All architecture is what you do to it when you look upon it.
— Walt Whitman, Book XV, Leaves of Grass
In an interview in 2005 the painter Chuck Close described an unexpected source of inspiration. “I remember Clement Greenberg said to de Kooning that the only thing you can’t do in art anymore is make a portrait. I thought, well, if Greenberg thinks [you] can’t do it, then I am going to have a lot of operating room all to myself.” Close devoted his career to portraits, often of himself, and in the process he brilliantly reinvented the genre. 1
Today architecture criticism needs that kind of bold reinvention. With most major U.S. newspapers having laid off their architecture critics in recent years — effectively eliminating the position — it has increasingly become a journalistic form — or an essayistic art — nearly impossible to practice. This development hasn’t gone unnoticed, or unlamented, and last year Design Observer critic Alexandra Lange and editor Nancy Levinson laid out some of the reasons in two widely read pieces. In “Why Nicolai Ouroussoff Is Not Good Enough,” Lange argues that Ouroussoff, the architecture critic of The New York Times from 2004 until this past summer, diminished the position. “His approach — little history, less politics, occasional urbanism — shrinks the critic’s role to commenting only on the appearance of the architecture,” she wrote. And she speculated that Ouroussoff, by “not making a case for keeping the breed,” might “turn out to be the last architecture critic.” Lange’s lament has proven prescient, for Ouroussoff may well have been the last architecture critic at the Times — or at least its last full-time critic dedicated to architecture; it’s telling that the Times, rather than hiring a replacement, has given the architecture beat to its art critic, Michael Kimmelman. 2 While Lange’s obituary for the field seems somewhat New York-centric — after all, a few American papers still retain notable architecture critics, including Blair Kamin at the Chicago Tribune and Christopher Hawthorne at the Los Angeles Times — she rightly argues that we may be witnessing a professional extinction: the architecture critic writing regularly for a major newspaper.
Lange not only highlights the inadequacy of Ouroussoff’s writing; she also makes an impassioned plea for the kind of criticism that architecture deserves. “What we need is criticism that treats renderings and buildings as different,” she says. “We need criticism that connects us to a building’s references, emotions and texture, not only its news value. We need criticism moored to place, and to the history of that place. … Ouroussoff is not good enough because he reinforces the worst trends in architectural culture, never explains where he comes from and never explores the many different places we might go.”
Nancy Levinson, the editor of Places, expands on Lange’s argument in her essay “Critical Beats.” Levinson sees the decline of architecture criticism as the result not only of the highly reductive “art-critique” approach of critics like Ouroussoff, but also of the intensifying internationalization of the field. “The accelerating globalization of architecture culture,” she writes, “has created for architecture criticism an unintentional conundrum, which is that it’s practically impossible to produce good criticism on a global scale.” Add to that the “messy confusion of the early days of the digital revolution,” as Levinson puts it, which is challenging journalism to develop new business and editorial models, and we can see why newspapers have jettisoned everyone not considered essential — with architecture critics among the first to go.
The globalization of the discipline, Levinson aptly observes, has not only made the beat too big, too far-flung, for any one critic to cover in any depth; it’s also made the criticism that results less relevant or at least more distant to many newspaper readers. Levinson compares buildings to film and music — media whose easy transportability makes them accessible and affordable to audiences and critics alike, and thus empowers knowledgeable and engaged criticism. In contrast, the sheer immobility of architecture makes it among the least accessible of the arts; and its criticism, especially when practiced on a global scale — with U.S. critics making quick junkets to review new projects in Dubai or Shanghai, Milan or Basel —can become shallow and unconvincing. As Levinson says: “How can architecture criticism compete [with film and literature criticism]? How can the individual critic amass the disciplinary equivalent? To write with in-the-bones insight about the output of any one of our era’s peripatetic architectural stars, let alone the collective production of the whole constellation, would take endless international travel and an unlimited expense account — and those are just the logistics. To claim with conviction that this artwork or that artist is at the top of the game is only convincing if you’ve paid keen attention to the rest of the field.”
