulate, but the most rewarding and significant should the de­ signer be successful. This is the order that Louis Kahn searched for, the relation of man to the earth that Frank Lloyd Wright expressed. The purpose was to bring order to relations between man and his envi- 33 ronment, and to make him aware of existential meanings. Norberg-Shulz maintains that the method of arriving at these concepts is by historical study of 1nondescrip- tive symbolism1. This symbolism is the concretizing of three categories of character--the natural, human, 34 ' and spiritual. The shapes we have to concretize these ideas are the archetypal architectural expres­ sions, the three orthogonal axes, closure and openness, inside and outside, light and proportion, geometry, texture and color. The purpose is to concretize exis­ tential meaning. "All genuine metaphors derive from expressive shapes and actions in the physical world. We speak of "high" hopes and "deep" thoughts, and it is only by analogy to such elemen­ tary qualities of the perceivable world that we can understand and describe non- physical properties. A work of architec­ ture, as a whole and in its parts, acts as a symbolic statement, which conveys, through our senses, humanly relevant qualities and situations."35 What then has the intrepid traveller gained from this journey through architectural theory? Sev­ eral significant tools perhaps, in addition to a conceptual order in which to use them as well as a number of new realizations about the nature of architecture. I now have a conceptual order for the use of symbols to deal with meaning in architecture. The tools to be used within this order are: signal, index and archetype. The tools are summarized in the chart at right to put them in a relationship to one another on scales of intent and response. GENERIC/NON-CULTURAL/EMOTIONAL SIGNAL „ 0lic Sign nn?tative 2ciational 4 INDEX Iconic Sign/Indexical Sign Denotative Particular ARCHETYPE Non-Descriptive Sign Expressive Generic CULTURE SPECIFIC/INTELLECTUAL K . ' «M - it.-*,.1' r rtn-vH. «l I, fW >••«. . i Ifr ' .-I* ff> MAKA0IN >TS'it.g MU-PN« : <•- r- - " r. 11 J5r 1 Any architectural element, alone and in context can carry meaning at any of the three levels roughly mapped out. An element probably is charged with meaning simultaneously at all three levels, but in differing proportions. A signal will have elements of index and archetypal meaning while a shape identified as an archtype will carry a load of index and signal meaning. It is the designer's task to understand the nature of these symbols through the study of history, theory, and societies and to use them in design both consciously and intuitively, intellectually and emotionally. This tool gathering was not intended as constructing a form­ ula or process, but simply as an aid to increase the area of conscious choice. Design will always remain to a significant degree intuitive and irrational. It is in this ligh't that the designer can connect the knowledge of the intellect to the will of the spirit to make and understand architecture. "Architecture is a concrete phenomenon. It comprises landscapes and settlements, buildings and characterizing articulation. Therefore it is a living reality. Since remote times architecture has helped man in making his existence meaningful, With the aid of architecture he has gained a foothold in space and time. Architecture is therefore concerned with something more than practical needs and economy. It is concerned with existential meanings. Existential meanings are derived from natural, human and spirtual phenomena, and are experienced as order and character. Architecture translates these meanings into spatial forms. Spatial forms in architecture are neither Euclidean nor Einsteinian. In architecture spatial form means place, path, and domain, that is, the concrete structure of man's environment. Therefore architecture cannot be satisfactorily described by means of geometrical or semiological concepts. Architecture ought to be understood in terms of meani'ngful (symbolic) forms. As such it is part of the history of existential meanings Today man feels an urgent need for a reconquest of architecture as a concrete phenomenon."3" (Christian Norberg-Shulz) /TTTinni v "Y annrr r. yiiil 1..J ; i. iL 11U1 > u uyru •.T7 if un £1 i ^^ • ! l.il! /{ o i^ inrz'SCKuty AV" & 3 ^ a & • e n £ fu w sins nfz 11 an/3 nmz n ni ( zrzza&zi tsizuiuiszi Tl'C f*AN M • Rtrft'. *V.