The Architect as Magician 1138326712, 9781138326712

Table of contents :
Cover
Half Title
Series Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
List of Figures
1.1 The Building of the Temple Begun
1.2 A Witch Casting Spells
1.3 Borobudur Temple, Indonesia
1.4 Page from the Sketchbook of Villard de Honnecourt
1.5 Melancholia I: Engraving by Albrecht Dürer
1.6 Interior View of the Pantheon Rotunda, Giovanni Battista Piranesi
1.7 Statue of Hermes Ingenui
2.1 Cave Paintings, Lascaux
2.2 Plan of the Imperial Court at Peking by Jacob van Meurs
2.3 Lucca Cathedral, Labyrinth
2.4 Amulet of Pataikos on Crocodiles, Acquired by Henry Walters, 1929
2.5 Replicas of the Caryatids on the Southern Side of the Erectheum
2.6 Zodiac Signs in Chartres Cathedral
2.7 Hamburg Temple Model
3.1 A Theurgist Performing Rituals to Exercise Divine Powers
3.2 Bronze Statue of Imhotep
3.3 The Fall of Icarus, Oil on Canvas 1636 by Peter Paul Rubens
3.4 A Depiction of Vitruvius Presenting De Architectura to Augustus by Sebastian Le Clerc
3.5 An Image of Zoroaster on Mirrored Etched Glass at the Zoroastrian Fire Temple, Taft, Iran
3.6 Gargoyle Water Spouts at Sacre Coeur, Paris
3.7 Tycho Brahe’s Mural Quadrant
4.1 Clockwork with an Alarm Mechanism by Nathaniel Dominy V at the Winterthur Museum
4.2 Integra Naturae Speculum by Robert Fludd
4.3 Dome of the Capilla de Villaviciosa, Mosque-Cathedral of Córdoba
4.4 Deux ex machina
4.5 Head of an Italian Automaton (The Devil)
4.6 An Automaton Exhibited at CIMA (Centre International de la Mécanique d’Art)
4.7 lllustration of Der Zauberlehrling
5.1 The Promontory Apartments in Chicago
5.2 Model of Sagrada Familia, Barcelona
5.3 Vladimir Tatlin in Front of the Model for the Third International
5.4 “Tatlin at Work”, by El Lissitzki and Alchemist, “Squaring of the Circle”
5.5 Notre-Dame du Haut at Ronchamp Designed by Le Corbusier
5.6 Kimbell Art Museum Fort Worth Galleries
5.7 Night-time View of the Portland Building in Portland, Oregon
6.1 The Brion Tomb and Sanctuary Designed by Carlo Scarpa
6.2 Transitional (Cardboard) Cathedral in Christchurch, New Zealand
6.3 Therme Vals Designed by Peter Zumthor
6.4 Similarities between Mandala Forms and The National Assembly of Bangladesh, Adapted from Image of Mandala of Amitayus, Tibet
6.5 Mass Assemblage of Political Leaders on the Searchlight- illuminated Zeppelin Field in Nuremberg
6.6 Bloch Building, Nelson-Atkins Art Museum Designed by Steven Holl
6.7 Sagrada Família, Barcelona
7.1 Muses and Poets. Sarcophagus Relief, Pio Clementino Museum
7.2 Monotone Windows in Tokyo
7.3 Steven Holl and Kenneth Frampton Discuss a Model in the Stagecraft Exhibition
7.4 Tadao Ando’s Exhibition at the National Art Center, Tokyo
7.5 Turmbau zu Babel Gouache
7.6 Architecture Student Designing
7.7 Detail of Agora Olympic Stadium
Acknowledgments
1 Introduction
2 Origins
3 Foundations
4 Shift
5 Loss
6 Return
7 Conclusion
Index

Citation preview

The Architect as Magician

The Architect as Magician explores the connection between magic and architecture. There is a belief that a greater understanding of the meaning of magic provides insights about architecture and architects’ design processes. Architects influence the effects of nature through the making of their buildings. In an analogous condition, magicians perform rituals in an attempt to influence the forces of nature. This book argues that architects could gain much by incorporating ideas from magic into their design process. The book demonstrates through historical and current examples the important influence magic has had on the practice of architecture. The authors explain how magic helps us understand the way we infuse architecture with meaning and how magic affects and inspires architectural creation. Aimed at architects, students, scholars and researchers, The Architect as Magician helps readers discover the ambiguous and spiritual elements in their design process. Albert C. Smith is a tenured Associate Professor in the Architecture Department at Ryerson University. His PhD from the Georgia Institute of Technology is in Architecture with a subject area of History, Theory, and Criticism and has a main interest in Representation. During the past 30  years he has taught architecture full-time at Ryerson University, the University of Hartford, the University of Utah, University of Minnesota, Georgia Tech, and Texas A&M University. He has successful experience developing and teaching graduate and undergraduate architecture design studio and elective courses. With a rich and diverse background in both practice and teaching, Albert C. Smith has published numerous articles and been the keynote speaker at various international conferences on architecture and representation. He is the author of several books and the newest, entitled Building an Architect’s Character: An Exploration in Traits, is currently in production. He is a registered architect in New York State and his professional experience includes four years in the design section of the office of Kevin Roche.

Kendra Schank Smith held a PhD in History, Theory, and Criticism of Architecture from Georgia Tech. Her focus was Representation, specifically studying drawings and sketches under the direction of Dr. Marco Frascari. She had a professional Master’s degree in Architecture from Virginia Tech and a Bachelor of Arts degree in Art and Education, concentrating on drawing and ceramics. Dr. Smith had over 25 years’ experience at several universities in North America, including the University of Minnesota, University of Buffalo, and the University of Utah. She had practice experience in the architectural office of Kevin Roche John Dinkeloo and Associates in Hamden, Connecticut. She published on topics that pertain to visualization and representation, urbanism, diversity, architectural history, and pedagogy. These publications include two books on architectural sketches and a third book pertaining to the design process. Her fourth and most recent book is currently in production with Routledge and is entitled Building the Architect’s Character; An Exploration in Traits. Researching architectural meaning in cultural artifacts of the built environment, Dr. Smith also wrote on interpreting the construction techniques of the Dong communities in Southwestern China in an article published in the Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians entitled “Time, Space and Construction: Starting with Auspicious Carpentry in the VernacularDong Dwelling.” Dr. Smith was a Professor of Architecture in the Department of Architectural Science at Ryerson University and a member of the Yeates School of Graduate Studies. She served on the national/international boards of the Royal Architectural Institute of Canada, the Association of Collegiate Schools of Architecture, and the Journal of Architectural Education. In 2014, she was elected to the RAIC College of Fellows.

