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The need for theoretical knowledge in Architectural Practice.

The epistomological field of architecture is not one that is easily comprehended

or generally agreed upon, not even by people working

within it. On the contrary it is a field where various forms of knowledge

meet and where their specific art and relations seldom is investigated.

This often leads to dichotomic statements from advocates of different

standpoints, let us say between representatives for an artistic or a

scientific approach to the subject, for instance. To deepen the understanding

of architectural knowledge and its internal entities and relations

as to, among other things, reconcile such unproductive conflicts,

can in many ways be said to be the theme in the work of Bill Hillier. I

will thus in this first part of my paper, heavily relying on the two first

chapters of Hilliers ‘Space is the machine’, called ‘What architecture

adds to building’ and ‘The need for an analytical theory of architecture’,

try to sort out some of these entities and their relations in the

epistomological field of architecture.1 First, as to point out the poignant

need for scientific research within architecture, second, as to point

to exactly where such knowledge is useful in architectural practice.

The century of architectural building

As the century closes it is possible to look back on what must be

regarded as the most tremendous period in the history of mankind.

This is the century when man can be said to finally have conquered the

world and totally changed the face of the earth. In a way we can say

that man in the beginning of this century inhereted a natural world,

where most of its content was so to say given, but in the passing of

time transformed it so that what we now are leaving for future generations,

is to a very high degree an artificial world, a world constructed

by man. Thus, it is possible that if this century in many respects was

the century of natural science, the next will be the century of what

Herbert Simon calls the science of the artificial.2 We have learned so

much about the given natural world in the passing of this century, but

as the artificial to an ever growing degree becomes part of that world

we also need to learn more about the artificial.

One of the major fields in this science of the artificial, is the field of

construction and building. Never before has man built as much as in

this century, but the difference is not only one of quantity but also one

of quality. One of the most noticeable features of construction in this

century is the degree of architectural building. By architectural building

I simply mean a building that is the result of the work and specific competence

of architects. In earlier historical periods such buildings have

been marginal phenomena, even if very often it is just the architectural

building that has become permanent and noticed by posterity. During

previous centuries, the majority of buildings have instead been of the

type that can be called traditional or popular or, to use a better expression,

vernacular buildings. This means a building that is not based on

the type of specialist knowledge represented by architects, but knowledge

that is part of a more general cultural tradition. The purpose underlying

this distinction is not to make a value judgement of the type

that architectural building is qualitatively better than vernacular, but

rather to make an important observation following Hillier, namely that

the different kinds of buildings derive from different types of knowledge.

3 It is namely first when we become conscious of this fundamental

difference that we can begin to understand what is specific to the building

of our epoch and furthermore why this entails special problems.

Another noticeable feature of building during the twentieth century

is that for the first time in history, building can be said to have been a

failure, naturally not in its entirety, but remarkably often. This may

sound like a dismissive remark, but in the following argument I hope to

make it less startling. To begin with it is simply difficult to find examples

of vernacular building during history that can be alleged to have

been a failure. This is virtually a necessary consequence of the very definition

of vernacular building, which is a direct spatial answer to local

needs and values in the cultural context from which it emerges. Purely

technically, there have certainly been flaws that were experienced as

problematic, but it is difficult to talk about functional or aesthetic failures

in a more fundamental sense. The architectural building of this

century, by contrast, has been continuously criticised on both the functional

and aesthetic planes, and has even been accused of being a strong

contributory cause of many of the social problems shared by the western

welfare states. By this I do not wish to make the reverse value statement,

that vernacular building is more natural and therefore better

than architectural. What I want to do is to draw attention to these facts,

as I maintain that it is necessary to take them seriously if we want to develop

our knowledge in the science of the artificial when it comes to the

special field of construction and building.

The characteristics of architectural building

The reason that architectural building sometimes, but indeed not

always, can be said to fail while the vernacular per definition almost

never does, is derived from the fact that they emerge from different

kinds of knowledge. If we begin by looking more closely at these types

of knowledge, it also becomes possible to arrive at a better understanding

of what I mean by failure in this context.

