Columns Mean Learning

James Lileks has a post reviewing new shows, including HBO's Rome, which I have not seen, but know Hugh Hewitt is a big fan of the show.  While writing about Rome's new season, Lileks comments on the historical accuracy and detail of the sets.  This leads to an interesting discussion on Roman architecture:

All Western cultures like to think of themselves as reflections of Rome – heirs who believe they have bested the legacy, but still suspect they lack the iron in the spine that made Rome great. But we’re better than they were. The attributes that held them together are incompatible with an Enlightened society, and what virtues they had they consumed in their rise to power. But we feel a kinship, and that’s only natural; we all grew up associating their architectural vocabulary with ours. Church, business, government – everyone took turns dressing up in Roman glory.

Why? It’s peculiar, the assumptions we make. Think of “Gothic” church architecture - busy facades, filigreed steeples, flying buttresses, everything squeezed together and competing to get to  heaven first, giant stone mountains evaporating in an effervescence rapture. It seems very old and spooky. Roman, or “classical” architecture, almost stands outside of time: it’s a timeless ideal, and its effect on the Western imagination is so enduring that when the clumsy exhausted modernists came up with something like this in 1968 (click for a larger picture) they felt compelled to put columns out front to match the neighboring classical buildings. Because columns meant college and learning and civilization.  Such a building might have meant something else 2000 years ago – say, “here’s the place where they slit the throat of the bull and dump the blood on the rich lady who wants Jove to make sure her husband gets that new job” – but those meanings have been drained from the structures, replaced with meanings particular to Christianity and concepts associated with Christian cultures. 

I love the line "competing to get to heaven first"--it has a certain Tower-of-Babylon quality.  Also, the concept that classical architecture stands outside of time resonates with me.  I do not know, from a technical standpoint, why it does seem to be timeless--but I never tire of seeing it.  It would be great if someone who has studied architecture could explain how it does that.  Lileks' university example shows a building's architecture can look dated within a few decades--sadly, my university has more than its fair share of such designs--yet classical still draws the eye millennia latter.  I think the American Founders appreciated this fact, which is good for our Capital's architecture. 

I don't know why moderns must fixate on finding the new "thing."  Rediscovering the old "thing" would be just fine with me.

Back to the future,

Thomas More

allthesemore@yahoo.com

Comments

[Philomena]

I suspect that finding the "new thing" brings more personal recognition. I'm sure architects would like to have a distinctive style to be associated with, rather than getting the lukewarm pat-on-the-back for reflecting someone else's design (even if their new design is hideous). There's also the basic element of boredom. No matter how beautiful something is, we still stop appreciating it after a while and need change. But, I completely agree, Thomas- change does not necessarily mean progress!

[Thomas More]

I wonder though if classical architecture--or classical anything--is really "someone else's design". Maybe it is EVERYONE else's design. Meaning, maybe humans, collectively, have figured out that certain shapes, patterns, or styles always resonate with humanity--thus cannot get "old".

I agree with your point that people get a kick out of creating "their" new thing. Like being Columbus, everyone wants to discover something and get the glory. But I think there are only so many continents to find in this world, and once found, we need to explore them, rather than setting off for the next discovery--only to find some tiny atoll that won't matter 2 weeks later.