Post by estiel on Jul 28, 2009 21:23:45 GMT -5
Haven't had a chance to read anything yet, but I really love the art. It may be the best ever.
Later (5 August):
Matthew Alderman's "Paper Architecture" piece made me think (again) about architecture and architects. They are unique among creators in that they are both artist and scientist. Architecture itself is a sculpting of space. I think the problem is--well, first we have to assert that there is a problem, and problably most people would agree that there is--modern architecture (generically) is ugly. Period. So, why is it ugly?
The scientist is not functioning much better than the artist. Many modern buildings are shabbily designed for safety, among other structural problems. But it's the artist who's in serious trouble. The glass cigar boxes are notorious, and the attempt to "prettify" them with doo-dad pinnacle designs do not help. Worse than that is the attempt at re-editions: craftsman style houses that have been stripped down and re-issued in mixed media (stone and wood and brick and whatever, all in competition with each other). Tacky. And buildings with a nod in the direction of a beautiful past design but "modernized." Instead of something beautiful, it's as though they've taken something beautiful and deliberately uglified it. I'm sorry, but Ave Maria Oratory in Naples comes to mind. Maybe architecture is like Newman's idea of doctrine, it must develop organically. And there is nothing organic about these modernized replications. The cigar boxes are ugly, but these are downright offensive.
What's wrong with modern architecture is what's wrong with modern art, and what's wrong with both is what's wrong with modern artists and architects themselves. Love of beauty has been replaced with love of innovation.
No church should ever be designed by anyone who does not want to give glory to God, who does not love God, who does not even believe in God. Engineering credentials are irrelevant in design--let the engineers do the structural inspections, but not the design. I've seen a couple of modern churches that were not offensive (and I do mean as few as a "couple"). The designer did not throw away beauty, symmetry, but even there, there is a feeling of barrenness. And I've sat in the pews in old, shabby, little churches with no climate-control, with wooden floors that creak, where candles are burning, where little thank-you notes are left at the foot of some statue (often gaudily painted) and felt the distinct Presence.
Architects sculpt space. Church architects sculpt sacred space. Recognizing that the architect is limited by the constraints of budget, availability of materials, etc., the very first criterion should be the architect's own capacity for the sacred--the love of God. If that is not there, something else takes its place, and it will be love of self. So we get the desire for innovation, recognition, the desire for self-aggrandizement in one form or another. God cannot live there. If he cannot live in that soul, how can he live in the house that soul builds in its love of self alone?
There is a little chapel near the retreat house of the Trappist monastery in Conyers, Georgia. It's dedicated to Our Lady of Guadalupe. It has a few straight chairs, a gaudy statue, a zillion candles and many little notes and gifts of gratitude and petition. It's not more than thirty feet long or wide. It's holy. You know it the minute you walk in there. Designed by the monks for those who've had abortions. You can spend hours in there and not notice the passage of time. You can spend five minutes in one of those huge, multi-million dollar monstrosities and you can't wait to get out. Especially if you believe in God. They are not only ugly--they offend. And you KNOW that if they offend you, they certainly offend Him.
Later (5 August):
Matthew Alderman's "Paper Architecture" piece made me think (again) about architecture and architects. They are unique among creators in that they are both artist and scientist. Architecture itself is a sculpting of space. I think the problem is--well, first we have to assert that there is a problem, and problably most people would agree that there is--modern architecture (generically) is ugly. Period. So, why is it ugly?
The scientist is not functioning much better than the artist. Many modern buildings are shabbily designed for safety, among other structural problems. But it's the artist who's in serious trouble. The glass cigar boxes are notorious, and the attempt to "prettify" them with doo-dad pinnacle designs do not help. Worse than that is the attempt at re-editions: craftsman style houses that have been stripped down and re-issued in mixed media (stone and wood and brick and whatever, all in competition with each other). Tacky. And buildings with a nod in the direction of a beautiful past design but "modernized." Instead of something beautiful, it's as though they've taken something beautiful and deliberately uglified it. I'm sorry, but Ave Maria Oratory in Naples comes to mind. Maybe architecture is like Newman's idea of doctrine, it must develop organically. And there is nothing organic about these modernized replications. The cigar boxes are ugly, but these are downright offensive.
What's wrong with modern architecture is what's wrong with modern art, and what's wrong with both is what's wrong with modern artists and architects themselves. Love of beauty has been replaced with love of innovation.
No church should ever be designed by anyone who does not want to give glory to God, who does not love God, who does not even believe in God. Engineering credentials are irrelevant in design--let the engineers do the structural inspections, but not the design. I've seen a couple of modern churches that were not offensive (and I do mean as few as a "couple"). The designer did not throw away beauty, symmetry, but even there, there is a feeling of barrenness. And I've sat in the pews in old, shabby, little churches with no climate-control, with wooden floors that creak, where candles are burning, where little thank-you notes are left at the foot of some statue (often gaudily painted) and felt the distinct Presence.
Architects sculpt space. Church architects sculpt sacred space. Recognizing that the architect is limited by the constraints of budget, availability of materials, etc., the very first criterion should be the architect's own capacity for the sacred--the love of God. If that is not there, something else takes its place, and it will be love of self. So we get the desire for innovation, recognition, the desire for self-aggrandizement in one form or another. God cannot live there. If he cannot live in that soul, how can he live in the house that soul builds in its love of self alone?
There is a little chapel near the retreat house of the Trappist monastery in Conyers, Georgia. It's dedicated to Our Lady of Guadalupe. It has a few straight chairs, a gaudy statue, a zillion candles and many little notes and gifts of gratitude and petition. It's not more than thirty feet long or wide. It's holy. You know it the minute you walk in there. Designed by the monks for those who've had abortions. You can spend hours in there and not notice the passage of time. You can spend five minutes in one of those huge, multi-million dollar monstrosities and you can't wait to get out. Especially if you believe in God. They are not only ugly--they offend. And you KNOW that if they offend you, they certainly offend Him.