into the depths of House
The House has been central to Architectural theory since mankind's desire to abandon natural forms of shelter (ie.: the cave, the forest canopy, etc.) led him to fashion, according to Laugier in his Essay on Architecture, an abode of found branches and leaves to shelter him more effectively. Thus, when Laugier's “rustic cabin”, also known as the 'primitive hut', first stood erect as an inhabitable structure independent of nature, as a result of man's determination and resourcefulness, the House emerged as the archetype of Architecture.
“The little rustic cabin (…) is the model upon which all the magnificences of architecture have been imagined (...) Pieces of wood raised perpendicularly, give us the idea of columns. The horizontal pieces that are laid upon them, afford us the idea of entablatures. In fine the inclining pieces which form the roof give us the idea of the pediment.”
Prior to providing a detailed account of his order of architecture, Laugier cites the Maison Carée at Nîmes as an example of a building comprised of only the column, entablature and pediment, and reasons this is why it is considered beautiful by all, further stating that “such a simplicity and grandeur (…) strikes every eye”. Such a statement, though telling of the potential for architecture to invoke a kind of aesthetic reverence in the viewer of its outward appearance (and as justification for an order of architecture as comprised of specific classical elements), inadvertently reduces Architecture to a solely visual endeavor, treating the descendents of the archetypal House as mere superficial objects.
“I can see nothing therein (of the rustic cabin), but columns, a floor or entablature; a pointed roof whose two extremities each of them forms what we call a pediment. As yet there is no arch, still less of an arcade, no pedestal, no attique, no door, even nor window. I conclude then with saying, in all the order of architecture, there is only the column, the entablature, and the pediment that can essentially enter into this composition. If each of these three parts are found placed in the situation and with the form which is necessary for it, there will be nothing to add; for the work is perfectly done.”
This kind of reduction leaves much to be desired regarding the potential for the interior spaces within this newly created world of the House. While the interiority of Laugier's abode is secondary to the basic necessary elements which comprise such a primal architectural edifice, we find the opposite in a poetical reading of the spaces of House. In Bachelard's Poetics of Space: the Classic Look at How We Experience Intimate Places, he describes the primary benefit of the House as follows:
“The house shelters day-dreaming, the house protects the dreamer, the house allows one to dream in peace.”
The role of Architecture for Bachelard is not mere shelter for the body, nor is it simply articulation of structure for the enjoyment of the eye, nor is it simply a space which one can 'see nothing therein', but rather it is the creation of a place, one which fosters a kind of poetic reverberation in the psyche of man.
For clarification as to what such a place might consist, as it relates to the inhabitant and his relationship to the House, we find direction in the words of Schulz in his Genius Loci: Towards a Phenomenology of Architecture:
“Man dwells when he can orient himself within and identify himself with an environment, or, in short, when he experiences the environment as meaningful. Dwelling therefore implies something more than “shelter”. It implies that the spaces where life occurs are places, in the true sense of the word. A place is a space which has a distinct character. Since ancient times the genius loci, or “spirit of place”, has been recognized as the concrete reality man has to face and come to terms with in his daily life. Architecture means to visualize the genius loci, and the task of the architect is to create meaningful places, whereby he helps man to dwell.”
The House, as a theoretical construct at least, is both the concrete manifestation of our physical needs and simultaneously of our psychological needs, acting as the locus for and receptacle of our most deepest desires, memories and even dreams. A House is a place in the world. In his concept of place, Schulz is undoubtedly indebted to Heidegger, who further expands our notion of what is meant by dwelling, in his essay entitled Building Dwelling Thinking, as follows:
“To be a human being means to be on the earth as a mortal. It means to dwell.” (…) “We do not dwell because we have built, but we build because and have built because we are dwellers.”
Heidegger goes on to provide an account of the world we dwell in his account of the fourfold, whereby earth and sky, divinities and mortals belong, comprising a 'oneness'; his holistic world-view considers man not only as a being in the world, but a part of the unity of the fourfold. In addition to the dualistic relationship between man and the world as being central to dwelling, for Heidegger, the nature of dwelling is (naturally) to “preserve” the fourfold unity of the world. To dwell is to be human, to be human is to be both in and of the world. How is it then, that we dwell? We turn to his thoughts in Poetically Man Dwells for clarification:
“Poetry is what really lets us dwell. But through what do we attain to a dwelling place? Through building. Poetic creation, which lets us dwell, is a kind of building. Thus we confront a double demand: for one thing, we are to think of what is called man's existence by way of the nature of dwelling; for another, we are to think of the nature of poetry as a letting-dwell, as a – perhaps even the – distinctive kind of building. If we search out the nature of poetry according to this viewpoint, then we arrive at the nature of dwelling.”