\70-4 TWO -CITIES fjS=£ gg** ^7^-fw \^V*v i its frte.nr, A-x C+rtjr, &£. * f H i.UlililJ % n-TTi ramfi' a v i \\* surrounding countryside. The city was the excep tion, a specific place to itself, within nature. In contrast, the Roman sought to control and conquer nature and each city was seen as a micro cosm. The Greek interpreted the natural charac­ ter of the place while the Roman introduced a different, dominant order.42 The Romans mastery of nature was evidenced by their great engineering feats of the road network and the aqueducts, both necessary to supply the imperial cities. In the dominant system of Roman roads the nodes became impor­ tant and were marked by gates and arches, and the cities and settlements were defined by the primary "cardo" running north-south and rep­ resenting the axis of the world, and the second­ ary decumanus representing the course of the sun east to west. The axiated city then rep­ resented the conquest of nature and the world by the Roman Empire, and became a microcosm 43 of a basic cosmic order. Additionally the agora of the Greeks became the fora of the Romans. While the market, AfiCH OF 6E"TIMIU5 SEVBRJ5 : Rmus A.R social and business function remain mostly the same, the civic space for the exercise of Greek democracy became the imperial space for the display of power and spectacle. While the formal spatial concepts remained primarilythe same, the shape and function of the space changed greatly. Following the decline of the Roman Empire in the west in the fifth century, urban development was in abey­ ance for several hundred years. During this time various barbaric peoples coursed across Europe's land and sea routes and put an effective end to com­ merce, and therefore urbanism. This was a time of subsistence agricultural ism of peasants under the protection of a feudal lord's castle, in which they sought refuge in periods of danger. Several devel­ opments led to the resurgence of urbanism in the late ninth century. In the eighth and ninth centuries the Saracen's gained control of the Mediteranean and the Norsemen struck deep into Europe. The effect of this was to put an effective end to trade and subject the peasants to a profound insecurity. It became obvious that the effectiveness of the feudal lord's war band was insufficient to protect the people from the barbarians, and the feudal lord was often as rapacious as the invaders. This gave rise to the medieval walled city as a method of self-protection. Because of the state of military science at the time, a for­ tified city was nearly impregnable. Now not only could the commoner protect himself from the ravages of invaders, but he gained a greater in­ dependence from the feudal lord. Living in a walled city was an immensely attractive alter­ native to living in the open country, even within short distance of a castle. It is the idea of self protection in a forti­ fied city, coupled with an increasing poli­ tical stability in the tenth century that gave rise to the shapes of the medieval cities as well as its social structure. The restructuring of the environment by the construction of a walled enclosure made pro­ tection from outside raids and impositions a permanent and regular feature. In the sec­ urity of the walls craftsmen, peasants, and fisherman came together for a weekly market and wrested privileges and rights from the local lords, who often strongly opposed urbanization. It was in these cities that political and economic inde­ pendence was won from the feudal lord. The new found political and economic freedom gave rise to a more efficient ordering of economic l ife. The cities had legal as well as military security, and gained the right to hold a regular market, coin money and establish weights and measures. It had in fact nearly all the attributes of a sovereign 44 state. This freedom from external domination gave the citizens of the city an economic and personal mobility essential to the rise of a merchant and trading class. The medieval city saw the development of a richer trade under an essentially capitalistic system, the formation of guilds as associations of merchants and craftsmen, and the beginning of a democratic form of government in which all the burghers shared in the responsibility for defense, police and main­ tenance duties of the town. > % . i v' PIAZZA P&U CAMP r r w r k . 