Architecture and personal aesthetics

Robert Campbell of The Boston Globe reviewed Alain de Botton’s latest book, The Architecture of Happiness.

I mentioned Alain de Botton a couple times last year. Campbell starts his review by pointing out that

“It’s rare that you can recommend to the general reader a book about architecture. Too many books on that topic are clotted attempts at philosophy that read as if they’d been mistranslated from the German. Or they’re sales jobs, plugging some single architect or point of view. Or they’re stuffed with too many facts and dates. Or they’re overpriced picture books.”

Architecture does have it’s own vernacular — in fact it has it’s own science, referred to as Architectonics. Reading architectural theory such as Vitruvius’ Ten Books on Architecture or The Dynamics of Architectural Form might be fun for architects or philosophers, but I can easily imagine how other people would think it a bad German translation.

In line with de Botton’s views on personal taste, Campbell notes that The Architecture of Happiness makes an obvious point which is very often overlooked:

“It’s simply that we seek, in our architecture, an antidote to the world we otherwise inhabit. That’s why CEO s in Denver, who work in modernist glass-box downtown towers, drive home to traditional mansions that look like — and sometimes are — equestrian estates. That’s why guys who work all day in a welding shop seldom want to live in a building that the architect, who has a crush on the “honesty” of the industrial look, has designed to resemble a factory. Each ‘either’ needs its ‘or.’”

Two things in response to de Botton’s observations as put forward by Campbell:

1: If a person could strike a balance in architectural design, would we see less of these polarized styles? The lady I go to for hair cuts decorates her small downtown studio in this manner. Though she possesses no formal training in design that I’m aware of, the result is very pleasant: Classic shelving and moldings deftly mingle with sleek modern furniture.

2: In my own opinion, most homes these days fit neither a modern or traditional style. They instead represent a bland intersection (I’m thinking of McMansions, a number of which I’ve either walked-through or helped build.) of the two ends of this spectrum. Kitchens are usually quite modern while the rest of the homes seem best described as large-yet-poorly-planned rooms too keep out the elements. Sure, the higher-end models will throw in tray ceilings and crown molding, but instead of actually being part of a well-considered plan these details come across merely as eye candy.

I like how de Botton’s mind works — from the little I know of it, and actually hope I can find opportunity to read this book.