Lange and Levinson argue persuasively that we need better architecture criticism: more locally connected, passionately argued, disciplinarily expansive and intellectually focused. Their prescriptions would go a long way toward improving the quality of criticism. But they don’t say much about where such newly vigorous criticism might actually occur, especially given the revolutionary disruptions that are upending traditional publishing, including the collapse of the old business models that once supported careers in critical writing. Nor do they explore what the increasingly rapid transition from print to digital might mean for criticism in the future. So, to paraphrase Chuck Close: if the rapidly shifting media culture is making it almost impossible to practice conventional architecture criticism anymore, then aspiring critics will have a lot of operating room all to themselves.
Aspiring architecture critics can take at least three lessons from Chuck Close’s nervy reinvention of portraiture. The first: think big. Not only did Close physically — literally — enlarge his portraits to be much larger than the human head; he has also pursued what he calls “all-over-ness,” which he defines as a “commitment to the whole … [to making] every piece as important as every other piece.” In the process he forces viewers to see his portraits as “landscape-like … stumbling over beard hair and falling into a nostril … [as] if you were walking across a real landscape.”
A similar ambition for “all-over-ness” would benefit architectural criticism, which has focused for far too long on too few architects. Just as the practice of making flattering portraits of famous people seemed dead to Greenberg (and to Close), so too has the tradition of critics writing pandering pieces about famous architects’ custom buildings for privileged clients begun to collapse under its own tired weight. That is precisely “why Nicolai Ouroussoff is not good enough,” to quote Lange’s title. 3 We do not need just a better critic along the lines of Ouroussoff; we need different kinds of critics — critics willing to abandon the whole moribund tradition he represents.
Both Lange and Levinson mention Lewis Mumford, the architecture critic for The New Yorker from the early 1930s until the early ’60s, as an important model of a locally engaged critic. Mumford, writes Levinson, was “endlessly exploring the city, all five boroughs too, tracking not just the big obvious projects like Rockefeller Center and the ’39 World’s Fair but also public housing in Queens and laundry buildings in the Bronx.” What Mumford also did, though — and what few architecture critics have done since — was to enlarge the scope of the endeavor; he saw architecture not simply as the art of building but more broadly as a lens through which we can view and understand our culture and ourselves. I speak here from personal experience. In the mid 1970s, when I was still in architecture school, I wrote to Lewis Mumford — then 80 years old— and with the naïve chutzpah that only students seem able to muster anymore, I asked him what I needed to do to become an architecture critic like him. To my delight, he wrote back, emphasizing — with typical Mumfordian aplomb — that in addition to knowing something about architecture, I needed to know something about almost everything else. By way of getting me going, he sent a list of “great books” that I needed to read if I were to write about the field with the breadth he thought it deserved. 4
Mumford set an impossibly high bar, and to be sure, he practiced the craft in a less hurried and more culturally cohesive era. But still, a more intellectually expansive architecture criticism would not only do justice to the increasing range of architects’ projects and interests — which far exceed what Lange nicely dismisses as the “the globe-trotting, star-gazing, architecture-as-sculpture approach” — but would also make architecture a more compelling topic for readers who otherwise don’t think much about the field. Mumford didn’t write about buildings as ends in themselves, but instead as reflections of ourselves. Because of its sheer complexity — the intricate collaboration and shared responsibility needed to design and construct a building — architecture can tell us more about the compromises and confusions that constitute the human condition than most other arts. Unlike art forms that express the vision of the individual creator — books, paintings, symphonies, etc. — architecture requires many contributors, and nobody can truly control the final result or the diverse messages it embodies. But to read those messages, we need intrepid critics willing to look beyond the façade and below the surface of projects.