6 t h e c e t i h a r j/f thi£ urvjin tyvrG. "Each generation must rework the defini­ tions of the old symbols which it inherits from the generation before; i t must reform­ ulate the old concepts in terms of its own age."54 The concepts of urban design gained from history of Europe cannot simply be l ifted whole to America and util ized. Instead they must be understood within the context of American history of urban- ism and settlement in general and in the parti­ cular, history of the city to be designed. The American history of urbanism prior to the industrial revolution is to a large degree a non-history. The first settlements on the Eastern Seaboard were essentially medieval communities both in shape and society, trans­ planted from Europe. With the exception of the major ports the communities did not grow rapidly with the increasing migration, but instead new communities were formed on unclaimed land. It was this pioneering spirit, coupled with the ideal of a rural agrarian democracy that was the ideal of the nation's founders, of Jeffersonian democracy. It was this anti-urban sentiment and the constant pioneering spirit, the push to open up more land, that gave American cities their characteristic shape, and characteristic problems. The most common and pervasive attribute of American cities is orthogonal planning. This was for the most part a matter of expediency. The push west for land was so strong and fast that the only manner that the problems of boundary and property definition could be dealt with was to establish a national policy. "One of the most controversial issues which had to be resolved in framing the Articles of Confederation was the question of the undeveloped western lands. Seven states were claiming west­ ern projections of their boundaries and only in 1802 did Congress gain full control of the situ­ ation. A national land policy was required and the Land Ordinance of 1785 represented the re­ sults of compromise between the Government's desire to raise public funds from the sale of land and mounting pressure from the countless thousands who wanted enough land, preferably as a grant, for a farm. The law required that the territory to be sold should be laid out in rectangular townships, 6 miles square. Each township was to be divided into 36 square sections of 1 square mile or 640 acres. Half the land was to be sold by townships, the other half by sections. This rectil inear survey basis obviously disregarded topography, with many anomalous results, but i t was easy to locate a pur­ chase in the wilderness and to avoid boundary disputes. The first seven ranges of townships were surveyed by 1786, immediately west of the Ohio River. Given the speed of western expansion, there was no alternative to general adoption of these regional grids- of-expediency, and their existence as prop­ erty boundaries reinforced the preference for gridiron urban structuring. Section boundaries proved natural rural road lines and villages either established themselves at junctions, or were laid out and promoted by property speculators.1,55 The other idea significant to the development of American towns was the independent, anti- urban spirit of the pioneer. "America was "the land of the free"--be- cause the land was free. The immigrant was free to do on and with his land what­ ever he pleased--to improve or destroy it, to buy and sell and mortgage it. This "fee simple" form of landed property has been enshrined in North American ideol­ ogy as a 'natural' right, as the basis of human freedom and dignity. Just as the spirit of the pioneer form has largely dominated the spirit of urban development, so has the form of rural land division generally determined the urban street pattern... The public contribution to city building was l imited almost exclusively to the maintenance of the street system and its gradual improvement by engineer­ ing services. What happened beyond the street line was for the owner to decide."56 Bacon states that each generation must rework the def­ initions of the old symbols which it inherits. This is why i t is difficult to transfer the meaning of a similar symbol from one age to the next. To the Greek, the orthogonal city was a symbol of democracy, to the Renaissance man i t was a symbol of an ordered cosmos, to the American town planner i t was an action of capitalistic expediency, functional ism, efficiency. The all pervasiveness of the grid created a semblance of planning and order that pre-empted any further