Memory of stones: technology, materials and the weathering of buildings

Chorus discussants: Emily Alvarez, Madeleine Filloux, , Ariel Schecter, Hannah Sheldon-Dean, Bradley Hanson, Tim Simmonds

Posted at Mar 18/2009 05:11PM:
madeleine filloux: I thought the reading On Weathering was very compelling. Particularly, I'm interested in the challenge of predicting weathering and building/designing in order to both acknowledge and make use of weathering since, as Mustafavi and Leatherbarrow suggest, the final finishing of a building is through its interaction with the environment. I was also intrigued at the implications that this has that a more local architecture is more effective. How does this fit into the increasingly global consciousness of the 21st century? How can architects today address this problem? I found it particularly interesting that in an attempt to create an "honest" and "dependable" architecture, Corbusier and other modern architects actually created an architecture of dishonesty and facade where white masks the structural truths of a building. Also, it seems like there is some inherent value we tend to place on weathered things. The reading referenced this idea by referring to "rustic" architecture whose value lies in its design which looks weathered. It also harkens to Reigl's concept of what deserves to be called a monument. Maybe we revere and are obsessed by old buildings because of the analogy between the structure of a building as it passes through time and the human life. For both, the past is permanently imprinted on the present. When looking at the old, the ultimate subjectivity of both buildings and humans to their environment becomes apparent.

bradley As I begin to engage with the topic of weathering I am intrigued by some of the discourse that emerges. As we talk about architectural representation, cultural biographies of surfaces, and local technologies, it seems like we have entered into a dialogue over “authenticity.” I may be forgetting something, but I cannot recall this topic coming up in class thus far during the semester. Does weathering grant a certain memorial authenticity to a surface? How can we evaluate the authenticity of a surface or structure? On the other hand, how can a surface, or a material, or a technology be false, or inauthentic? The term façade, for instance, has become a synonym for a disguise, for something phony, for a pretension. What, though, does a façade mask? What qualities does a representational surface lack or hide that an ontological surface upholds? I may be simplifying, or confusing some of these issues, but I think that weathering may open a space for us to discuss honesty and falsity in relation to architecture, materiality, and, perhaps even more to the issue, memory.

Hannah: You both bring up some really interesting points, and the question of authenticity in particular is one that I think we can definitely get into in our discussion of weathering. I was especially struck by the part of the reading about the expressive value of rustication, in which an aspect of a building is designed to resist the environment’s impact on the building while simultaneously making its surfaces appear as though nature had finished them. I think that that process, among others, reveals a value that we place on the passage of time (like in Reigl) even as we attempt to counteract those of time’s effects that are inconvenient to us. It’s as though we tend to value the idea of time without embracing its realities.

I'd also like to talk about the authors’ assertion that nature has a “rightful claim” on all works of art. Is “death a birthright” for objects, symbols, and ideas just as it is for living creatures? To me this question also ties into the authors’ comparison of a building’s life to that of a human and the ways in which experiences and the passage of time build upon and mark a being so that every past stage remains in the present. With people, we talk negatively about things like baggage and scars, but we also value experience and the wisdom that time can bring. How could we apply this same thinking to architecture? What would that mean for construction processes? Mustafevi and Leatherbarrow say that “dirt is not necessarily impure,” and I think there is a complicated set of agreements and disagreements with that statement implicit in all of our thinking about weathering.

bradley It is interesting to me also how the authors encourage architects to anticipate and employ weathering as a valuable or positive element in design—as a part of an organic architecture. This consciousness of weathering seems to be a powerful phenomenon. Weathering is a natural process. It will happen whether one wants it to or not. What does it mean to harness this natural process? Does this in some way take it out of nature? Does there need to be some distinction made between, on the one hand, traditional knowledge of material properties and weathering, and, on the other, a self-conscious, almost aesthetic incorporation of weathering into building design and construction?

Posted at Mar 19/2009 01:29AM:
Timothy Simonds: The author notes Alberti's considerations for the places of stones in a facade, as having "expressive meanings associated with rustication." Alberti claimed that "large rough-hewn stones were thought to add dignity to a building...and that the hardest and most irrecualr stones should be placed at the bottom of the walls. This was given ethical application in his essay 'The Temple,' where the stones at the bottom of the temple's foundation became indignant at their 'unjust' treatment and 'lowly' position and decided to rise up and revolt against the stones unfairly placed 'above' them. The consequence of their 'foolish' revolution was the collapse and ruin of the entire temple" (57). When the author explains the effective use of Cor-Ten he describes a similar type of collapse. He explains that the cleaning of the intentionally weathered steal will promote corrosion (103). Although the stones of the temple may be considered to by formed by a divine hand or no hand at all and the steal has been intentionally treated, both materials can be personified as having a memory of being handled. It is because of the builders discrepency from what the materials "want to do" that the structures collapse. I find the Cor-Ten example especially interesting. As opposed to the Le Corbusier's 'white-washed' modernism here is an example where patina or dirt is not a fault but is promoted and if removed it will fault the structure.