For decades the discipline of architecture has been gazing at itself in the flattering mirror held up by overly obliging critics. And for this reason the demise of architecture criticism in the newspapers reflects a much larger problem: the implicit assumption, on the part of the public, that architecture is more or less decorative, even irrelevant; that in a world beset with systemic problems, architects, at least as typically presented by critics like Ouroussoff, seem to have little to offer — or at least, little beyond the kinds of expertly rendered blue-sky speculations that enhance academic reputations but have zero chance of being realized. To counter that impression, architecture critics need to think big — to reverse the mirror and show what buildings reveal about the nature of contemporary problems, and how profoundly buildings are implicated in the economic, social and environmental dilemmas we face and how they might thus contribute to effective and grounded solutions. This kind of criticism will make the discipline more relevant, and more compelling to read about. And as I have learned writing about design for the Huffington Post, the public wants to know what we have to say about the issues of the day.
Chuck Close not only enlarged the scale of portraiture; he also looked at it (so to speak) up close, painting not faces, but photographs of faces. As he says, the photographs were “far more interesting because there was a range of focus. The tip of the nose blurred, the ears and everything else went out of focus.” By looking at something familiar from a new perspective, with his eyes wide open, he began to see realities that other portrait painters had overlooked.
A similar opening-up needs to happen with architecture criticism. By focusing so intently and narrowly on a relatively few iconic buildings, old-school critics have offered a blinkered view of the field; their criticism seems blind to the larger environments — the neighborhoods, districts, cities, suburbs, landscapes — in which most of us spend our lives. (Which perhaps explains the very large percentage of “architecture” that architects play no part in designing.) Why would most newspaper readers care about criticism that seems to relate so little to their experience? The question is implicit in both the Lange and Levinson pieces, and it perhaps explains why the disappearance of architecture critics from many newspapers has elicited so little comment — and virtually no protest — outside the architectural community.
Ada Louise Huxtable, the first New York Times architecture critic and still its best, serves as a benchmark for how far the field has strayed from its former relevance. Describing Huxtable’s focus at the Times and more recently at the Wall Street Journal, Levinson writes, “Huxtable … operates across the different scales of the city. She doesn’t ignore the big architects but she’s a connoisseur of neighborhood character, and she’s been fierce in exposing the backroom deal-making that she argues has coarsened the richly textured city of her youth.” Just as Close traced the stresses of modern life in the hair follicles and skin wrinkles on the giant faces he painted, so too has Huxtable drawn our attention to the multifaceted and often ugly realities behind the making of architecture, tracking, in detailed analyses of projects, the stresses and strains of developing cities and constructing buildings. Huxtable’s approach balances that of Mumford. If the latter saw all of culture reflected in the glass and steel of architecture, Huxtable has focused more on the particulars of projects, how they came to be and what they mean. That she has managed to do so for almost five decades indicates not only her courage as a critic (she regularly rankles the powerful in language that’s unequivocal) but also her sense of the vital role that architecture plays in people’s daily lives.
I have heard some critics dismiss Huxtable as outdated, largely because of her unwavering support for modernism and her ongoing criticism of postmodernism in its various guises, from superficially collaged historicism to digitally enabled formalism. Their dismissal, though, speaks to one of the major limitations of architecture criticism as conventionally practiced: the association of critics with particular styles or approaches, and with the architects whose work exemplifies them. This has led some critics — as Lange observes not only about Ouroussoff but also about his Times predecessor Herbert Muschamp — to become in effect purveyors of public relations for a select circle and their acolytes. When criticism is co-opted in this fashion, it’s time to wring out the old and ring in the new.
Close helped to do that in portraiture by steering away from the production of flattering paintings for patrons to hang above their mantles and toward more honest and often unsettling depictions of the human face. Architecture critics need to follow an equally courageous course, writing honestly about the bruises as well as the beauty in our designed environments (and being unafraid to make enemies in the process). Rather than defining “architecture” largely — or narrowly — as expressive and expensive objects located in prosperous enclaves around the globe, critics need to recognize that architecture worth writing about is everywhere around us. “The great thing about art is that it is equal-opportunity,” says Close. “You’re not consigned to understanding it or not by position of birth and status and wealth.” That is also the great thing about architecture, if we let it be so.