‘In this work, Kendra Schank Smith and Albert Smith provide a compelling critical reflection on the intertwined histories of architecture and magic. In focusing attention on the transformative capacities of each, their work sheds new light on fundamental practices of interpretation. Their exploration discloses persistent yet ambiguous processes capable of sustaining architectural meaning across cultures and epochs.’ —Mike Christenson, AIA, NCARB, Professor and Director of Graduate Studies School of Architecture, University of Minnesota

Routledge Research in Architecture

The Routledge Research in Architecture series provides the reader with the latest scholarship in the field of architecture. The series publishes research from across the globe and covers areas as diverse as architectural history and theory, technology, digital architecture, structures, materials, details, design, monographs of architects, interior design, and much more. By making these studies available to the worldwide academic community, the series aims to promote quality architectural research. Ugly, Useless, Unstable Architectures Phase Spaces and Generative Domains Miguel Paredes Maldonado Worship Sound Spaces Architecture, Acoustics and Anthropology Christine Guillebaud and Catherine Lavandier InterVIEWS Insights and Introspection on Doctoral Research in Architecture Federica Goffi The Multi-Skilled Designer A Cognitive Foundation for Inclusive Architectural Thinking Newton D’souza Ethical Design Intelligence The Virtuous Designer Philippe d’Anjou The Architect as Magician Albert C. Smith and Kendra Schank Smith For more information about this series, please visit: https://www.routledge. com/Routledge-Research-in-Architecture/book-series/RRARCH

The Architect as Magician

Albert C. Smith and Kendra Schank Smith

First published 2020 by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 and by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2020 Taylor & Francis The right of Albert C. Smith and Kendra Schank Smith to be identified as authors of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Smith, Albert C., author. | Smith, Kendra Schank, author. Title: The architect as magician / Albert C. Smith and Kendra Schank Smith. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2020. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2019049310 (print) | LCCN 2019049311 (ebook) | ISBN 9781138326712 (hardback) | ISBN 9780429449697 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Architecture—Methodology. | Architecture and magic. Classification: LCC NA2500 .S544 2020 (print) | LCC NA2500 (ebook) | DDC 720.1—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019049310 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019049311 ISBN: 978-1-138-32671-2 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-44969-7 (ebk) Typeset in Sabon by codeMantra

Contents

List of Figures Acknowledgments

viii x

1

Introduction

1

2

Origins

27

3

Foundations

62

4

Shift

97

5

Loss

120

6

Return

150

7

Conclusion

182

Index

193

Figures

1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5 1.6 1.7 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 2.6 2.7 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4 3.5 3.6 3.7 4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5

The Building of the Temple Begun A Witch Casting Spells Borobudur Temple, Indonesia Page from the Sketchbook of Villard de Honnecourt Melancholia I: Engraving by Albrecht Dürer Interior View of the Pantheon Rotunda, Giovanni Battista Piranesi Statue of Hermes Ingenui Cave Paintings, Lascaux Plan of the Imperial Court at Peking by Jacob van Meurs Lucca Cathedral, Labyrinth Amulet of Pataikos on Crocodiles, Acquired by Henry Walters, 1929 Replicas of the Caryatids on the Southern Side of the Erectheum Zodiac Signs in Chartres Cathedral Hamburg Temple Model A Theurgist Performing Rituals to Exercise Divine Powers Bronze Statue of Imhotep The Fall of Icarus, Oil on Canvas 1636 by Peter Paul Rubens A Depiction of Vitruvius Presenting De Architectura to Augustus by Sebastian Le Clerc An Image of Zoroaster on Mirrored Etched Glass at the Zoroastrian Fire Temple, Taft, Iran Gargoyle Water Spouts at Sacre Coeur, Paris Tycho Brahe’s Mural Quadrant Clockwork with an Alarm Mechanism by Nathaniel Dominy V at the Winterthur Museum Integra Naturae Speculum by Robert Fludd Dome of the Capilla de Villaviciosa, Mosque-Cathedral of Córdoba Deux ex machina Head of an Italian Automaton (The Devil)

1 3 6 12 13 15 22 27 35 37 39 44 48 55 62 67 72 76 82 86 89 97 100 101 104 106

Figures  ix 4.6 4.7 5.1 5.2 5.3 5.4 5.5 5.6 5.7 6.1 6.2 6.3 6.4 6.5 6.6 6.7 7.1 7.2 7.3 7.4 7.5 7.6 7.7

An Automaton Exhibited at CIMA (Centre International de la Mécanique d’Art) lllustration of Der Zauberlehrling The Promontory Apartments in Chicago Model of Sagrada Familia, Barcelona Vladimir Tatlin in Front of the Model for the Third International “Tatlin at Work”, by El Lissitzki and Alchemist, “Squaring of the Circle” Notre-Dame du Haut at Ronchamp Designed by Le Corbusier Kimbell Art Museum Fort Worth Galleries Night-time View of the Portland Building in Portland, Oregon The Brion Tomb and Sanctuary Designed by Carlo Scarpa Transitional (Cardboard) Cathedral in Christchurch, New Zealand Therme Vals Designed by Peter Zumthor Similarities between Mandala Forms and The National Assembly of Bangladesh, Adapted from Image of Mandala of Amitayus, Tibet Mass Assemblage of Political Leaders on the Searchlightilluminated Zeppelin Field in Nuremberg Bloch Building, Nelson-Atkins Art Museum Designed by Steven Holl Sagrada Família, Barcelona Muses and Poets. Sarcophagus Relief, Pio Clementino Museum Monotone Windows in Tokyo Steven Holl and Kenneth Frampton Discuss a Model in the Stagecraft Exhibition Tadao Ando’s Exhibition at the National Art Center, Tokyo Turmbau zu Babel Gouache Architecture Student Designing Detail of Agora Olympic Stadium

109 114 120 122 125 128 134 137 144 154 158 160 164 166 171 173 182 184 185 187 188 189 191

Acknowledgments

For Kendra, my beautiful, wonderful wife who passed away as this book goes to publication. I miss you now and forever. Love always, Al We would like to thank our research assistants: Meng (Lynda) Ye, Danika Chesney, and Annie Farquhar. They edited text, drafted passages, and prepared the manuscript. We would also like to thank Michael G. Smith for reading a draft and providing insightful comments. We appreciate the financial support from Dean Tom Duever of the Faculty of Engineering and Architectural Science at Ryerson University.

1

Introduction

Figure 1.1 T he Building of the Temple Begun, Author: Unknown, PD US expired.