Can we extend Mustafevi and Leatherbarrow's definition of an architectures passage of time to include not only "a building's inception, construction, and inhabitation," but also the possible iterations of re-inhabitation, annexation, preservation or renaming? Should a change of a building's inhabitants or interior function be a noted as weathering on the interior or exterior architecture? Should an annex or addition? I think it would be particularly interesting to discuss preservation and the renaming of architecture as a form of weathering. To what extent can a structure be weathered in these ways and still be considered the same architecture?

I would also like to consider weathering as bring an evolutionary quality to architecture. The authors question of the value of a weathered surface, "does it not show the rightful claim nature has on all works of art? Is it not a return of matter to its source... the actual assimilation of an art work 'back' into its location, the place 'from which' it was first taken. In this time after construction, buildings take on the qualities of the places wherein they are sited, their colors and surface textures being modiefied by and in turn modifying hos of the surrounding landscape"(68-71). I believe that what Mustafevi and Leatherbarrow say call the landscape should include the bodies that interact and handle the space. In the weathered indents of a wooden step is the mark of a ritualized motion. It is a romantic capture of the past, present in the material that has lasted and that which has worn away.

Posted at Mar 19/2009 12:19PM:
tess: One thing that wasn't mentioned in our discussion of gravestones and other sites where the process of weathering/decaying is both valued and accepted was that of structures that are ephemeral by design. I'm not speaking of iconoclasm or purposeful erasure (as in the case of the monument against facism), but more along the lines of prayer flags. Because they (or the ideas behind them) are meant to leave their physical structure and rise up into the atmosphere or the spiritual realm, their stripping and subsequent physical erasure makes them last forever. Just an extra thought.

This is what i had posted on the wrong page (the Chorus one) Emily : I thought this was a really interesting reading coming from several different directions. I like the idea of building anticipating weatherization, whether it be to protect the structure from nature or to grow more beautiful as it is changed by the elements. The idea of LeCorbusier's universal architecture surpassing class and place is a very important ideology of the time. One that many architects and others disagree with. I think the simple fact that these buildings were not able to weather well proves that they were just a utilitarian dream and not something that would withstand the test of time. LeCorbusier changing his style also attests to this. I really liked Loos' idea that the interiors of buildings should be as individual as the owners. That they will continue to grow as the family does, adding stains, photos, and other personal touches throughout the lifetime of the house, or the time that one family occupies the space. I agree much more with this view as I think the home is a special place for each occupant. A sterile and impersonal dwelling does not seem like some place I would like to spend the majority of my time. I liked his quote that read "such a person would not have to be an architect to specify the right fittings." One thing that this made me think of was the idea of sustainability. This is an increasingly popular architectural trend and something that I hope to be involved with in the future. One of this main principles of ecological design is that solutions come from place. The most efficient, pleasant, and long-lasting buildings are those that are specifically fitted to their site. The architect must take into consideration the angles of the sun, the chemistry of the soil, and the directions of the wind. The idea then that one building can be built everywhere strongly opposes this. The way a building is rated to be "green" is by the United States' Green Building Councils LEED (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design) point system. Basically, it is a checklist of all the ways your building is better for the occupants and the environment. Points are given for such things as locally sourced materials, building over a brownfield instead of a greenfield, and other site specific details. It is interesting how this could tie into the idea of weathering happening most gracefully when a building is best suited for its environment. It almost seems like such site specific structures are all around superior.

Posted at Apr 01/2009 11:48AM:
madeleine filloux: The discussion in class before break had me thinking about restoration of buildings and the responsibilities restorers have. We talked about the idea of preserving the outside of the building (where the greatest interaction between the environment and the building occur) while the inside is often completely gutted. This idea brought to mind two examples from Brown's campus: the newly restored Pembroke Hall and Smitty-B which was converted from Pembroke's gym to a building for classes and seminars. Both Pembroke Hall and Smitty-B have maintained the same facades (just cleaned up) but the inside of Smitty-B was restored in such a way that, in my opinion, maintained a high level of structural authenticity. The basketball court remains and the new layout calls attention to the fact that the building has been converted. Pembroke Hall, on the other hand, has been completely gutted. The inside is white-washed and modern, except for one room (I think on the 2nd floor) that is preserved exactly as it had been with wood paneling and a fireplace. In a way, these two buildings were restored with some idea of authenticity, but they approached it very differently. I was also thinking about the new trend towards deconstruction and demolition instead of preservation and restoration. It seems that in an increasingly globalized world, the sheer number of objects is increasing exponentially (with advances in technology and transportation) so that there is no need to restore or preserve since there will be more than enough new things to come replace the old. How can architecture address the increased push towards newness and buildings that aren't built to last? Maybe one answer would be building to promote and adapt to change. In other words, buildings that can be added onto or subtracted from to answer unforeseen future needs. If a single building can evolve as the environment changes (indeed as humans change to our environment) maybe then it can have permanence while also allowing for reiterations of use and inhabitation.

Joukowsky Institute for Archaeology