Susan Sontag once described a polymath as someone who is interested in everything and nothing else. I'm not a polymath, but I'm interested in all sorts of things. Occasionally, I even take an interest in art and architecture, so I found this opinion piece about modernist architecture highly interesting . . . and on the mark. Forgive the ample excerpt:
Modernism's goal was to create architecture for the people, not princes. It would get rid of furbelows and flourishes, columns and wreaths, ornament and imitation, and build directly for needs – efficient factories, orderly homes, sober churches. "Form follows function," "ornament is crime," "less is more" – these were the slogans of Modernism. The giants of the movement – Le Corbusier, Walter Gropius, Mies van der Rohe – never polled people about their tastes and desires, of course. But it stood to reason that economical Modernist buildings, stripped of ornament, would provide better housing for everyone and, with design that prioritized open spaces and fresh air, would aggregate into better neighborhoods and cities.
And so indeed it appeared for a while. Vast swaths of London and other cities that had survived German bombing were torn down in postwar Britain to create Modernist "housing estates" ("public housing" in American terms) and new city centers. But the alliance with social reformers broke down as it became evident that these Modernist plans were not, overall, creating a more desirable urban environment.
Even as the U.S. followed course, it began to dawn on the public that something was being lost. As the old was swept away and replaced by these buildings and neighborhoods purportedly better suited to our modern lives, we saw virtues in the traditional: its complexity, its acknowledgments of history, even its idiosyncrasy and oddity. The most powerful and effective attack on the Modernist doctrine was launched by Jane Jacobs in her "Death and Life of Great American Cities" in 1961. Her book's relevance and influence has grown steadily in the years since.
Modernism more or less gave up the effort to design economical housing for the masses by the 1970s. Nearly all our suburbs – tracts of Georgian revivals, Cape Cod bungalows, faux adobes – evoke the past rather than the Modernists' future. Some residential Modernist masterpieces emerged, and a few by Wright, Robert Neutra and other leading Modernists survive in Los Angeles. But in the end, it was only a small elite who chose Modernist-designed homes.
Modernism found its greatest acceptance in office buildings, for which it was well suited. But as they sprouted en masse in city centers and new suburbs, they produced dreary and soulless neighborhoods. Modernists struggled with how to build important public buildings too; no form emerged to replace the traditional models of the past, and Classicist, Gothic or Art Deco public buildings are now more admired than their stripped-down counterparts.
I might have to do the American thing and stay up late watching TV tomorrow night: South Park to spoof Hillary.
Just don't ruin it, then pass a law that says I have to eat it: Scientists say they have come up with a way of making pizzas more healthy. Thankfully, it looks like they're just messing with dough, so the grease should remain puddled and unspoiled.
Just when you thought it was safe to go into the outback: A giant cane toad the size of a small dog has been captured in northern Australia. I guess these toadzillas are a real problem. At one point, the Aussies even enlisted Greg Norman to get rid of them: "A Northern Territory MP once said the toads were such a menace that people should attack them with golf clubs to keep them at bay."
See ya, honey! "Scientists in Austria say sharing a bed with someone temporarily reduces men's brain power." I wonder what sharing my bed with a wife and two toddlers does? (Harsh reader, please don't reference this blog.)