The Architect as Magician proposes that architects can enrich their design processes by examining the traditions of magic. It suggests that many architects have lost essential elements by eliminating the ideas of magic from their architecture. This loss is important because concepts of magic

2 Introduction may provide architects with crucial analogies and metaphors needed to enchant a building’s inhabitants and aid in an understanding of inspiration and creativity. Partially responsible for this loss has been a disenchantment brought about by science and rational thinking that is evident in modernity, leading to a gradual decline in mystery and magic.1 In contrast to disenchantment, since the seventeenth century most philosophers define enchantment as the residual, subordinate “other” to modernity’s scientific, rational, secular and progressive side. 2 Some, such as the historian Jason Josephson-Storm, have questioned the emergence of disenchantment, labeling it as a “myth.” He takes the position that the belief in magic or mysticism did not decline in the West.3 Moreover, many theorists of disenchantment, including the sociologist Max Weber, were well aware of modern magical and occult movements and engaged with them.4 Neither Weber nor the social anthropologist James George Frazer envisioned a rigid divide between rationality and magical thinking, and they did not describe a need for “re-enchantment” to undo disenchantment.5 Josephson-Storm believes we should reinterpret Weber’s idea of disenchantment as referring to the sequestering and professionalization of magic.6 The political theorist Jane Bennett also challenges the disenchantment of modernity thesis put forward by Weber. Her work points to new sources of enchantment in our lives today. She describes a wide range of sources of enchantment, such as in nature, but also in modern technology, advertising, and even bureaucracy. Bennett notes that enchantment offers us a sense of openness to the unusual, the captivating, and the disturbing in everyday life.7 Although historical examples establish that enchantment has been continually evident in architecture, the discussion will propose that architects need to pursue enchantment in their work. Architects need to understand that to enchant means to exert magical influence upon, to bewitch, lay under a spell; also to endow with magical powers or properties; to charm, delight, enrapture.8 For architects, magical enchantment engages concepts of wonder, myth, ritual, the divine and the spiritual, and is demonstrated by the phenomenological experience of architectural space. The art historian Ernst Gombrich wrote about how once a constructed shelter could keep the rain out and offer protection from predators, early humans turned their interest to keeping ghosts at bay and establishing a connection to the heavens.9 All of these threats to humans were understood as forces of nature. It has been the architects throughout history who have attempted to control these forces. In an analogous condition, it is the primary purpose of magicians to use their skills in an attempt to influence natural events. In describing the foundations of societies’ belief in magic, the anthropologist Bronislaw Malinowski wrote: Early man seeks above all to control the course of nature for practical ends, and he does it directly, by rite and spell, compelling wind and

Introduction  3 weather, animals and crops to obey his will. Only much later, finding the limitations of his magical might, does he in fear or hope, in supplication or defiance, appeal to higher beings: that is to demons, ancestor-spirits or gods.10 It is possible to understand the similarities between Malinowski’s view of the evolution of magic and Gombrich’s writing on the beginnings of architecture. While the objectives of magicians and architects can be compared, recently there have been suspicions about connecting the two. This suspicion may be because, in contemporary society, magic is often viewed as the art of illusion primarily used for entertainment. Such magic is demonstrated by a performer, usually dressed in a tuxedo, pulling a rabbit out of a hat.

Figure 1.2 A Witch Casting Spells, Source: Wellcome, CC-BY-4.0.

4 Introduction This study is not envisioned to discuss the sleight-of-hand of the illusionist nor advocate for occult practices, but rather the magical practices that have offered architects the possibility of controlling the natural world through mystical, paranormal or supernatural means. The work considers magic in relation to architecture by considering the critical components of magic such as enchantment, the spiritual, rituals, and imagination, and concludes with concepts of re-enchantment that may guide architects’ design processes and infuse their architecture with greater meaning. A historical definition of magic involves the art of producing the desired result through the use of incantation or various other techniques that presumably assure control of these forces of nature. Magical skills originated as an attempt to make order out of chaos, as early humans attempted to rationalize a confusing and seemingly indefinable universe. This notion, namely that to define the elusive effects of how we, as humans, inhabit the world, remains a large part of our search for meaning. This discussion argues that architecture and magic function in a similar manner. When architecture offers more than mere shelter, we recognize that it, like magic, can also participate in the search for defining and representing the cosmos. In effect, such a search may have emerged from humans’ desire to materialize the immaterial and is not unlike the initial stages of architectural design, or any creative process. The exploration of magic in comparison to architecture is not interested in developing prescribed rules for design or construction but instead will provide ways to learn more about architects’ design processes through a greater understanding of the traditional meaning of magic.

I The discussion of magic in relationship to architecture is approached from two interconnected perspectives: humans’ attempt to control their natural environment through traditional magical practices, and their appeal to divine intervention to affect change. These two areas are of particular interest to this study because they are the primary ways in which architects engage magic. In the past, people have called upon magicians to evoke ritual and superstition in an attempt to control the things they cannot, or to forecast future events. Since “Rites (ritual acts) are eminently effective; they are creative; they do things,” humans who feel unable to control the impacts of nature have traditionally found ways to act rather than accept fate.11 The actions usually resulted in cause and effect (at least some of the time) that resolved a crisis. Thus, “magic is essentially the art of doing things, and magicians have always taken advantage of their know-how, their dexterity, their manual skill.”12 In doing so, magicians attempted to improve the lives of their communities that involved their environment. These activities included affecting ritual to cure diseases, provide sustenance for the community, or

Introduction  5 assist in protecting their dwellings. The anthropologist Sir James Frazer wrote that Natural or Practical Magic, under a category of Sympathetic Magic, follows laws of Similarity or Contact or Contagion.13 With the Law of Similarity, he references the concept that “like produces like, or that an effect resembles its cause.”14 The latter purports “that things which have once been in contact with each other continue to act on each other at a distance after the physical contact has been severed.”15 Frazer differentiates these two concepts by writing that the Law of Similarity may be called Homeopathic (using models or ritual to affect future events in an attempt to control nature) and the Law of Contact or Contagious Magic (the magic that secures objects or talisman thought to be empowered). In other words, the ritual was derived from magical activities that replicated the desired effect. In some cases it worked, and the rite was magically connected through contact to effect a change in the environment. The second type of magic attempts to connect and understand the divine powerscontrolling nature from the heavens. This type of magic came to be known as theurgia. It was believed that the theurgist was able to contact the Divine through various means. Some claim this to be the realm of God or the gods; we will also refer to it as the immeasurable. The Greek philosopher Plotinus conveyed that the goal of theurgy was that humans and all things in the universe should be in sympathy and connected.16 Theurgia was seen as a more distinguished form of magic, and philosophers interested in magic used this term to separate themselves from the goetes or lower class practitioners.17 The classical scholar E.R. Dodds writes: Proclus grandiloquently defines theurgy as, “a power higher than all human wisdom, embracing the blessings of divination, the purifying powers of initiation, and in a word all operations of divine possession,”18 It may be described more simply as magic applied to a religious purpose and resting on a supposed revelation of a religious character. Whereas vulgar magic used names and formula of religious origin to profane ends, theurgy used the procedures of vulgar magic primarily to a religious end.19 In this definition, Divine, like theurgy, may be viewed as pertaining to God or a god, given by or proceeding from God, having the sanction of or inspired by God, godlike, heavenly or celestial.20 We will use the term divine to describe a deity – either God, the gods or a universal spiritual influence – or the actions of God or gods. For the purposes of this discussion, divine references a higher being, a connection to the cosmos or something larger than ourselves – the unexplainable or the immeasurable. The anticipation and then construction of buildings define our environment. This ability to envision the future is precisely the role of architects. In comparison, the magician’s world is “one in which the spectator is supposed

6 Introduction to see the representation of future events or distant scenes; producing wonderful appearances or results, like those commonly attributed to sorcery.”21 Frazer discussed the abilities of magicians to influence the future: But a great step in advance has been taken when a special class of magicians has been instituted; when, in other words, a number of men have been set apart for the express purpose of benefiting the whole community by their skill, whether that skill be directed to the healing of diseases, the forecasting of the future, the regulation of the weather, or any other object of general utility. 22 However, human skills can also be creative, and the actions of craftsmen are known to be effective. From this point of view, the greater part of the human race has had difficulty in distinguishing techniques from rites. Moreover, there is probably not a single activity which artists and craftsmen perform, which is not believed to be within the capacity of the magician. It is because their ends are similar that they are found in natural association and constantly join forces. 23 Thus, it is possible to understand how principles of magic can be applied to architecture, connecting the actions of making with creativity, assisting architects to move toward a defined building.