The vernacular building can be described as a type of knowledge

that derives from handwork which is slowly developed over generations

through the utilisation of a bank of practical knowledge that is transferred

from individual to individual through practical expression.

Proven solutions with a known outcome are transferred over time with

changes being introduced slowly, the practical expression of which is

tested so as to be adopted or rejected. This does not mean that developmental

leaps dependent on impressions from outside or on internal innovations

do not occur, but rather that to an overwhelming extent it is

a question of a slow development of knowledge based on proven experience.

The development of such knowledge furthermore occurs in a

given social and cultural context, which entails a direct reflection of the

needs and values established within it. The social order, in this way, receives

a physical expression in the spatial order and the opposite, the

spatial order supports the social order. We can even say that the spatial

order is one of the more important means by which the social order reproduces

itself.4 The close ties between both of these orders in vernacular

building enable me to dare to claim that in principle the vernacular

building is never a failure, but in its given context is always satisfying.

We thus see great similarities between knowledge in the vernacular

building which we usually call skills or techne, that is, knowledge of how

one does something.

To be reliant on given traditional forms is nevertheless almost a negation

of architecture, since architecture to so great a degree is valued

on the basis of its capacity for innovation and the formulation of new

solutions. Architectural knowledge is expressed almost in the opposite

way compared to the vernacular, namely in its capacity to be creative

rather than derivative. As Hillier points out, to copy is one of the greatest

tabus in architecture — he is not speaking of conscious loans —

while it in many cases is exactly what is looked for in the vernacular.6 At

a deeper plane this difference is concerned with a greater consciousness

in architectural knowledge with the ideas from which it emerge. We can

very well imagine that even architects work through deriving ideas from

older types of buildings; the difference being that they are conscious of

what they are doing. For them it is thus a question of a conscious choice

among various approaches. Such conscious choices between different

theoretically possible options are, however, just what does not occur in

vernacular building.

This also tells us something about the way that architectural knowledge

is transmitted. It differs namely from the vernacular in the way

that it is not transmitted through practical experience from individual

to individual, even if this also takes place, but largely with the assistance

of theoretically formulated ideas. Underlying practically all greater architectural

innovation during the twentieth century are more or less interlinked

theories, which function to inspire architectural work to take

new directions — even if perhaps the realised constructions related to

these theories plays an even greater role. What is typical for such theories

or constructions is a lack of ties to a clear social context. On the

contrary, what is innovative often consists of transferring and applying

ideas from one context to another, or setting parts of different contexts

into new wholes. Architectural knowledge is thus based on ideas or

theoretically based in a way that we cannot say applies to the vernacular.

To put it in Bill Hilliers unhesitating words: ‘architecture is theory applied

to building’.8 This means that architects can be said to work at a

theoretical level, that they make innovative choices that do not simply

emerge from the cultural context in which they exist or from the practical

tradition to which they belong, but that they also borrow from

other contexts or develop solutions along new principles. We can thus,

in distinction to the vernacular, see how architectural knowledge resembles

what we usually call scientific knowledge or episteme, that it is not

simply knowledge of how one does something, but also of why one does

it.

The problem with architectural building

At the same time it is exactly here where the problems arise with a

building based on architectural knowledge. It is, as we saw, a form of

knowledge that is proficient at generating new spatial orders or setting

existing ones into new contexts. Nevertheless, for obvious reasons,

there is a lack of an experiential basis for such solutions of the kind

that exist in vernacular knowledge. This makes it difficult to predict

how the solutions that architects work with will be accepted and function

in the social orders in which they are applied. The links between

these two orders is thus, in contrast to the situation in the vernacular,

very weak. This is the reason I think, that buildings during the twentieth

century, which have to such a high degree been of the architectural

type, have encountered so many failures. In the social and cultural contexts

in which such buildings have been erected, the aesthetic ideals

which they represent have often been obscure and their functional

solutions directly unsuitable. The strength of architectural knowledge

thus lies in its generative capacity, while it demonstrates a noticeable

weakness in foreseeability or predictive capacity.10

In vernacular building, the opposite condition tends to apply. As we

saw, it avoids predictive problems largely through relying on known solutions

with familiar outcomes. The internal development, which

nonetheless takes place, is simultaneously characterised by slow and

small steps, so that what is new and its outcome can be tested by degrees

and become known. However, vernacular knowledge has difficulties

in being generative, or in renewing and developing itself in a more

radical sense and often has conservative features. As we saw, it relies on

knowledge that in principle is unconscious of its theoretical base and

thus has difficulties in discovering alternative possibilities and ways of

relating. Knowledge in the vernacular building thus, in direct contrast

to architectural knowledge, has its strength in its predictive capacity

and its weakness in the generative.