The capacity of Close’s portraits to grab and hold our attention suggests a third lesson. As he describes it, “The most sophisticated art-world insider and the layperson share an entrance into the work irrespective of the art-historical baggage they bring with them to the painting … they are relating as a person to an image of just another person.” Few museum-goers can pass a Close painting in a gallery without stopping, without moving in close to see the abstraction of detail and then stepping back to see the unity of the whole.
A similar quality pervades the work of another great mid-20th century critic. In her essay Levinson describes Jane Jacobs as a “passionate observer of the New York scene”; but what ultimately distinguishes Jacobs’s critical writings and makes them so worthy of emulation has to do not just with her detailed and compelling evocations of life in Greenwich Village, as in her landmark The Death and Life of Great American Cities, but also with her remarkable ability to see the details of urban life as part of the larger whole, as in her later books like The Nature of Economies and Cities and the Wealth of Nations.
Or to put it another way: Jacobs showed how critics can claim a wider territory. They needn’t simply respond to the work of others, assessing it as a fait accompli; as Jacobs demonstrated time and again, critics could strive to be intellectual and political leaders, envisioning different futures, making new connections and providing insightful and unexpected explanations for seemingly mundane things. Her greatness as a critic arose from her ability not only to see the relationship between parts and wholes, but also to abstract from reality in order to develop theories that help explain a range of phenomena, best exemplified in her late book, Systems of Survival: A Dialogue on the Moral Foundations of Commerce and Politics.
As Lange tartly observes, in his defense of Frank Gehry’s ill-fated Atlantic Yards project, Ouroussoff took digs at the “acolytes of the urbanist Jane Jacobs” as a “bunch of … sentimentalists.” But it’s actually Ouroussoff who deserves the sentimentalist tag; he perfectly exemplifies the tendency in criticism to keep arguing the old 20th-century debates, apparently never realizing how radically different the 21st century is already proving to be. Lange pegs it when she calls Ouroussoff “the perfect critic for the boom years, when looks were the selling point,” and then argues that his “formal, global approach seems incongruous in a downturn.” I would go farther than incongruous, and call it downright clueless in the midst of what the Harvard economist Kenneth Rogoff has called the “the second great contraction.” Given the likelihood that the U.S. and global economies will spend years, maybe decades, deleveraging from the public and private debt accrued before 2008, so too it seems inevitable that the field of architecture will have to make profound adjustments. Any architecture critic worthy of the beat will confront this head-on.
What will architecture in the deleveraging world of the new millennium look like? What part will it play in defining the new normal? Jane Jacobs, who moved fluidly between architecture and economics, would have been in her glory in this difficult new era, and would have formulated answers not necessarily comforting to either architects or their clients. She approached architecture as part of what she termed “dynamically stable systems,” that serve to link the field to both ecosystems and economies, and she showed that the more we construe architecture — or any discipline, for that matter — as somehow separate, or autonomous, the more untenable and ineffectual it will become. 5 Indeed, our current economic crisis illustrates this danger all too well. The underwater mortgages and overleveraged loans that underlie this latest great contraction result in significant part from valuing both residential and commercial buildings merely as investment vehicles rather than as complex and consequential things-in-the-world. And on this urgent issue, which places buildings at the very center of key political and economic debates, architecture critics have been mostly missing in action.
The irony is plain. Architecture criticism is in danger of disappearing at the very moment when we need, more than ever, a searching and sustained critical conversation about the built world. That conversation should try to help the larger public understand the designed environment not simply as an economic abstraction or tourist attraction, not merely as a matter of privileged amenities or rarefied aesthetics, but more fully as a continuous and immersive environment vital to social well-being and national identity. Demystifying architecture, and powerfully articulating its extensive impact, will ultimately help us understand how to deleverage it.
A revitalized and expansive architecture criticism should — like the paintings of Chuck Close — command the public’s attention almost despite itself. That seems especially likely given the changing media world. As print newspapers and periodicals give way to their online counterparts, the arena for the new debate will be the intellectual free market of the Internet, where ideas capable of seizing attention, of going viral, will create a new space for criticism. This is where great architecture criticism will happen in the future. 6 But it’s essential that we move beyond the obsolete models and, as Levinson puts it at the end of her essay, “expand … the gene pool of critical possibilities.” If we think big enough, get real enough, and command enough attention, the critical possibilities are, as Chuck Close showed with portraiture, almost endless.