Figure 1.3 Borobudur Temple, Indonesia, Photo: Anandajoti, CC-BY-SA-3.0.

Introduction  7

II Historians and anthropologists such as Bronislaw Malinowski, Sir James Frazer, and Kurt Seligman have completed studies of magic practices around the world. They have concluded that early cultures practiced magic and that these practices have reoccurring themes. In these cultures, the architecture has been connected to the idea of the archetypal, since universal and transcendent buildings can be considered archetypes.24 When examining architectural archetypes, for example, the concept of the temple, although initially connected with a sacred site, was transformed into a universal archetypal building. Christians interpreted the temple as an archetypal predecessor of the Church, while Jewish religious doctrine saw it as a realization of their concept of invisible things. Examples of Hindu and Buddhist temples also reflect this relationship between a structure and its sacred meaning. The creators of such temples attempted to define their concept of the divine through their designs. Often magical practices have been compared to religion or early forms of science. The magical activities of these early people were bound up in observation of the natural environment that affected their approach to arts and crafts, the organization of hunting, farming or gathering food, and their understanding of their cosmos. The observation of the laws of nature and attempts to govern them may be akin to what was later called science. As Frazer wrote: “Early man seeks above all to control the course of nature for practical ends, and he does it directly, by rite and spell, compelling wind and weather, animals and crops to obey his will.”25 The rituals of magic extended to things such as when to plant, the art of healing, and the building of shelter. For example, Seligman wrote that in Mesopotamia, “Joyous feasts alternate with solemn sacrifices, and everything is accomplished by magical operations that free the soul from fear and stimulate man’s imagination. It was for magical purposes that images were carved, poems were written, music played, and public monuments erected.”26 More specifically, the knowledge of these people influenced the development of tools to aid these processes. 27 Another form of early magic considering the efforts to control nature is animism, spiritual beings, and similar phenomena of their environments.28 A magician’s appeal to a higher being to act on their behalf might be compared to what was later called religion. 29 These practices were “associated with beliefs in supernatural forces, and especially those of magic.”30 These practices included traditional acts and observances that were understood by people as sacred. They were enacted with devotion, and they revolved around specific codes of behavior.31 For example, many cultures worship trees; from the Finnish-Ugrian tribes in Europe, Iroquois in North A merica, to Wanika of Eastern Africa and others find them sacred like the Dong in southeastern China.32 This belief in the spirits that were responsible for aspects of nature is understandable, since trees provided wood for fires,

8 Introduction a food source in fruit and nuts, materials for objects such as spears and canoes and, of course, are, as W.R. Lethaby writes, not only the primordial idea of shelter in the form of protective branches but also construction materials.33 The ancient Egyptians, for example, employed magic in both practical matters and religion, as did people of ancient India, China, Africa, and the Middle East, and every culture in the world. Many of these practices have continued into modern beliefs. For example, various forms of magic were practiced at the time of the Renaissance in Europe. Some forms of magic or magical practices continue today in the manner of folklore, traditional taboos, superstition, and the powerful example of Feng Shui. Even in the West, this may help explain why ground-breaking and ribbon-cutting ceremonies, the laying of a building’s cornerstone and “topping off” rituals are still practiced. The Law of Similarity in Practical Magic may occur in architecture in various ways.34 In a literal interpretation, a memorial that references a person or an event directly connects the monument to that relevant entity as a memory device. Architects’ conceptual notions from early phases in the design process may be conveyed abstractly to the finished building. A building such as the Pantheon more literally represents a vision of the universe. Thus, buildings indeed represent the ideals of a society. In another example, architects’ intent may be conveyed to the visitors or inhabitants who perceive the experience of the building. The Law of Similarity was illustrated in the drawings, models, renderings, and contract documents that represent the future building with various degrees of abstraction. Their similarity to their intended building allows architects to utilize a substitute medium to manipulate. Frazer further explained Contagious Magic when he described a magician; “whatever he does to a material object will affect equally the person with whom the object was once in contact.”35 He was stating how magic can attempt to control through the manipulation of an effigy. However, in the context of architecture, this may be translated to the supposed control offered by the instruments and tools that transform materials in a design process.

III The cultural sociologist Marcel Mauss in his book A General Theory of Magic explained that the powers of Practical Magic could be compared to those existing in the public rituals of religion, and these stem from social activities performed by those he names magicians. Magicians are defined as people who are skilled in or who practice magic or sorcery. It is of interest to our study that the Oxford English Dictionary also defines “magician” as “a person who exercises a power compared to that of magic.”36 It is in this consideration that the writer Gore Vidal states, “Until very recently,

Introduction  9 the artist was a magician who did his magic in public view but kept himself and his effects a matter of mystery.”37 This exploration will consider the architect as a form of magician. However, it is essential to note that our definition of the role of the magician is more in line with that explained by Mauss, who stated that a magician is: A kind of official, vested by society with authority, and it is incumbent upon the society to believe in him. … Quite naturally, he assumes the spirit of his function, the gravity of a magistrate. He is serious about it because he is taken seriously, and he is taken seriously because people have need of him.38 Both architects and magicians are educated in their respective professions and are responsible for how people should live. Their skills are sought to affect the environment. Architects and magicians maintain both private rituals and a public presence. Magicians may work to affect the lives of private individuals and also work on behalf of their society. Architects, by comparison, have moments of privacy when initiating a conceptual design and certainly live a public life serving to build a culture’s structures as they interact with numerous players in the act of construction. Both of these professions are vested by society, since they are trusted to provide a valuable service. Magicians are revered for their wisdom and vision. In like manner, architecture is a serious and respected profession. Architects are trusted with the enormous expenses associated with public buildings as they have responsibilities for shaping cities. They are responsible for protecting the environment as they collaborate with many partners in the architecture, engineering, and construction industry. This comparison between architects and magicians recalls the skills, talents, and education, related by Vitruvius, that give architects status in the community. It is possible to find mention of architects as magicians through history and across cultures. In some societies, magicians were so powerful that they became leaders and kings.39 Although magic may theoretically be morally neutral, and many self-styled practitioners have claimed this to be so, magicians have throughout European history, for example, been feared for their powers to create evil. In some societies, the magician is typically an accepted personage whose help may be sought to accomplish a goal or ward off evil. Architects may hold many of these traits as they become leaders in society. Specifically, at various times through history, artists and architects were bestowed the title of “magician.” This reference may have stemmed from their skills in representing objects from nature as the divino artista – having God or godlike abilities.40 Architects’ ease in employing proportion and numbers appeared magical and possibly evoked the divine, and indeed, their dexterity placed them in a different position from others in a community. Magicians have had “the gift of conjuring up more things than

