The recent receipt of two review books got me thinking about the past and the future of architecture books. The first one is This is Architecture: Writing on Buildings, a collection of excerpted texts about buildings, spanning from the mid-1800s to the 2010s.
Edited by Stephen Bayley and Robert Bargery, respectively chair and executive director of the UK’s
Royal Fine Art Commission Trust,
This Is Architecture is billed as “different” from the typical “writing on building by architects [that] is limited to exculpatory manifestos or technical sermonizing to a captive congregation of converts.” They describe the nearly 100 excerpted texts as “exceptional examples of writing on buildings by
writers which merit inclusion on the quality of the writing alone” (emphasis in original). So readers find Lewis Mumford, Ada Louise Huxtable, Ian Nairn, Martin Pawley, and others who wrote (well) about architecture for a living, but also Virginia Woolf, Umberto Eco, Jean Baudrillard, Blaise Cendrars, and others far removed from the field of architecture. The aims of the “non-partisan” and “non-didactic” selection are to “enhance popular appreciation of architecture and to celebrate those who are architecture’s eloquent champions.”
Presented in a “running order [that] is essentially random,” each writing is accompanied by a biography of the author in a narrow column; in a few cases the excerpt is so short the bio runs longer on the page, as in the four lines from Louis Kahn’s
Conversations with Students from 1969. As in any book that is basically a survey, a collection of things united by a theme, it’s easiest as a reviewer to focus on organization, presentation, and selection. In order, I find the “essentially random” organization interesting at times (Kahn’s text opposite Rem Koolhaas’s
Delirious New York, for instance) but for the most part insignificant, since many entries span multiple pages, each one serves as a self-contained statement, and such a book can be read in many ways beyond the usual front to back. The presentation is very good, from the glossy papers with occasional images to the inclusion of a ribbon bookmark and the list of sources in the back matter. The selection is fittingly UK-centric, with numerous English critics alongside Nairn and Pawley, for instance, and far too many writings about London and buildings in London. But where are Michael Sorkin and Herbert Muschamp, two US critics who I read for “the thrill of their prose” and “the stimulation to be had from their insights,” qualities the editors find lacking in architectural criticism? Unfortunately, they are missing: a shame, given that
Muschamp’s nearly iconic critique of Frank Gehry’s Guggenheim Bilbao is far more interesting than Jonathan Glancey’s piece excerpted here.
Judging the book based on what it includes, rather than what it omits, and doing so in the context of me thinking about the past and future of architecture books,
This Is Architecture says a few main things to me: writings on buildings are not the sole purview of architects and architecture critics, since architecture is “the most important art because [it is] the one that cannot be ignored,” as the editors assert; architecture is more than aesthetics and style, as evidenced by the texts that focus on other aspects of the built environment; and the most influential writings on architecture have not been exclusively in books, given the numerous texts excerpted from magazines and journals, some of which were later collected in book form (think Martin Filler’s NYRB essays and his
Makers of Modern Architecture series). These three points are hardly groundbreaking — they’re obvious, really — but it’s good to be reminded now and again about such things. While the point of
This Is Architecture is to take pleasure in things written in the past, it inadvertently says some things about the future by focusing on a diversity of voices, approaches to writing about architecture, and media.
Which brings us to the second book, Future Book(s), in which editors Pia Pol and Astrid Vorstermans asked journalists, artists, architects, and others to speculate on the future of the book, specifically “books on art, design and architecture, and cultural-critical publications.”
The occasion of the recently published book is the twentieth anniversary of Valiz, the Amsterdam publisher started by Vorstermans in June 2003 (Pol joined in 2008). The last twenty pages of
Future Book(s) shows the covers of the many books put out by Valiz over those twenty years, some in series (
Antennae,
Vis–à–Vis), many in Dutch and almost as many in English, and all on art, design and architecture, and culture, as expected. I have not read any Valiz books before
Future Book(s) (one of their books,
Binational Urbanism: On the Road to Paradise,
was featured on this blog, but reviewed by an outside contributor), but it’s clear the publisher focuses on the margins, presenting work by artists, practitioners, and academics that explore new territory in their fields. The design of
Future Book(s) accentuates their position; in many ways the book is the antithesis of
This Is Architecture, from the voices included in its pages to the materiality and layout of the same: the glossy
This Is Architecture has a staid, consistent format from piece to piece, while the various chapters of
Future Book(s) were laid out by different graphic designers, limited only by the monochrome palette of the lightweight matte paper.