It is, however, important to recognise that these lines describe general

conditions. There is a more quiet development of knowledge, like

that in the vernacular, even in architectural building, just as developmental

leaps occur in the vernacular and not only in the architectural.

My intention in this discourse is to point to the general differences

though, not to describe the nuances.

The need of theory for architectural building

Something which architectural knowledge appears to lack is thus better

knowledge, or even a theory, of the relations between spatial orders

and social orders. This may appear to be surprising with regard to Hilliers

statement, that what distinguishes architectural knowledge is precisely

its theoretical approach. Yet theory can imply many things; there

is thus reason to look more closely at what is meant by theory in this

context.

Hillier distinguishes between two types of theory within architecture,

which in addition are closely linked to two elements of what architects

actually do and are expected to be good at, two elements which we

further have already touched on.11 We can with an explanatory simplification

say that architects in design processes primarily do two things,

on the one hand they derive architectural solutions — the generative

phase — and on the other they make predictions about the outcomes of

these solutions — the predictive phase. In practical work a continuous

interaction naturally takes place between these elements. What is important

is to see that architects need theoretical support in both these

elements, but above all that the theory in both cases must be of different

types. In the first case, it is theory that helps architects to see how

the architectural solutions they are working with can be developed, renewed,

put together in another way or be replaced by new ones. Such

theories can be characterised as speculative theories in a positive sense,

that is theories that attempt to see the assumptions in a new way — or

theories of possibility as Hillier puts it.12 Such theories we know

amongst other things from art, where the various manifests of modernism

are good examples.

Yet architects also need theories to help them with the other elements,

namely the predictable outcome of the architectural forms and

solutions which they suggest. To make such predictions, there are only

two ways to take, either to refer to previous examples, or to refer to

some principle.13 Here we can see the strengths of vernacular buildings:

they can always follow the first path and refer to earlier examples within

the building tradition to which they belong. In principle, the outcomes

of the solutions which are used are always known. Within architecture

this is impossible as one generally wants to create exactly that which one

has not seen before. Nevertheless, to a great degree, architectural work

also refers to previous examples, but this is problematic since it is only

possible in relation to details which can be checked and transferred

from one situation to another. Architectural buildings as a whole are

per definition virtually unique, especially if we weigh in the fact that

they are often executed in very varied contexts. This means that as soon

as we come to situations that are a little more complex, it is difficult to

refer to earlier examples since they simply do not exist. What remains is

to refer to a principle, that is to say, to some form of architectural theory.

Traditional architectural theory

Hillier further points to the fact that if we look more closely at what is

generally called architectural theory, we shall see that it predominantly

consists of theories which are intended to be supportive during both

processes described above, but which above all have had success in the

generative phase while having serious problems in the predictive.14

This is because architectural theory such as we know it from Alberti to

Koolhaas has generally been of a speculative type, which as we have

seen can provide support particularly in the generative phase of the

architects’ work. Yet speculative theories cannot be a support in the

predictive phase since we are no longer interested in how something

might be, but want to know how something actually is or will become.

This phase in the work of the architect quite simply needs the support

of theory in a more rigorous sense, namely scientifically based or analytical

theory.15 Such analytical architectural theory is, however, unusual

and has often come to be replaced by speculative theory extended

beyond its limits. We can thus say that architectural knowledge often

acquires a pseudo-epistemic character, which means that it tries to

explain why something is done, but on the whole does this on shaky

grounds.