10 Introduction any ordinary mortals can dream of.”41 Such a gift stresses the qualities of creativity and imaginative prowess that magicians possess and are also traits of artists and architects. The means through which architects achieve their ends often appear impossible to the layperson. Thus, the practice of magic gives magicians, and likewise architects, their loftier social status.42 Architects have been placed in positions of authority because of their ability to invent, foretell, and materialize concepts into reality. There are many examples from history that depict architects as receiving such an elevated status that they were referred to as magicians. Several examples from architectural history describe the special status of certain architects. The Ancient Egyptian Imhotep was the first recorded architect who was also a scribe, astronomer, magician, and was later deified as a healer. Imhotep led the construction of the stepped pyramid for King Zoser, which was the first of the great masonry structures in the world. He introduced stone construction into a context that was most familiar with wood and brick. His work was revolutionary because there was little local precedent on which to rely.43 The King gave Imhotep far-reaching authority because of his work on monuments, which had “extraordinary social and economic impact” in Egyptian society.44 The example of Imhotep reminds us of the power that can come with the talent to conjure form from the unknown. The Ancient Greek and mythological artist and architect Daedalus was referred to in terms of a magician. It was said that he carved sculptures so lifelike that they walked from his studio. This example gives Daedalus the role of a divine creator. As the prototypical architect of the Greek world, Daedalus also serves as an analogy to a primordial idea of architecture, since he designed the labyrinth to contain Pasiphae’s monstrous offspring, the Minotaur. 45 The idea of the Minotaur, a monster, is derived from the Latin monstrum, which means portent (an omen or prodigy) and from monere, which means to warn.46 The monster symbolized a chaotic message from the mythical Greek gods. The act of containing the Minotaur within walls was thus analogous to the establishment of order out of chaos and presented understandable boundaries for habitation. Magic is concerned with understanding nature.47 Moreover, it seeks to control nature through certain acts or techniques. Similarly, architects must be able to read signs found in nature, which allows them to exercise control over the natural world. The Roman architect Vitruvius in his Ten Books on Architecture described the qualities of architects that included reading signs and portending the future. Specifically, Vitruvius discussed various signs that revealed the climatic and environmental conditions of a location, which helped architects predict the suitability of a site for construction.48 Although Vitruvius did not refer to architects as magicians explicitly, he was assigning them qualities that magicians possess. Giorgio Vasari, a biographer of artists and architects of the Renaissance, relayed the mythical and magical qualities assigned to these creative people. Michelangelo’s exceptional skills as a painter, sculptor, and architect were

Introduction  11 revered by the society of the time as genuinely exceptional and akin to that of a magician.49 Other architects were placed in such an elevated position that they were considered in competition with God. This “envy of the gods,” as recorded by Vasari, is written on Giulio Romano’s tomb: “Enraged that a mortal should breathe life into his creatures and that the buildings of a mortal should rival those of heaven, Jupiter snatched this artist from the earth.”50

IV The practice of architecture, in history, had mainly been exclusive and hereditary until the thirteenth century when apprenticeship became the dominant system to educate and train builders, these early architects, in the processes of construction.51 Even now, architects tend to follow the rules, advice, and practices set down by previous architects, at the same time contributing their experience to build up the repertoire of professional knowledge, or “trade secrets.” This knowledge may be similar to the magical practices which are, according to Mauss, “the prerogative of specialists.”52 Both architects and magicians operated and still operate within the rules and regulations of their respective professions.53 Architectural knowledge in Ancient Egypt was passed within family groups, from fathers to sons. Architectural innovation was slow because those responsible for these buildings relied primarily on previously established standards of construction.54 For example, in the time of Ptolemy, before devising a temple a king would consult The Book of Foundation of Temples, written by Imhotep, because it was believed that the book contained plans laid down by the gods themselves.55 Similarly, Greek master craftsmen followed tradition when constructing Greek temples. Currently, knowledge is also passed within the “family” or society of architects. Established architects contribute to the profession by writing their experiences into trade books and treatises, which are used to educate future architects.56 During the Middle Ages, most architects, called master builders, were laymen who rose from mason’s lodges (or guilds) with “acquired trade secrets of geometry and much practical experience in the handling of cut stone and the statics of masonry construction.”57 The design process of the people who may be most closely compared to architects was again based mainly on established traditions and “guarded formulae” of the profession.58 One notable example is the lodge, or “model,” book composed by Villard de Honnecourt, a master mason from Picard who traveled extensively and compiled his observations into a portfolio comprising over 200 drawings. De Honnecourt noted, “in this book, one may find good advice for the great art of masonry and the construction of carpentry, and you will find therein the art of drawing, the elements being such as the discipline of geometry requires and teaches.”59 Such model books served as “an

12 Introduction

Figure 1.4 Page from the Sketchbook of Villard de Honnecourt, PD-Art (PD-oldauto-expired).

encyclopedia of architectural knowledge” and were circulated within the lodge, accessible only to practitioners within the discipline.60 These portfolios may be compared to a “book of spells.” Architects through history have been fascinated by the mystical qualities of numbers, particularly as they pertained to proportion. Mathematics and geomancy were considered magical partially because calculations and numbers could show complex relationships otherwise considered impossible. Numbers, basically abstract symbols, had new meaning and appeared mysterious, like the symbols of astrology, and alchemy. Numbers and also geometric symbols were equated with religion and the human body.61 Numbers and calculation have long been understood as having magical origins, as the irrational beginnings of mathematics were later purported to be the most irrefutable. In the context of architecture, Pythagorean principles were advocated by Vitruvius, based on Classical thought, and were later elaborated by Renaissance architects and authors. These thinkers shared the belief that buildings are a reflection of the cosmos because by imposing mathematics onto matter, humans imitate God’s action of creating form in a world of

Introduction  13

Figure 1.5 Melancholia I: Engraving by Albrecht Dürer, CC-PD-Mark, PD-Art (PD-old-100).

entropy. The Pythagoreans, or “number magicians,” specifically believed that the cube was the source of all number and form.62 The application of cubic principles to the design of buildings thus permeated the architecture with meaning and magical powers, and connected it to the divine and the invisible.63 To the Renaissance philosopher and mathematician Ficino, the architect was a “beneficent demiurge who imposes divine form on sublunary matter.”64 Just as magical practice offered humans the possibility of controlling the natural world through mystical means, architecture provides an understanding of the cosmos through spiritual and ineffable experiences. Although this book will touch on the “spiritual” in relation to the divine and sacred matters, it is through “spiritual,” relating to supernatural beings or