If This Is Architecture‘s random order makes flipping through the book one of surprising adjacencies, Future Book(s) is the same times ten. Each thematic chapter may be united by a single graphic designer, but each contribution is treated singularly, meaning they are visually unique but often wholly unexpected takes on the subject at hand. A fairly academic text with footnotes but sans illustrations may be followed by a two-page spread that is entirely illustrated content, followed by six pages of artworks, followed by a personal anecdote, and so on. The themes that structure the book (Personal Threads, Histories Unfolding, Digital Realms, Shaping Future Form, etc.) are vague enough that contributions could fit in just about any of them; in fact, the editors admit the dozen themes were came later, meaning the contributors were not beholden to any themes in speculating on future books. Still, the editors give some hints in their introduction: “By definition, books are made for the future. They solidify knowledge while at the same time generating new ideas. They make sure that the now finds a place where it is accessible to the future.”
While the comments of Vorstermans and Pol make it seem that threats to the future of the book are hyperbolic, there is no shortage of contributors imagining distant futures where books take on forms different than the bound books we are familiar with. Books 200 years in the future, as seen in Elisabeth Klement and Pieter Verbeke’s contribution, look like books, but they are made underwater, celebrated at the New York Art Book Fair Under Water 2223, and read by dogs, who have evolved considerably in the ensuing two centuries. In Tricia Treacy’s piece, “What If?,” shortages of paper are addressed through algorithms that “design and print several different texts of interest, overlapping on individual sheets of paper throughout a custom book…” More than one contribution examines how AI will be involved in the making of books, but nobody denies that ChatGPT and other will be involved to some degree. Uniting the texts, as I mentioned, are the nearly dozen designers, whose treatment of the contributions illustrates the importance of graphic design and the inadequate nature of web pages and other digital media by comparison.
My reading through of
This is Architecture and
Future Book(s) coincided with me visiting
The Book in the Age of … exhibition at Harvard GSD’s Loeb Library, which
I reviewed for World-Architects a couple of weeks ago. Curated by Rem Koolhaas, Irma Boom, and Phillip Denny, among other elements the exhibition had (it ended yesterday after six weeks) a large three-part “book” on a table near the entrance to the library. Across the three parts, it moved from books in the age of “the hand” to the age of “press” to the age of “machine.”
One page in the last included this statement relevant to the blog post you’re reading: “The future book is local. It is made from locally produced materials, printed nearby, and delivered to homegrown readership. Hyper-local publishing will lead to a renaissance of book innovation.”
Positioned beneath an image of the cover of
Elements of Architecture, the massive book by Rem Koolhaas and Irma Boom that came out of Koolhaas’s 2014 Venice Architecture Biennale, but not attributed to anyone, the statement (image above) comes across to me as Boom’s, given how she has spoken about the appeal of books from the 1500s, the 1600s, and the 1960s: “periods [that] demonstrate freedom and creativity in the use of materials, typography, sizes of the books, and structure of the texts” (
source). An example from the 1960s is
Art of the Sixties, published by the Wallraf-Richartz Museum with plastic covers, a plexiglass spine, metal screws, color photos pasted on brown paper, and portraits of the artists on transparent foils (
take a look). The 1500s and 1600s follow the invention of the Gutenberg press, while the sixties came after the war and coincided with great social change. Similarly, the digital software and other tools that led to e-ink, ebooks, and other potential book-busting technologies will most likely herald this “renaissance of book innovation.”
The statement from the exhibition also indicates that bookmaking will have to respond to climate change, dwindling resources, and other things that will (continue to) impact our globalized world. Books tend to be produced in one place (unknown for This Is Architecture, Netherlands for Future Book(s)) and then are shipped around the world from there; “hyper-local publishing” would reduce the need for books to be loaded on container ships and sent halfway around the world, using digital technologies and local printers to create variations on a book based on papers, inks, bindings, etc. It would also lead to more variations on subjects, as seen in these two books, considering the UK-centric nature of This Is Architecture and the numerous Dutch voices in Future Book(s). Actually, the UK- and NL-focus of these two books are what made me think of the statement from The Book in the Age of … exhibition. If the future book is hyper-local, not just national or local, dramatic changes in production and distribution should lead to changes in content and design. Who knows, maybe the 2030s will be as exciting as the 1500s, 1600s, and 1960s?
Written by 