To exemplify somewhat, we can take Louis Sullivan’s sentence form

follows function as an example of a compressed type of theory that has

had great significance for architectural building during the twentieth

century. This sentence is of a clearly speculative type, as it helps us to

look at architectural form in a special way. This makes it a theory that

can provide very sound support to an architect who is concerned with

generating ideas for suitable forms for an architectural problem; as such

it has also been particularly fruitful. However, it has very little to tell us

when it comes to predicting the outcome of these forms even if this sentence

can beguile us into believing that a function almost automatically

leads to a relevant form, and that this form in turn leads to the desired

function. This, however, would be to stretch the theory beyond its carrying

capacity. Should this occur, its limits in these respects are revealed.

To take an example from the world of artefacts, we can see how the

idea of differentiating between the functions of walls into two systems:

on the one hand bearing and on the other spatially dividing — in the

form of pillared decks and light walls — has been a particularly fruitful

idea that has facilitated freer forms and new opportunities emerging

within the building trade during the twentieth century. Yet to link this

idea with predictability of the outcome, namely that such a separation

in some way will lead to greater flexibility, which is often maintained, is

something that experience has shown to be considerably more problematic.

Such potential flexibility has seldom acquired the significance

for which one had hoped. We face once again a speculative idea, which

in a generative respect has been very successful, but which in a predictive

respect has created both misunderstanding and mistakes.

In a predictive respect, traditional architectural theory has thus generally

been weak and has not managed to provide suitable support.

With the lack of both previous examples to be embedded in and reliable

theory, it is just in the predictive respect that architectural building can

more specifically be said to have failed.

The relation of theoretical knowledge to the architect’s experiential

knowledge

Despite the obvious lack of knowledge in this regard, there is considerable

scepticism, not least among architects, querying whether the

building up of such knowledge and theory development is possible or

even desirable. That such a build-up does not seem to be possible, may

quite simply depend on our seeing so little of a successful theory; that

it is not desired, may depend on it appearing as though the intention

behind such theoretical development would be to replace the architect’s

creative work with researched norms and algorithms. This is,

however, a naive perception and again involves the confusion of different

kinds of knowledge. Scientific knowledge always speaks at the level

of principles or how something relates in general, while the architect’s

knowledge is, to a great degree, experiential knowledge, which identifies

what to do in a specific case. Here we are talking of a third form of

knowledge then, namely discernment or fronesis, that entails knowledge

which does not deal so much with how or why one does something,

but rather when one should do it.16

This means that no kind of knowledge can be replaced by any of the

others, on the contrary, they are remarkably dependent on each other.

Though each individual case is unique, this does not mean that in these

cases knowledge of a more general kind cannot be applied. At the same

time, general knowledge cannot show us how it should be applied in

the individual case. In practice, architects always work at both these levels,

as what they actually do is to apply generally applicable knowledge

in a specific form in the individual case; the relevant question being

how well-founded the general or theoretical knowledge actually is.

Scientific knowledge thus provides support in the form of principles of

knowledge when one’s own experience of earlier examples no longer

suffices to give the requisite answers. Responsibility for how such

knowledge is applied in the individual case rests with the architect and

as always, it is exactly here where his/her skills are revealed.

The development of scientifically based knowledge and theory

building concerning the predictive phase in architectural work is thus,

not least against the background of the many failures of this century, a

necessity to be able to promote the architects’ competence in the future.

Such a development ought in no way to hamper the creative freedom of

the architect, but only to define the field of what is possible, that is, to

give the architect’s creativity precision and strength.

The need for descriptive methods in

architectural research

The methodological field of architectural research is one rich in kinds,

something more or less inherent in the art of the subject. The built

environment plays a fundamental role in many areas of human activity

and thus also becomes part of research within these areas. Still, when

we turn to the specific study of the built environment per se, one

encounters a field surprisingly empty on specific methods of research,

especially if we turn to the architectural artefacts themselves. With my

own thesis-work as a starting point I want, in this second part of my

paper, point to some of the problems this poses. Above all as to point

to the need for more powerful descriptive methods in architectural

research. In this I am once again heavily relying on the first three chapters

of Bill Hilliers ‘Space is the machine’.