From Yoko Ono’s performance art to Maurizio Cattelan’s dubious metacritique – fruits taped to the wall might ring a bell for readers – the modern era has witnessed a nuanced discourse on what does or does not count as “art”. Although the visibility and participation afforded by the digital age is unprecedented, this friction is not unique to our times. In fact, it is simply the latest of attempts to define what has eluded definition since times immemorial, and thus the latest in a long string of refinements. While the vast majority argue what imparts value to a piece of art, schools of thought such as postmodernism go on to question the definition of the ‘artist’ itself.
Further refining the meaning of ‘art’, there are also the contextual differences one can establish by defining what a practice is if it is not art. Aristotle, as one might observe seems mostly the case, had an answer to this question – the distinction between the “arts” and the “sciences”. There has been a rich history of thinkers building upon these classifications, until one arrives at what we now refer to as epistemological domains. According to the latter, there are several metrics by which a practice can be classified as an art, a science or a profession (or a combination of the three).
Now that the fact that ‘art’ itself is a term that defies an easy definition has been established, the central question addressed here can also be approached; is outstanding architecture more of a form of art or a finely-rendered service?
A good service is one that centers the user’s experience. Its ultimate goal is to meet a set of prerequisites determined to provide maximum utility to a client. In the field of architecture, Louis Sullivan’s famous axiom, “form follows function”, seems to embody the nature of what it means to provide a good service. Serving as an intuitive touchstone, the functionality of a building appears to be the primary derivative around which the other design elements are conceptualized. The form itself, in a way, falls secondary to the function.
When thinking about architecture as a service, readers may be inclined, instinctually, to visualize something akin to urban sprawl, with uniform facades and the standardized specifications that are so central to Le Corbusier’s vision of Modernist architecture. A vision that is reserved for any random minute out of any random day. Architecture here is a current running through the veins of the spaces that are in everyday use, meant to ease but not to be pondered.
Architecture as an art, however, seems almost to exist only in those spaces where one steps out of the ordinary state of affairs; perhaps the extraordinarily-preserved Baroque one encounters during a vacation in an exotic destination. As an art, the discipline of architecture would center the architect themselves, manifesting their vision. The functionality is simply something to be facilitated. The form leaps to the front of the beholder’s perception, demanding attention and provoking thought. One might assume this kind of architecture is something meant to be exhibited, rather than to be utilized.
Two questions can be distilled out of these equations, then:
Why can a service-oriented structure not be designed to appeal and provoke thought?
Or, alternatively, why can art not be built around functionality?
Everyday spaces that constitute the vast majority of everyday lives need not always be blank facades that blend into one another or into the background. The objective-oriented rush of modern life can stand to slow down, perhaps to take a moment to absorb the brightly-painted avians that frame an innocuous window on the street, or the juxtaposition of a bright red storefront against the neutral backdrop of the unassuming city block. Elements that serve no explicit purpose save for commanding the attention of the passive passerby can still serve the purpose of breaking the dreary monotony that renders each of us a background character in our own lives. In no case does this take away from the pragmatism of the structure’s intended purpose.
Conversely, the explicitly artistic nature of a structure does not sanctify it beyond being assigned a function. The psychological divide that exists in one’s mind separating things that are meant to be utilized and things that are meant to be appreciated is the only block. Whether one is walking up the imperceptibly gentle slope of the Guggenheim’s galleries, or simply walking along the engineering marvel that is the Gateshead Millennium Bridge, it does not take away from the sheer artistic essence both structures exude.
Counterintuitive as the notion may seem, a great service can still be rendered on a well-garnished plate, and a work of art can still facilitate the most mundane of functions – perhaps just doubling as a walkway, or as a conveniently-established entrance. Good architecture satisfies the intended function while also preserving the dignity of its form. A good architect centers their work itself, preserving form while facilitating function.
To conclude, Syed Affan, one of our own architects, has an answer to the age-old question we opened with, upon being asked the aforementioned he retorted;
“Art is one of the greatest services one can render to humanity. Architecture, then, is at its best when it is both"
And thus we can say that good architecture, by extension, is both a finely-tuned service and an artform where its architect is not merely a problem solver nor solely an artist, but a mediator between the eternal 'Yin & Yang' of 'Form & Function.'
Comments