controls, any civic pretensions. In any event any further control of land use or attempt at civic monu­ mental ity would have been opposed by the citizens, is stil l being opposed by the citizens, as an infringe­ ment of their rights as property owners.57 The fron­ tier towns lacked in a political unity or strength of traditions or a despotic control necessary to affect civic building programs. As a result the towns have been planned by the invisible hand of the market, with civic development following private development. The fact that any order of development exists at all is due to the natural concentration of commercial build­ ing at major intersections of trade routes. For­ tunately this result is not devoid of logic, and leads to rational concentration of commerce at the center of towns, surrounded by residences. The real loss in this process has been the abil­ ity of the city to function as a symbolic medium as well as a practical medium. Without a civic structure, in contrast to a functioning infra­ structure, the city as an artifact cannot express the community's identity or aspirations, or the society's structure of philosophy or intellect, or the people's cosmology. There is a lack of unique identity, of placeness, or of expression of the commonality that binds the citizens to­ gether. M • . i v PIAZZA peu CAMP0: 5I0NA The courthouse/town hall, as the legislative, judicial and administrative center of city and county government occupies an important posi­ tion in the social structure of the community. The building is emblematic of the ideal and process of democratic government, and as such must reflect (express) the ideals and enhance the functioning of the process. As the physical expression of the most immedi­ ate and local unit of government, the court­ house/town hall is the building most citizens will associate with government, and which will play part in forming the community's concept of the role and function of the law in society. In this light then, the expressive/symbolic facets of the building's design play an equal, i f not greater role in the success of the building than the provision of a functionally adequate planning scheme. Towards this end the early American examples of county and city government building were most commonly based on the design of a Roman or Greek temple. The intention of the builders was to express the classical ideals of democracy associated with Greece and Rome, and to empha­ size the democratization of the intellectual tradition and the continuity of classical democratic rules of law. The adoption of classical shapes for the local government build­ ings was important in order to establish a tradition, to express a continuity, as well as to symbolize the greatness to which the nation aspi red. Today the iconographic program and necessities are similar in many respects, but much different in equally important ones. The necessity of symbolizing the tradition and development of the democratic system of govern­ ment remains the same. The building must act as the formal expression of communal aspiration and reflect the institution of the law for which citizens bear respect. However, in America the democratic tradition is now long and well established and the designer needn't look exclusively to classical models to establish the institutions in a traditional reference. Classical motifs can be used to refer to the established tradition but are not the exclu­ sive iconographical source. In the past the classical shapes were also a symbol of the nation's aspirations of national greatness and power. These concerns are possibly less relevant today and it is possible for the building to respond to more local communal aspirations. The building must also reflect changes in society that have altered the programatic requirements. In the past the function of local government consisted primarily of deci­ sion making on local issues, law enforcement, and administration of justice. Contemporary government has been charged with providing an increasing array of services—economic, social, and physical to the community, and the bureaucratic organization required to administer these services grows increasingly large and visible. The courthouse/town hall building must express a democratic government that is visually and physically accessible, a judicial system that is dignified and open within the democratic tradition, and a government bureaucracy