14 Introduction phenomena, that most strongly connects architecture to magic. Moreover, architects embrace the spiritual elements during their design processes to stimulate their imaginations and creativity, and to materialize the immaterial. Several examples from modern architecture illustrate this relationship. With the advent of the Scientific Revolution, architecture progressively distanced itself from the spiritual and mystical, relying more and more on the rational and systematic for reliable and understandable results. The scientific and functional replaced a magical inclination in the way architects design. The turn of the century saw Le Corbusier equating dwelling with a machine for living.65 His tendency toward the artistic, what he called the “spiritual,” is less well known than his beliefs concerning technology; however, it permeated his work in various forms, especially late in his career.66 Le Corbusier believed that architecture could not exist within a technological or mechanical realm on its own. Architecture, like culture itself, needs a balance of both the mechanical and the metaphysical. From this idea, he formed the concept of the mecanique spirituelle, advocating “an art consciousness that transcended the technological dictates of mechanical law.”67 One turning point during the period of modernist architecture was marked by Louis Kahn, who strongly advocated the need for the spiritual in architecture. Kahn rejected technology as the sole driving force of architecture, and instead looked for inspiration in the eternal.68 His architecture engages inhabitants on a spiritual level through the manipulation of intangible qualities (such as light) to evoke all human senses. He trusted his intuition as the most reliable source for design, since it was capable of conjuring up the unknown. For Kahn, architecture was the realization of the immeasurable through the measurable. Kahn stated: “a great building, must begin with the unmeasurable, must go through unmeasurable means when it is being designed, and in the end must be unmeasurable.”69 His writings may be seen as a reaffirmation of the magical qualities of architecture. He asserted that architecture is more than shelter because it represents the cosmos and expresses human existence. He advocated for architects to embrace the transitory and spiritual moments during the design process, which bridges the unknown and materialization.

V In the Gnostic Gospel of Philip, it is written that “Truth does not come into the world naked, but clothed in figures and images.”70 Such figures and images help define and represent humans’ search for meaning in a confusing world. The creation of such representations may be as old as human self-awareness. The drawings on the walls of the caves of Lascaux are evidence of the desire of humans to represent the world around them. Although it may seem logical that these early people wanted to illustrate what they observed, it is also highly likely that the figures reproduced in these caves represented narratives (or trophies) of a successful hunt. These

Introduction  15

Figure 1.6 Interior View of the Pantheon Rotunda, Giovanni Battista Piranesi, CC-PD-Mark.

figures may be interpreted as a type of worship of the animals that sustained their lives or a form of talisman that ensured the continuing supply of animals that supported the survival of the community. Historically, imitation has taken many forms, from the attempts to replicate what is seen (a form of reality) to the Greek or ancient Indian abstractions of an ideal, the medieval religious paintings of a notion of God, to the abstraction of twentieth-century art. Issues pertaining to representation in art, as well as architecture, evaluated the amount of likeness of a drawing, painting, sculpture, or building in comparison to an original. Aesthetic philosophers viewed this representation as a change in dimension or an abstraction.71 Thus, the imitation could be rendered either realistically, symbolically, or abstractly. We return to the theme that architecture, after serving to protect humans from the elements, also provided symbolic meaning that can be viewed in the relationship between a ziggurat and the heavens. These symbolic representations include such buildings as Hindu temples and the abstract replication of the universe of the Pantheon in Rome. As such, a building’s form could reference ideas and emotions through association. Meaningful communication was explored in the late nineteenth century by the pragmatist philosopher Charles Sanders Peirce. He wrote that a sign is an indication in communication where a sign could stand for other objects in some respect or capacity.72

16 Introduction A more contemporary view of representation, specifically in architecture, asks how much likeness is necessary for an understanding of meaning. The artifacts of media (drawings, models, and renderings) used in architectural design processes constitute a part of the representation. This form of design representation utilizes a change in scale or dimension. Representation also pertains to the ideas, abstractions, and meanings formed in the production and interpretation of architecture. Focused primarily on relationships, the relationships between the objects and their meaning, the representations of architecture work across dimensions, forms, and ideas. It asks fundamental questions such as what is architecture, what does it mean, and how do we interpret its meaning? To find meaning in architecture requires an inspection of what we can compare it to or what are the qualities that exist for us. We might ask: what about it is essential, and what comprises its identity?73 The categories of time, space, embodiment, knowing, and performing can create a foundation for examining architectural representation.74 When designing a building, architects may compare it to temporal, spatial, corporeal, epistemological, and performative relationships in order to explore an interpretation of meaning.75 The philosopher Hans-Georg Gadamer wrote, in contrast to a traditional understanding, that: representation does not imply that something merely stands in for something else as if it were a replacement or substitute that enjoys a less authentic, more indirect kind of existence. On the contrary, what is represented is itself present in the only way available to it.76 To continue this theme with a contemporary view, architectural theorist Dalibor Vesely, when describing representation beyond mere imagery, wrote, We may … apprehend that representation is not limited to the physiognomy of buildings and spaces but relates more closely to the situational structure and meaning of architecture. Indeed, it is in this relation that the nature and degree of architectural reality can be established.77 Vesely emphasized the connection between representation and architecture through construction, design process, and a new interpretation of imitation. The problem of representation is closely linked with the process of making (poiēsis) and with creative imitation (mimēsis) … representation more or less coincides with the essential nature of making, and in particular with the making of our world … making as poiēsis is the bringing into being of something that did not previously exist.78 Cognizant of the role of representation in our ability to experience, visualize, and articulate architecture, Vesely ties it to phenomenology.79 Through

Introduction  17 our participation with the world around us, this phenomenal reality is accessible.80 Architects’ means to do this is through a material transformation that expresses the “poetic function of architecture.”81 “The primary purpose of representation, we may conclude, is its mediating role, which can also be described as participatory because it enhances our ability to participate in phenomenal reality.”82 Magic has long made use of representation. Marcel Mauss wrote concerning ritual and concluded that “all ritual is a kind of language; it, therefore, translates ideas.”83 The rituals of architectural space certainly reflect the narratives of human customs and activities. Magic is based on effecting change, which is also a primary function of the architectural design process. These changes are often the representative relationships between scales and materials and are manifest in the transformation of an idea into form. Mauss wrote of magic, “There is an abstract idea that there is a kind of continuity between the agents, the patients, the materials, the spirits and the end-object of a magical rite.”84 Significantly, the Law of Contiguity states that things in contact are and remain the same, and even though the processes of architectural design may change scale or form, they continue a fundamental relationship, and essential to the Law of Similarity is the belief that “like produces like.”85 “The image, the doll, or the drawing is a very schematic representation, a poorly executed ideogram. Any resemblance is purely theoretical or abstract.”86 In other words, abstract representations are “inseparable from ideas of things, natures or properties which are transmissible from one being or object to another.”87 It is understood that magic employs laws of similarity, that there is a connection between similar things. Such connections involve continuity between the patients (as demonstrated in medicine), the materials, and the spirits employed to induce the change.88 In representation, essential properties are “transmissible from one being or object to another.”89 Thus, magic maintains representational qualities.

