The definition of a good space is a sentient equilibrium between various aspects of the sensorial realm. For a space to be effective, without delving into the binomial paradigm of form and function (of which varieties are as kaleidoscopic as the vocabulary of the practice), it must be a balance of tectonic elegance, esthetic honesty and appropriate style. This is without saying that all three prerequisites a sincerity that is reflective of the intentions of the design, and responsive to the nuances of the purpose of the space. Too often design, in its modernist sense, tends to objectify methods and elements as superficial, and even superfluous conglomerations, and design professions become assimilative in their attempts to use thematic, trendy and outright out-of-context manners of eliciting curiosity, pulling from their vocabulary of morphologies and techniques with a singular objective. This translates into a veritable shock-and-awe bacchanalia for the sake of achieving that catch-all definition, iconic.
But true, mindful and coherent design comes not from the wordsmithery of forms and palettes, but a deeper intelligent understanding of the nuanced experience of space. The aspects of this process, although in no way absolute or dictatorial; is better comprehended with an outlining. Design must be fertilized with a philosophy, that lofty and intangible idea that becomes the seminal vector of any process. This philosophy should be made relevant by a concept, translated by the esthetic and consequently expounded by style.
Alacrity often leads to an overzealous usage of elements when the wielder of the palette fails to recognize the relevance of a grounded conviction to design. To envision a space, whether it is a room, a building, or a city, requires a depth of confidence with one’s craft and the fortitude to choose the design language with economy. To better understand this proposition, I must first establish the definitions and differences of the abovementioned aspects.
A philosophy is a guiding mark, the designer’s compass by which his visions find meaning and voice from, it’s the metronome to which his taste and language beats in synchronicity with. The philosophy could be self-apparent; such as the adage less is more or the more ubiquitous form follows function, or it could be more indefinite and does not easily relate to space; such as the Japanese philosophy of wabi-sabi or the celebration of the degradation of things, simply put allowing nature to run its course. Ultimately, a philosophy is the belief that is reverberating in spite of the designer’s plethora of outputs and ideas. This is akin to the aesthetic, or the philosophy of beauty in nature, art and science, not to be confused with esthetic.
The concept is the point of inspiration, that moving idea that becomes an impetus to translate the vision into form, and experience. For most it could be any number of things sensory from the lanceolate of a leaf, to the foaming of the littoral waves, for some it could an intangible such as balance, or linearity, or even the random ambiguity of simulated chaos. Whatever the concept is, it finds rhythm in the opus of the translation. The esthetic thus becomes a measure of the honesty of this translation, if by the final experience the concept can be deduced, the concept can either be strong and resilient, or the esthetic too superficial to elaborate its depth into meaning.
The esthetic is the designer’s palette. It is the elements and proportions, textures and language of forms that he wields to translate the concept into space. It is his box of crayons, his vocabulary; the syntax by which vision achieves structure. It is usually categorized as stylistic genres (such as brutalist, streamline moderne, industrial) or periodic mannerisms (such as mannerist, gothic revival, or art deco), but I consider these terminologies and definitions, although lends easily to the layman or uninitiated, inadequate to grasp the totality of what an esthetic is. It is, simply put, the genius loci by which a space can be identified, pulling from the designer’s far-reaching experience, exposure and training.
The style is that definitive mark, the cherry of the spatial baked good by which a place can be a memory, and an experience a moving, impressing one. It takes the elements of the esthetic and re-invents, adapts and reconfigures it to suit the purposes of design, function and economy. It is the finishing touch that establishes a space as complete, coherent and legible to the user.
The interplay and relations of these four – philosophy, concept, esthetic, and style, is the bloodline of a design, the hemoglobin that carries the intent into imagery, from imagination to experience. A good designer then must effectively, and with much humility and honesty, muster these to weave his vision. Theoretically, the possible combinatorics of these aspects are infinite and inexplicable, a notion that becomes most daunting especially for those whose basic idea of aesthetic is neither defined nor consistent.
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To demonstrate this, allow me to provide an exemplar. The philosophy is honesty in design, the concept is blending in, the esthetic is Greek revivalist, and the style contemporary. Imagine a building done like a Grecian temple, complete with friezes and cornices, doric columnation and patio steps, embedded in the urban fabric, built with the correct materials and proportions, yet in stark and pristine white (of course the original Parthenon was a florid and colorful beacon of religiosity meant to please the gods). What becomes translated is a space, although defined by historic language, is read as contemporary, albeit simplistic. Its subtle spirituality gained not from the dictation of purpose (as the original temples were) but by a modern interpretation of the same elements.
[The image above, a possible translation of this, is actually an office building at Brest Harbor in France]
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Although not entirely linear, as design progresses through these four aspects eventually being translated into the final spatial extant, the tangibility of the idea becomes more apparent. Thus, from the ideological philosophy of the auteur to the obsessive hardware of style, the layers create and enrich the space with a meaning beyond the semantic and iconographic.
To achieve great spaces, and great design, does not necessitate that all of the aspects be represented and legible in equal value and strength, for it would lead to a rather stale translation. What the objective must be is to create equilibrium in that all aspects relate to each other, with possibly one with a dominant gesture resonant in all layers of this output. A tensegrity is accomplished, precarious but elegant, between sensory forms and experiential value, between creativity and usability, and between purpose and pulchritude.
Creating an experience that germinates not from decisions of taste, but discretions of intent, becoming a symphony of idea and imagery, by the haptic and heuristic, of the sensory and cerebral. When done correctly and elegantly, esthetic beauty goes beyond the definitions of it being a function of the senses, transcending experience into intellect and proving that esthetics also resides in the idea.
The challenge is to achieve this elegance without the ruminations of effort, or the remnants of experimentation. When this is attained, the space moves one to emotion. And beauty transcends the physical, into the spiritual, from the astute to the awesome.
Next Fallacy of Form: Economics of Creativity
Image from
here.
The first Fallacy of Form is
here.
Fallacy of Form - Verdant Voice is
here.