that is servant, not master, of the citizens. The building should be a formal expression of the community's highest ideals. FOUR-SITE ANALYSIS O r %••• §?l' : • o m . *' ' II-ii-i • •. C!V'C tWJA TT . . : 0> f p'f ni'i i — 1 u l) u ]•: d>iiJ! FIVE- PROGRAM City of Livingston A. Mayor's Office City Commissioner's Offices Conference Room Secretary/Recepti on Clerk of the City Commission B. City Manager Assistant City Manager Secretary/Reception Storage C. City Engineer/Inspector Building Inspector Offices Work Room City Engineer Offices Work Room Secretary/Recepti on Vaul t Storage Machi ne/Pri nt 240 250 200 300 1,140 sq. ft 150 120 200 100 570 sq. ft 240 250 240 450 200 350 100 100 1,930 sq. ft D. Finance Department Office/Department Head Work Space Counter Machine Room Vaul t Storage E. City/County Planning Offices (2) Work Space Secretary/Recepti on F. Police Judge Courtroom Clerks (2) Vaul t G. Central Storage SUB TOTAL 150 800 250 600 300 200 2,300 sq. ft. 300 500 200 1,000 sq. ft. 100 500 200 50 850 sq. ft. 1,000 1,000 sq. ft. 9,270 sq. ft. II. Park County Program A. County Commissioners 360 Secretary/Reception 200 Conference 200 760 sq. ft. B. County Clerk & Recorder 120 Work Space 1,200 Vault 1,000 Storage 100 Counter/Public 350 2,670 sq. ft. C. Treasurer 120 Work Space 500 Counter/Public 150 Machine Room 400 Vaul t 200 Storage 100 1,470 sq. ft. D. Assessor 120 Work Space 500 Counter/Public 200 Storage 100 920 sq. ft. E. Motor Vehicle Department Work Space 600 Vault 150 Storage 150 Counter/Public 200 F. County Auditor 1.100 sq. ft. Work Space 500 Machine 100 Storage 100 Counter/Public 150 850 sq. ft. G. Superintendent of Schools Offices 240 Secretary/Reception 150 Conference 150 540 sq. ft. H. Health & Sanitation Secretary/Reception 200 Sanitation Offices 240 Health Officer 120 Nurses 200 Laboratory 300 Recording Room 100 Storage 150 1,310 sq. ft. I. Welfare Department Offices Work Space Waiting/Reception J. Agriculture Extension Service Offices Secretary/Reception Work Room Storage K. Civil Defense Office Secretary/Recepti on Storage Emergency Operation Center/ Community Room L. Clerk of the District Court Work Space Counter/Public Vaul t Work & Conference 360 450 150 960 sq. ft. 240 150 150 100 640 sq. ft. 120 100 200 900 1,320 sq. ft. 800 200 800 300 2,100 sq. ft. M. Jus t i ce of Peace Offices 300 Court & Conference 350 Secretary/Reception/Waiting 200 850 sq. ft. N. Probation Office 150 Waiting 150 300 sq. ft. 0. County Attorney Secretary/Reception 250 Offices 400 Conference 300 Law Library 650 1,600 sq. ft. P. District Court Court Room 1,500 Jury Room 250 Small Conference Rooms (2) 200 Judge's Chambers 300 Secretary/Reception/Bail iff 250 Court Reporter 200 2,700 sq. ft. SUB TOTAL COUNTY 20,090 sq. ft. I I I . City & County Totals A. City & County Building approx. 20% circulation & service Building Total B. Parking 29,360 sq. f t 5,900 sq. f t 35,260 sq. f t 32 cars SIX- PROJECT \ { ' ,J»t."'-Va:i.,.y.' llur -^ t , V 151 r*j T > < I • • 0>1 First Floor Plan tl3' • ' i • T V T • i L Second Fkxv Plan Basement Plan CaUendar Street Elevation Entrance Ete*»on H B 0 0 B H E B H H B a ' S H H H H H B 8 H B a a h h h h h h h b h h a B } n n—n—ft—pQn—A—v n - Second Street Qevatcn • • • i la—i_i * Third Street Elevation Alley Elevaton FOOTNOTES 7 9 ^Juan P. Bonta, Architecture and its Interpretation (New York: Rizzoli International Publications, 1979), p. 14. 2 Bonta, p. 19. ^Bonta, p. 18. 4 Bonta, p. 18. 5Bonta, p. 19. ^Meaning In Architecture, ed. Charles Jenks and George Baird (New York: George Braziller, 1960), p. 11. ^Bonta, p. 21. o Meaning in Architecture, p. 15. ^Niels Luning Prak, The Language of Architecture (The Netherlands: Mouton & Company, 1968), p. 15. ^Meaning in Architecture, p. 15. ^Meaning in Architecture, p. 20. ^Bonta, p. 26. 1 o Charles Jenks, The Language of Post Modern Architecture (New York: Rizzoli International Publications, 1977), p. 55. ^Bonta, p. 21. 15Jenks, p. 55. 80 16Jenks, p. 40. ^Bonta, p. 29. 18Jenks, p. 69. 19Bonta, p. 31. ^Jenks, p. 52. 2^Jenks, p. 72. 24 Meaning in Architecture, p. 21. 25 Meaning in Architecture, p. 83. ^Bonta, p. 226. 27 Rudolf Arnheim, The Dynamics of Architectural Form (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1969), p. 208. 28 Christian Norberg-Shulz, Meaning in Western Architecture (New York: Praegar Publishers, 1969), p. 140. ?9 Arnheim, p. 207. ^Arnheim, p. 33. ^Arnheim, p. 207. 