12.01.2011 at 10:23
who did the portraits? how?
12.01.2011 at 13:00
I'd be interested in seeing that list of "great books" that you said mumford sent you.
12.01.2011 at 21:22
The reason why Huxtable stands above the rest is that she thought for herself and had her own opinions; it seems that Romney-eque second-handers, eager to please, dominate the dialogue. Architecture is branded for mass appeal: would you like to read about Gehry-ism? Brutal-ism? Green-ism? Or another article about the future of criticism? Tell me a story I don't already know. And something that happens outside of the design scenester world please! Like, what happens in reality, not p.r. for the next fad.
Ouroussoff latched onto starchitects, while Kimmelman apologizes by saying "hey, this is serious architecture, but i'm going to tell you about more important things like the politics of low income housing because that is what people like nowadays" (not real quote). But is it good architecture? How publications of authority like the Times peddles safe, bland criticism is a mystery. At least the movie section gets a little spice. Meanwhile designers shrug and move ahead, to reality.
12.02.2011 at 03:05
Thanks for the good article. Ironically, there is more local writing about architecture on blogs, on Facebook, in forums like this, on web pages like Archinect, than ever before. There is also a whole lot of publishing. When the critics were "important" there were fewer outlets, hence the voices that were available had more authority. Maybe the loss of authority is gradually emasculating the few remaining voices.
12.02.2011 at 19:40
There maybe more writing about architecture on blogs, but it's mostly very, very bad. Not well researched, and locality is its strongest point. There is still need for voices of authority--we just need ones that actually know what architecture is, not random writers.
12.03.2011 at 06:48
Hitting the "reset" button on architectural criticism is a requisite if only to force the debate about why locus matters. If all architecture is global, then context is lost. For me, the sense of place trumps the repetitive motion injury caused by modular applications of liquid form fused to respectable feats of engineering. The political and financial forces acting upon the built world have laid bare the common greed.
Chuck Close is an inspiring mediator when thinking big. Thanks for an inspiring piece.
12.04.2011 at 04:04
The addition of two words would transform architecture criticism profoundly: "and energy". At a stroke, it would extend the writer's scope beyond "what will architecture look like?" to an engagement with the biggest of the big issues.
Energy and architecture is not totally untrodden ground. Luis Fernandez-Galiano's "Fire and Memory: On Architecture and Energy" remains the definitive text. But he wrote that in 1991 (the English language MIT Press edition came out in 2000) and would be surprised if, today, 20 years on, even 1% of architecture students have read it.
Bill Braham is having another go at curing architecture's wilful energy blindness: he's organising a conference on architecture and energy in Philly at the end of January, followed by a book later.
12.06.2011 at 07:50
The "and energy" is spot on. From source / extraction to consumption to co-generation, the breadth of issues and the filters that could be applied to the built environment are boundless.
John, you have hit the mark and I appreciate knowing about the book. Thank you.
12.08.2011 at 15:28
Thanks for this! I like the comparison to Chuck Close a lot, but there's one wrinkle of the comparison you don't mention. Close's ability to make each little part matter, as well as and in the context of some greater whole, comes in part, ironically, from his face-blindness. To remember a face, Close necessarily has to scan littler parts; he has trouble with their relationships and adjacencies, but because of that, can reorganize them in ways that reconstitute and challenge those relationships.
I think this could well carry over to your questions about architecture criticism. So many of us in 2011's cities and towns, living increasingly narrow, compartmentalized and separate lives within built environments we pretend to understand as wholes, neglect the relationships and adjacencies and seams that really make these environments what they are, in favor of a few, often poorly sewn, "wow" parts. I'm not sure we need this -- there's a lot of rich work out there, amongst urban geographers and historians, about the seams of cities past and present -- but the idea of someone who's city-blind coming in to help us understand cities, just as face-blind Close helped us understand faces, intrigues me.
