How to Build With a Pen: A Justification

Introduction

As my first order of business, I will justify the necessity of writing and, by extension, this journal to architecture. Each subdiscipline of writing—academic, creative, and technical—has its crucial place in the theory and design of buildings. Note: I avoid the subject of technical writing in this essay, because its utility to architecture is self-evident.

Just as the architect builds by the careful arrangement of bricks, so too does the author write by the careful arrangement of words.

The foremost principle of exceptional art is its ability to tell a story. In particular, the story of its time, place, people, and culture. Contemporary architects have neglected this. Instead, they favor the proliferation of arbitrary theories crafted and sponsored by pretentious intellectuals. Deconstructivism, to give one such example. Architecture without narrative is not art. It is abstract nonsense. The architect who understands creative writing (even if he himself does not produce any) cements this narrative quality into his buildings.

Narration is not the only aspect that matters. A theory of architecture grounded in philosophy is essential. Contemporary theorists lack this foundation due to their disregard of academic writing. Note: By academic, I do not simply mean writing that comes out of academia, but any writing that aims to educate on architecture or philosophy, such as this very journal. Consequently, they are unable to supply a philosophically rigorous defense for irrational theories like Deconstructivism. It is imperative that the architect understands academic writing so that he makes sense of his own philosophy, as well as the works of the philosophers who came before him. In doing so, he devises theories that are metaphysically and ethically sound.


Creative Writing

Creative writing teaches storytelling, and all its components, in the most direct manner possible.

A story has a plot, setting, characters, and purpose. The same holds true for architecture.

Each building has a plan (or plot) that dictates its construction. An effective novel has a well-paced, resourceful plot where every event and character choice progresses the narrative. An effective building has a productive, economical plan where every action progresses the construction of the building. Delays in plot lead to hemorrhaging of readers. Delays in construction lead to hemorrhaging of money.

A building's construction is also influenced by its location (or setting) and the people (or characters) that it is built by and for. Take the Parthenon as an example. The ancient Greeks were gifted in geometry. We know this, in part, because of the emphasis they put on proportionality and symmetry in their designs. The former is evident in the Parthenon's Doric order; specifically in the dimensions of the entablature with respect to the columns. The latter is evident in the perfect arrangement of said columns with respect to the temple as a whole.

The Parthenon's location, atop the Acropolis of Athens, was chosen to venerate the goddess of wisdom, Athena, for whom the temple is dedicated. The Greeks valued divinity and religion, and so positioned the temple at the pinnacle of their capital city. The inhabitants below were forced to look up at the temple, just as mankind looks up to the heavens. Even from a great distance, the shear logic of its craftsmanship was immediately recognizable.

The setting and character decisions, in accordance with the plot, execute the purpose of the story. In the case of the Parthenon, their purpose was clear: to employ human reasoning in the furtherance of divine worship. Present day buildings lack purpose that is meaningful and virtuous. Often times, they are based on fulfilling logistical needs or economic desires, rather than artistic ones (and even when they are artistic, they fall short because of a lack of narrative). The Greeks did not have to build a temple atop Athens.

Designing the purpose of a building from a purely pragmatic perspective leaves it culturally bankrupt.

Now that I have explained the importance of the narrative, I will move on to academic writing and its use in architectural theory.


Academic Writing

Academic writing makes legible the reasoning and ideas of philosophers.

Without a philosophical foundation, architecture is at best mechanistic, and at worst devoid of metaphysical, moral, and aesthetic significance. When there is no significance, there is no means with which to defend the existence of the design to begin with.

Even American architect Louis Sullivan, who famously opined, "Form follows function," justified his idea philosophically. He asserted that a building's aesthetic qualities should arise from its intended use, and that ornamentation should reflect that use, just as it is in Nature. Of course, Sullivan's maxim was hijacked and repurposed by modernists—such as Adolf Loos—to give credence towards their attitudes of pure functionalism.

Through academic writing, the architect connects philosophy to his buildings, thereby giving them significance. For instance, the usage of calligraphy and fractals rather than grotesques and mascarons, in Islamic ornamentation. By reading academic works in Islamic philosophy, the architect comprehends the metaphysical principles that motivate this decision. Namely, the Islamic conception of monotheism, tawhid, and its polytheistic antithesis, shirk. Depictions of living beings, especially in sculpture and architecture, is shirk (idolatry by attribution of divine qualities to something other than God). It is forbidden. Calligraphy and fractal geometry avoid shirk while exemplifying tawhid (the singular infinity of God). Thus, Islamic buildings are given significance.

Without reading scholarly interpretations of Islamic law, the architect fails to provide a nuanced explanation for this facet of Islamic architecture.

Theories of architecture must have a philosophical foundation lest they lack significance. A building without significance is much like a person without purpose. A nihilist. Academic writing provides the means to craft and defend coherent theories on such a basis.


The Pen as a Building Instrument

Writing is not supplemental to architecture. It is required. As ancient Roman architect Vitruvius states:

"In all matters, but particularly in architecture, there are these two points: — the thing signified, and that which gives it its significance."

The architect physically plans his buildings by drafting (the thing signified). The architect metaphysically plans his buildings by writing (that which gives significance). Therefore, he must be skilled in how to build with a hammer, as well as How to Build With a Pen.