VI Technological advancements, especially in media, have increasingly removed architects from the craft of the profession. Appearing to be an illusion, prior methods of production may now require little effort and skill to accomplish. Contemporary technology provides architects with, or merely the illusion of, the effective control over nature, in contrast to the perceived, or attempted, control that emerges from understanding. Because of many unforeseen factors, architects’ design processes are continually changing and non-linear. Thus, it is difficult to sustain a primarily linear creative process. This process must constantly reiterate potential solutions and transform concepts through the manipulation of materials. A constant to the process remains in that architects use media in their design process

18 Introduction because they believe and trust in its powers to assist them in making architecture. They use a trusted medium, but they know it is through media manipulation that they can conjure the unknown to help them in a process that is elusive and undefined. Each architect employs a design process that is called upon, whether it comprises digital, drawn, painted, or modeled, that can be trusted to produce no matter how obscure. These processes explore the evolution of the future building. Through the action of doing, architects and their materials get closer to a product, the constructed building. The construction of a building is a comparable process (the cause) to how magicians assist humans to feel that they are working toward an outcome or result. Through substitute media, the project can be conceived and reiterated to find the most appropriate solution. Design media helps form and inform the conceptual process, and thus the project itself. These techniques or methods often bear little resemblance to anything concrete and are vague in their inception. If these “methods” are inconclusive and undefined, it is remarkable to imagine that architects continue to rely on these “unscientific” techniques. It is possible that these vague beginnings have, over time, provided means for stimulation of the imagination or exert a physical manifestation that proves helpful to visualize complex constructs. Thus, in making and doing, architects are continually appealing to the “gods” for assistance, or, in other words, they trust the various media and methods that have previously inspired results and proved successful. The art historians Ernst Kris and Otto Kurz write about the formulation of something from nothing that is the skill of the artist and architect. “The mind’s own power to shape now boldly wakes, as definite from indefinite it makes.”90 Vague beginnings such as sketches do not need to appear “realistic,” they can be abstract. Nevertheless, the more abstract they are, the more it allows them to spark ideas for their author. [T]he “stronger” the belief in the magic function of the image, in the identity of the picture and depicted, the less important is the nature of that image … whenever a high degree of magic power is attributed to an object – whether this be the fetish of primitive men or the miracleworking ritual image of civilized man – its resemblance to nature is rarely of decisive value.91 The trusted medium, no matter how loosely connected to the final construction, functions in an undefinable and elusive manner, but this may be its strength to infuse the process with the less definable. As long as there is a desire to believe in the medium, its likeness to the finished product is of little consequence. Marcel Mauss described magic as being creative, an act of creative invention or inspiration because it is about inventing and doing.92 Sir James Frazer suggested that magical inspiration in creative people indicated that they were “possessed.” Magicians and architects may be possessed to

Introduction  19 various degrees, but most architects would figuratively describe themselves or other architects as possessed in certain ways. To inspire is to breathe or blow into or upon. It also means to stimulate creative activity in an act, to bring about or produce.93 Inspiration thus denotes the ability to make something entirely new or to bring something to life. Inspiration is part of understanding the imagination and involves things that are difficult to explain. Most architects hope to design inspired and inspiring buildings. Architects, when designing environments, must consider how humans can live with nature but also hope to be inspired by the metaphorical gods. Often unsure of where inspiration comes from, they may credit unknown forces that may seem magical. Before scientific studies into the function of the human mind, the occurrence of mysterious images or ideas caused people to question their origins. It may have been human nature to assign responsibility to the Muses, credit divine intervention, or attributed them to magic. Thus, creative inspiration may have been credited to the expanded talents of certain individuals. It is recognized that creativity may be a talent that few possess.94 In most cultures, the ability to seemingly produce life gave artists the status of magicians. In making lifelike machines and sculptures, this “juxtaposition of mechanical and artistic creation,” that created life and motion, was hard for the layperson to understand.95 People compared artists’ god-like abilities to a “knowledge of the secret set of laws in accordance with which God had created man.”96 Architects should embrace the immaterial and spiritual in their design processes, since it is human nature to maintain a spiritual dimension in life and to remove it may be an artificial abstraction. Throughout the process, architects should immerse themselves in the ambiguous and the mythical. In this way, they can come to terms with the unknown, attempt to define the unknown, and begin to understand the difference between comprehending nature and the things we can (or cannot) do to control nature. By removing a sense of the magical or the spiritual from our designs, architects may be removing a tool that has been traditional in architecture. When a traditional and possibly necessary instrument has been eliminated, it is important to reassess and question the new position. Architects must utilize every method or mechanism possible to help achieve beautiful and meaningful architectural constructions that fully serve the inhabitants. They should not automatically produce but rather listen to the things that move the process and be responsive to their senses. They should employ technology to seek the inspiration needed to enhance the lives of their buildings’ inhabitants. Magic in these terms is not necessarily the Practical Magic of doing employed in design iteration, but rather the result of the process. Through the manipulation, spiritual inspiration is often recognized. One way to search for the spiritual is to employ the inspirational qualities of magic as a metaphor.

20 Introduction

VII The Architect as Magician intends to demonstrate, through the use of examples, the important influence magic has had on the historical practice of architecture. In contemporary society, questions might be asked as to why architects need to reconsider the connection between magic and architecture. Have architects lost an essential way of thinking about and defining the cosmos by eliminating the idea of magic from their buildings? We will argue that magic can be a vehicle through which we might gain further inspiration to understand how architects can infuse their buildings with meaning. The second aim is to describe how magic has affected and inspired architectural design processes. This approach will explore how architectural inspiration and imagination can also be evident in the rituals and actions found in the traditions of magic. Such magical rituals have been seen as also closely related to science and religion, and may be helpful to architects in understanding their designs. For example, while determining concepts in the early stages of design, architects rely on the manipulation of media, and it is through this transformation of materials that inspiration emerges. Rather than comparing the lengthy process involved in designing and building a structure to something that can be conjured from “thin air,” this book investigates the aspects of the design process that concern the magic in the making, and magical inspiration. The goal is to present comparisons, not formulas, only learning from magic (not from imitating it) as a way to develop a greater understanding of the architectural process. Developing this understanding can assist architects, educators, and students in accepting the ambiguous and spiritual elements in their design processes so that they may embrace its transitory qualities, revel in its potential and possibilities, and learn to embrace the things they cannot explain. The third aim is to discuss ways to re-enchant contemporary architecture. As a way to rectify a seemingly disenchanted world, the philosophers Joshua Landy and Michael Saler, in their book The Re-Enchantment of the World, propose notions that may re-enchant a contemporary society. These ten concepts appear to be derived from various historical sources reflecting literature related to magic. Landy and Saler describe how contemporary society can promote re-enchantment, and write that if the world is to be re-enchanted it must have: mystery, wonder, order, purpose, significance that is attached to objects and events encountered, be susceptible to redemption, have intelligible locus for the infinite, in re-enchantment there must be a way of carving out within the profane world a set of spaces that possess the allure of the sacred, display miracles that can be viewed as exceptional events that go against the accepted order of things, or exhibit secular epiphanies which create unity with something larger than ourselves.97 The purpose of this work is to explore the traditions of magic as a means to develop a greater understanding of the architects’ role in society. It is not meant to suggest definitive rules for architects to follow. Instead, it will