Heidegger sees poetry and dwelling, and by extension building, as interwoven. Dwelling then, involves not only embeddedness in the world, or for Heidegger the fourfold structure of the world, but also assumes a necessary relationship with the poetical. Theoretically, it would seem, we are approaching an understanding of what it means to dwell, to build, and subsequently to inhabit.
And yet, have we made progress? Beyond the realm of superficial objects, do we understand what a House truly is? Its purpose? The vagueness of Bachelard's desire to "dream in peace", presumably distanced from the outer world, when held in concert with Schulz's desire to "visualize the genius loci", to literally bring forth the spirit of a place, presents us with a spatial dilemma: one which seems to call for a space of neutrality and simultaneously for one which differentiates itself from other spaces by means of its unique character, as a place in and of itself.
We return to our initial search into the nature of the interiority of the House. For Kahn, an architect widely known for his poetic spatial and material sensibilities, the question is a simple one:
“The Kitchen wants to be the living room.
The Bed Room wants to be a little house by itself.
The car is the room on wheels.
In searching for the nature of the spaces of house
might they not be separated a distance from each other
theoretically before they are brought together.
A predetermined total form might inhibit what the
various spaces want to be.”
. . .
The House seen as a Collection of Worlds
The anatomy of a 'typical' single family house, explored via a cross-sectional collage of individual found images beset on a black background, leads to a personal interpretation of the House as an inversion of the standard holistic form: an amalgam of interior spaces, the settings where our most personal interactions with Architecture occur, a collection of Worlds.
The House as holistic object within the larger context of the world, whose integrity as a whole allows for our interpretation of it as such, begins to dissolve. The classical paradigm of the House as superficial object begins to give way as the varied spaces seem to transcend their allotted boundaries … to find their true form, perhaps?
Three distinct spaces: a place to cleanse, a place to cook and eat meals, a place to sleep and awake, are identified as fundamental to the larger body of the House, anchoring its inhabitant to it through the habitual and necessary acts which take place there.
The investigation continues with questioning the nature of what is essential to these distinct spaces to retain their character as such, while viewing them as separate spatial entities void of context outside of themselves – any reference to external context is to be considered abstract in the ideal sense. Such a process, while fundamentally flawed in a traditional and pragmatic way, may act as a vehicle of discovery as it relates to the nature of the spaces which comprise House, thus shedding light on the rich potentiality inherent in the interiority of the House itself.
The revealing of the essence of each space is described textually in no more than two Quatrains - traditional poetical form containing a stanza of four lines. It is from these descriptions that the inspiration for the eventual designs are derived.
a place to prepare and eat meals
the relationship between
these fundamentally bound
yet distinct
spaces
. . .
a table awaits
a blank canvas upon which to present
the fruits of ones' efforts
to themselves or others
a place to cleanse
the presence
of water
falling on
falling away
. . .
a private place
of healing
of cleansing
of renewal
a place to sleep and awake
the presence of light
in varying conditions
from night
to day
. . .
a safe place
of contemplation
of rest
a place to dream
...
Reflections on the three distinct spaces
A place to prepare and eat meals is conceived as two spaces which are distinct functionally, yet fundamentally bound architecturally. A hearth stands to divide and simultaneously join these spaces; fire, being instinctively integral to the act of cooking, is here offered as a gift to the inhabitants … to utilize or to simply acknowledge the presence of. Entry into the space to eat is along a narrow path which slowly descends into the cooking area. The verticality of this space would allow for ventilation as well as the entry of natural light, with the added effect of encasing the humble act of cooking in an unpretentious yet flattering space. Residing adjacently awaits a table, a blank canvas upon which to present the fruits of one's efforts, to themselves or others.
A place to cleanse is seen as a room within a room, a preparatory space surrounding a space devoted to the act of what we call 'taking a shower' or 'bathing'; here, of course, the spatial consequence of such an act is reconsidered. The preparatory space houses two handles on either side of the space which control the levels of hot and cold water entering the space of cleansing; once at their desired levels, the mixture of hot and cold water falls from above along a path of steel plates, forming a wall of water to enter into and under, a spatial element in and of itself. Light from above is diffused in this way as well, becoming one with the water which falls on and away through an abysmal drain below.
A place to sleep and awake. The idea of such a place as a safe haven within the outer world acts as a generator for the space itself. The incorporation of the bed as an integral spatial element in the composition, the roof as a critical element, the controlled presence and absence of natural light, and the method of entry are all of primary concern in the shaping of this space. Entry through a heavy wall becomes the threshold whereupon entry into this world begins; this thick wall also supports necessary storage spaces. The roof takes on a geometry of its own, sloping down from the point of entry to the location of the bed; while at once folding up and open on the sides to admit natural light in varying conditions from what could be night and day.
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