This distinction is a great example of Christopher Alexander’s “selfconscious” vs. “unselfconscious” ways of building.
Unselfconscious buildings slowly evolve in response to challenges faced by the inhabitants, and thus are marked by an almost organic tendency to shape to the environment. Functions emerge as innovations to solve problems at the speed of societal evolution — the mud huts of 50,000 BCE looked remarkably similar to the huts of 25,000 BCE.
Selfconscious buildings have prior “intent”, requiring elaborate upfront planning to express the will of the (often singular) architect. The building isn’t just a solution to a set of problems — it’s a shape, a statement, something intended to be seen and considered, intended to evoke feelings, maybe even to make some people uncomfortable.
I don’t recall if Alexander says this explicitly, but I’ve always felt that selfconscious architecture is a form of conspicuous consumption by power elite. By wasting resources to communicate messages in stone and steel, a society is saying to rivals (and to itself) how much it matters. The intent of this message is the same whether it’s the Durham Cathedral or the Louvre Pyramid.
(Ironically, I’d also argue that most “modern buildings” now fall into the unselfconscious camp — cranking out block after block of orange aluminum clad five-over-ones is a well-established and reliable way of putting square meters on site. It’s just unfortunate that accidents of history and economics led to the dominance of this stark and antihuman aesthetic.)
I was just in Norfolk VA. and I saw a multi-block new development that somehow managed to be built with enough thought to look like it was plucked right out a very dense 1830 city. The feel was very much like center city Philadelphia.
I was really pleased because with it which definitely fits with one aspect of this article on classical architecture.
All the houses had small little nooks cranny yards and porches that were necessities in the 1830's and awesome luxuries in today's cities.
The development was very true to the original design but used modern materials to look old. I would be just as happy to have seen the exact neighborhood recreated in another material such as cast concrete. I bet it would have been just as exciting and cheaper to build.
Unselfconscious buildings slowly evolve in response to challenges faced by the inhabitants, and thus are marked by an almost organic tendency to shape to the environment. Functions emerge as innovations to solve problems at the speed of societal evolution — the mud huts of 50,000 BCE looked remarkably similar to the huts of 25,000 BCE.
Selfconscious buildings have prior “intent”, requiring elaborate upfront planning to express the will of the (often singular) architect. The building isn’t just a solution to a set of problems — it’s a shape, a statement, something intended to be seen and considered, intended to evoke feelings, maybe even to make some people uncomfortable.
I don’t recall if Alexander says this explicitly, but I’ve always felt that selfconscious architecture is a form of conspicuous consumption by power elite. By wasting resources to communicate messages in stone and steel, a society is saying to rivals (and to itself) how much it matters. The intent of this message is the same whether it’s the Durham Cathedral or the Louvre Pyramid.
(Ironically, I’d also argue that most “modern buildings” now fall into the unselfconscious camp — cranking out block after block of orange aluminum clad five-over-ones is a well-established and reliable way of putting square meters on site. It’s just unfortunate that accidents of history and economics led to the dominance of this stark and antihuman aesthetic.)