Also, I've recently been reading Mumford's art criticism, which is an interesting counterpoint to his writing about architecture and cities. Without contemporary access to the work he discusses, the essays are striking for a few reasons. First, they are compellingly relational... he cares both about the smallest details of the work, and about situating each artist not only amongst her peers, but also in the grand cycle of history and time, with the highest stakes. Scale, no doubt conditioned by his experience with cities, place, and time, feels vital within all his reviews, but he's also refreshingly adept at calling the linearity of scale into question, just as close is in a different way.
His suggestion to read more broadly and deeply makes perfect sense, too (and I'd also love to see that list he sent you): the second thing that strikes you about his art reviews is how much you trust him, whether you agree with every little thing he says or not, to be at least writing about the right things. I wonder whether Ouroussoff's issue was that he was saying the wrong things, or that he was picking his subjects too narrowly; Kimmelmann, by contrast, seems to be picking his subjects admirably, even if you don't agree with his every word.
We've been so far away from the questions that really matter about place, people, and community within architecture criticism for so long, that I think there's a danger of lauding anything that talks about these issues, even if it does so poorly. The real challenge will be to shift the debate back to where things matter enough that there can *be* a debate, and not just a back-pat for the shifting.
12.09.2011 at 11:01
At last. The emperor is sent back to the dressing room by the people.
12.10.2011 at 07:05
It took me four sittings to finish the long piece to read about writing on writing. My take to the crises is that on the one hand that US readers demand much more from the cotemporary critics of which the critics are unable to provide due to the globalization where many projects are not local to them. For readers they can find interest in reading any critique about a project located in any part of the world as long as it is well and rightly written. So the solution to our current crises in US -- local architects working abroad, the media just has to abandon critique from a single source. It would do well to have an open source. Once that as a framework, critique must still adhere to what Mumford and Huxtable way -- comprehensive and work from the ground. Sure there also should have a touch of Herbert Muschamp's intellectual input to extend our thoughts to where never have been. I call the current situation a crises because of the consequence of a limited way in critiquing architecture as the blind leading the blind.
12.23.2011 at 16:25
Thank you all for your comments. I believe that the software used to make the Chuck-Close-like images of Jacobs, Mumford, and Huxtable was Houdini. Here is a link to an online tutorial: http://adamswaab.wordpress.com/2010/11/20/houdini-chuck-close-effect-tutorial/
I don't have the list of books with me, but I recall that his list included Plato's Republic, Thoreau's Walden, Emerson's Essays, as well as literature like Melville's Moby Dick and Whitman's Leaves of Grass. It was a "great books" list with a definite American tilt.
I agree that there is some good (and a lot of bad) architecture criticism in the blog sphere. Although I don't follow most of this, my sense is that there is a lot of opinion and very few ideas behind a lot of what I read on blogs.
I also agree that "energy" and a lot of the other big issues of our era need to be at the core of architecture criticism. Mumford and Jacobs in particular, were cultural critics first and architecture critics second, and I think that the great critics of the future will arise from those who have something meaningful to say to the general public not just about architecture, but also through architecture.
12.24.2011 at 10:19
Thanks for a great article - I've had it tagged for ages and finally had the opportunity to read it! I am very struck by the content of Mumford's list and it makes me wonder about the on-going narrowing of architectural education and conventional practice. The point that the great critics (Mumford, Huxtable, Jacobs) discussed architecture as part of culture, history, and social relationships is crucial. Design is not just about form and aesthetics but also about how social, economic, environmental systems are translated into spatial, material form. Understanding these systems requires making connections across disciplines and literatures - something that architects are trained to do but our range of references seems to be shrinking. High school English classes no longer read literature but instead create PowerPoint presentations about favorite celebrities; college students take communications courses on social media; architecture students have never heard of Thoreau or Whitman and have to be instructed on the form of an expository essay.
One ray of light - in comments from my most recent studio, the students requested more readings! Most said they had never been asked to read as part of a design course and were most excited to read non-architectural writing. Perhaps a course on architecture and American literature would be appropriate!