3^Norberg-Shulz, p. 12. ^Norberg-Shulz, p. 429. ^Norberg-Shulz, p. 432. ^Arnheim, p. 208. ^6Norberg-Shulz, p. 5. 37 Cities of Destiny, ed. Arnold Toynbee (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1967), p. 13. oo Cities of Destiny, p. 13. 39 Cities of Destiny, p. 15. ^Richard P. Dober, Environmental Design (New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold Company, 1969), p. ^Dober, p. 83. 42 Norberg-Shulz, p. 84. . 43 Norberg-Shulz, p. 88. 44 / v Lewis Mumford, The Culture of Cities (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1970), p. 28. 45 Mumford, p. 28. ^Norberg-Shulz, p. 185. ^Norberg-Shulz, p. 187. ^Norberg-Shulz, p. 187. Cities of Destiny, p. 13. ^Norberg-Shulz, p. 226. ^Norberg-Shulz, p. 228. 52 A.E.J. Morris, History of Urban Form (London: George Godwin Ltd., 1972), p. 106. ^Morris, p. 156. ^Edmund N. Bacon, Design of Cities (New York: The Viking Press, 1967), p. 21. 55Morris, p. 220. (TC Hans Blumenfield, Metropolis...and Beyond (New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 1979), p. 3. ^Morris, p. 241. ^Cities of Destiny, p. 28. 59 Cities of Destiny, p. 13. ^Cities of Destiny, p. 13. BIBLIOGRAPHY Aalto, Alvar. Sketches. Ed. Goran Schildt. Cambridge, Massachusetts: The M.I.T. Press, 1978. Arnheim, Rudolf. The Dynamics of Architectural Form. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1969. Bacon, Edmund N. Design of Cities. New York: The Viking Press, 1967. Blumenfield, Hans. Metropolis...and Beyond. Selected Essays by Hans Blumenfield. New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 1979. Bonta, Juan P. Architecture and its Interpretation. New York: Rizzoli International Publications, 1979. Ching, Francis D.K.. Architecture: Form-Space & Order. New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold Company, 1979. Cities of Destiny. Ed. Arnold Toynbee. New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1967. Cullen, Gordon. The Concise Townscape. New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold Company, 1961. Dober, Richard P.. Environmental Design. New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold Company, 1969. Gaul die, Sinclair. Architecture. The Appreciation of the Arts/1. London: Oxford University Press, 1969. Gutheim, Frederick. "A Livable Winter City." Architectural Record, Feb. 1979, p. 111. Historical Resources of Livingston. Prepared by Kommers McLaughlin & Leavengood—Architects, 1979. Introduction to Urban Planning. Ed. Anthony J. Cantanese and James C. Snyder. New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1979. Jenks, Charles. The Language of Post Modern Architecture. New York: Rizzoli International Publications, 1977. Jenks, Charles. Modern Movements in Architecture. Garden City, N.Y.: Anchor Press/Doubleday, 1973. Luning Prak, Niels L.. The Language of Architecture. The Netherlands: Mouton & Company, 1968. Lynch, Kevin. The Image of the City. Cambridge, Massachusetts: The M.I.T. Press, 1960. Meaning in Architecture. Ed. Charles Jenks and George Baird. New York: George Braziller, 1969. Morris, A.E.J.. History of Urban Form. London: George Godwin Ltd., 1972. Mumford, Lewis. The Culture of Cities. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1970. Norberg-Shulz, Christian. Existence, Space & Architecture. New York: Praegar Publishers, 1971. Norberg-Shulz, Christian. Intentions in Architecture. Cambridge, Massachusetts: The M.I.T. Press, 1965. \Norberg-Shulz, Christian. Meaning in Western Architecture. New York: Praegar Publishers, 1975. Reps, John W. Cities of the American West. A History of Frontier Urban Planning. Princeton University Press, 1979. Roma Interrotta. Ed. Haig Beck. 49, No. 3 - 4 (1979). Scully, Vincent. American Architecture and Urbanism. New York: Praegar Publishers, 1969. Stern, Robert A.M.. New Directions in American Architecture. New York: George Brazil ler, Inc., 1977. Tod, Ian and Michael Wheeler. Utopia. New York: Harmony Books, 1978. Ward-Perkins, J.B.. Cities of Ancient Greece and Italy: Planning and Classical Antiquity. New York: George Brazil ler, Inc., 1974. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 85 All text illustrations from Architecture: Form, Space & Order by Francis D.K. Ching. New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold Company, 1979. zzerfr- M?6- Gary, J. B. G199 An inquiry into symbols in architecture E •R&e a-p —ff- fEB23 I S S U E D T O - Jrr^r '^ 1 A Iff—0 t ^ JAIT 2 0CT' 6/99 .