Vitruvius’ book is often included on the must-read shelves of architects – and rightly so. Not the easiest of reads, I have (skim) read it multiple times over the years, and each time have garnered something new from the reading. This review relates to my most recent (full) reading in preparation for a thesis on metaphorical architecture.
In Book II Chapter 1, Vitruvius outlines the “origin of buildings” – and in doing so, seemingly ties it to the simultaneous development of spoken language. In ‘ancient times’ he says, “men were born like wild animals in the forests, caves and woods, spent their lives feeding on fodder […] sounds with many different meanings were emitted when they uttered.” These ‘first groups’ began to build, Vitruvius says, by digging holes and seeking refuge in mud and branches woven to imitate the swallow’s nest. Over time, he says, “by observing each other’s shelters and incorporating the innovations of theirs in their own thinking about them, they built better kinds of huts day by day” and, apparently at the same time, “they began to talk in a haphazard way and so generated a common language.” In other words, as construction evolved from primitive shelter to vernacular architecture, so too language evolved, also through emulation, from ‘haphazard utterances’ to ‘common language.’ Although presented as assumed-knowledge or hear-say, Vitruvius’ notion of collective improving is a fascinating insight that assists my thesis tremendously.
Another aspect he writes of which is also of assistance, is the subject of an architect’s education. Using almost identical language to the semiologists (Sausurre, Barthes, Baudrillard, Eco and so on ) he says; “all fields, and especially architecture, comprise two aspects: that which is signified and that which signifies it. […] Therefore it is evident that a man who wants to proclaim himself an architect must be proficient with regards to both aspects.” Here, he says, there is never too much that an architect can learn including philosophy, astrology, history and science, literature and drawing. Moreover, as ‘unbelievable’ as it might seem to lay people, the ability to “retain such a large number of disciplines” in the architect’s intellect is possible because of their ‘complimentary relationships’ – “all disciplines are connected with, and feed into, each other […] For a general education is like a single body composed of these different limbs.” [This interconnectedness of information prefigures modern metaphor studies which tend towards inter-disciplinary investigations.]
Other important themes that underlie several sections of Vitruvius’ books, are the notions of ‘optics,’ ‘imitation,’ ‘reality’ and ‘truth.’ Mostly Vitruvius relates optics to the proportions of columns and their intercolumniation, how buildings look up close and from afar, as well as the ways in which “our sense of vision does not seem to produce reliable results, and the mind is often misled by it to arrive at faulty conclusions” - “what is real may seem false and some things may turn out to be different from how they appear to the eyes.” Whilst he praises ‘proper’ [i.e. honest] painted representations of ‘reality’ (examples include faux-columns and frescoes of vegetation and the battle of Troy), as well as optical adjustments [i.e. fudging] used to make columns look straight and platforms look flat, he disdains ‘decadent painting’ [i.e. cheating] that creates ‘depraved’ ‘monstrosities’ which invent a non-reality (he gives the examples of reeds supporting rooves and half-human-half-animal-creatures). He seems genuinely aghast by the current “minds obscured by faulty taste” which mean that “when people see these falsities they do not criticise them but find them delightful, ignoring the problem of whether any of them can exist or not.” For Vitruvius, architecture is bound to reality which in turn is bound to truth and rationality. He writes that the ancients recognised that “what is impossible in reality could not be based on sound principles” so their buildings, by imitating reality, had “a precise sense of propriety and […therefore…] the force of truth.” [It calls to mind the debates between Bernard of Clairvaux and his suspicion of the ‘monstrosities’ of Abbot Suger’s Gothic sculptures, Loos’ call of ‘crime’ against decoration over logic and austerity, as well as Plato’s suspicion of art as mimesis that gradually moves us further from reality and truth.]
The most obvious, and oft-quoted, section on the metaphoricity of architecture is the relationship between building-dimension and human-dimensions, extrapolated to make the three orders of ancient columns. Doric columns, he says, were designed for the temples of gods and “exhibit the proportions, strength and grace of the male body in buildings” and look “naked, undecorated and virile.” Ionic columns on the other hand, were originally designed for the temple of a goddess and therefore required refinement, “adapting them to feminine gracefulness,” with curled tops to mimic hair, and fluted trunks to match the folds of a dress. The third order is the most inventive of all, “called Corinthian, [it] imitates the elegance of a virgin, because virgins, who are endowed with more graceful limbs because of their tender age, achieve more elegant effects in their ornament.” Of the three orders, its origin story is the most elaborate, and involves the death of a virgin of marriageable-age whose mistress places her favourite cups in a basket upon her tomb. Over time, acanthus leaves grew in spiral volutes upon the basket and cups, and when an Athenian sculptor happened by he was “delighted by the style and the novelty of the form” and imitated in his columns at Corinth - and thus a new style was born from death.
Another ‘back-story’ Vitruvius supplies is for Caryatids. In this instance I was extremely taken aback. I had always looked upon the stone columns, shaped as women, as being indicative of goddesses; reliable, stoic, strong, capable women, placed there to willingly support the weight of the world (and the lintel) on their heads. If Vitruvius is to be believed, the opposite is in fact true, and the women are captured Carian’s (who had sided with the Persians against the Greeks), condemned to be stationed in stone in perpetuity, as “eternal examples of slavery crushed by appalling humiliation […] to pay penalty for the whole city.” [A quick search of the internet suggests he too may have got it wrong, but what this double-bind (his and mine) highlights is the ambiguous nature of meaning in architecture, and the risk of incorrect connotation, inference, construal, misappropriation and so on.]
To finish, Vitruvius thanked his predecessors for their ‘intelligent and useful practice’ of recording their ideas in books for future generations – and for this – we can praise Vitruvius, as he does his predecessors, with “no half-hearted thanks but infinite gratitude.”