Introduction  21 use magic to find opportunities to connect seemingly unrelated concepts and make them understandable. The use of analogies and metaphors may give a new dimension to theory. In other words, presenting something that is known will help us understand, or clarify, things that are difficult to understand. For this reason we have chosen a hermeneutical approach. The study of Hermeneutics emerged from the historical interpretation of biblical texts. It is because of its foundation in interpretation that we can use it to make interesting connections between concepts and to speculate concerning their importance in architecture. Through this method, it is hoped that architects will be able to think differently about the processes they employ daily. Hermeneutics is primarily a theory of interpretation. When referring to the etymology of hermeneutics, the philosopher Martin Heidegger wrote that the Greek words for interpreting and interpretation – hermeneuein, hermeneia – can be traced to the god Hermes.98 To apply hermeneutic methodology to architecture, we can look to Heidegger who wrote in his seminal work on language that “Accordingly, the word ‘hermeneutics,’ used in a broader sense, can mean the theory and methodology for every kind of interpretation, including, for example, that of works of the visual arts.”99 Contemporary theorists, such as Robert Mugerauer, expand that definition to encompass human understanding as well.100 Interpretation plays a large part in architectural design, and architects, educators, and theorists of architecture view hermeneutics as a steppingstone to interpretation.101 The Greek god Hermes had many qualities that can assist in a discussion of interpretive and representational thinking because of his role as patron of messengers, inventors, orators, and, most important for this study, magicians. The scholar of Ancient Greece Norman Oliver Brown studied Hermes’ traits that included stealthiness, cunning, and being a trickster, and equated him with magicians.102 Although the Greek goddess Hestia has traditionally been identified as the god of architecture, the ancient interpretations limit her to being the god of domestic buildings and the hearth. Hermes’ traits may be more appropriate for comparison to contemporary architects, and therefore helpful to explore the connection between magic and the design processes of architecture. Thomas Bulfinch describes Hermes’ main characteristics: Mercury [Hermes] was the son of Jupiter and Maia. He presided over commerce, wrestling, and other gymnastic exercises, even over thieving, and everything, in short, which required skill and dexterity. Mercury [Hermes] was the messenger of Jupiter [Zeus] and wore a winged cap and winged shoes. He bore in his hand a rod entwined with two serpents, called the caduceus.103 Traditionally, many of Hermes’ qualities may be seen as similar to those of architects and their design processes. To construct buildings with intention,

22 Introduction

Figure 1.7 Statue of Hermes Ingenui, Photo: Marie-Lan Nguyen, PD-Self-published work.

architects should be able to translate ideas into form, be learned, be able to imbue their buildings with meaning, be able to understand historical references, utilize construction methods, and to be creative regarding a vision of the future. When employing the design process to create environments, architects attempt to define the undefined. To do this, they use interpretation and critical thinking. Every architect must interpret such things as nature’s influence on the building site, the needs of future inhabitants, and what the building represents. Initially, they may not know what the buildings they are designing will look like; but through design they can mark out and demonstrate what the final building will be. Architectural theorists have compared the design process to a theory of hermeneutics.104

Introduction  23 Humankind has always needed to find order out of chaos. We have found a similar need and will use a classical theme to organize The Architect as Magician. Plato believed that the Greeks used: Pythagorean numbers in their magic circles, as numbers were also, according to Pythagoras, older than bodies and hence more powerful. The world is formed according to a mathematical scheme and is harmonized according to proportion. Beauty and order were to these philosophers impossible to achieve without numbers. In the size, weight and intervals of the stars lurk mystic numbers; and around these, the creator builds the cosmos.105 Pythagoras regarded the number seven as the most spiritual of all numbers. In the West, it has long been considered a lucky number. It is also considered sacred, as it is the number of the main stars of the Great Bear and the Lesser Bear, in the Pleiades and Orion. There are seven days of the week and seven planets of antiquity. In architecture, it occurs in the seven-level ziggurat, the “mountain of the earth,” and the magical monument of the Tower of Babel. This same seven-level theme is found in the Koh Ker Temple in Cambodia as well as a great many other structures worldwide. Seven steps often appear in magical philosophy, and seven is the magic number of Athena, goddess of knowledge. This book recognizes the illustrious tradition of the number seven, and will have seven chapters; chapter one is the introduction, there are five central chapters, and chapter seven is the conclusion. This format allows for two outside layers consisting of the Introduction and the Conclusion that frame the center. Chapter 2 introduces the traditions of magic, and Chapter 3 describes the historic relationship architecture has maintained with magic. Chapter 5 discusses our current relationship between architecture and magic, and Chapter 6 explains how the concepts of magic can inspire our current design processes. Chapters 2 and 3 reflect on Chapters 5 and 6, and they all surround Chapter 4. This middle chapter concerns the shift in architects’ relationship to magic.

Notes 1 Joshua Landy and Michael Saler (eds), The Re-Enchantment of the World; Secular Magic in a Rational Age (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2009), 7. 2 Ibid., 3. 3 Jason A. Josephson-Storm, Myth of Disenchantment (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2017), ch. 1. 4 Ibid., 215, 269–270. 5 Ibid., 277–278, 298. 6 Ibid., 299–300.

24 Introduction

Introduction  25

26 Introduction





















2

Origins

Figure 2.1 Cave Paintings, Lascaux, Source: Wellcome, CC-BY-4.0.

The development of magic was a worldwide phenomenon and followed similar patterns of thought across cultures that stemmed from humans’ desire to understand and subsequently influence their environment. From the beginning, magic was interconnected with the construction of dwelling, since both reflect the beliefs of a society. The anthropologist Mircea Eliade wrote, for example, that to build a dwelling is a decision for the individual and also the whole community. “For what is involved is undertaking the creation of the world that one has chosen to inhabit.” The process involved both the house and the village, and the projection of four horizons from a central point (axis-mundi).1 The house, or any dwelling, is the universe that humans construct, “imitating the paradigmatic

28 Origins creation of the gods, the cosmogony.”2 Any theory, or story, of the creation of the universe represents the questions humans have always asked as they try to understand their place in the world and meaning beyond simple shelter and nourishment. Subsequently, they have contemplated why and how they exist and what happens after death. Magic has been continually intertwined with architecture, as it is concerned with how humans inhabit their world. Magic began with prehistoric beliefs. Chapter 2 will explore this beginning through examples from history about how practices of magic were employed. As a survey of world magic, the discussion will connect typical magical beliefs that occur and reoccur in various cultures. Although this chapter will not discuss architectural examples expressly, it is difficult to disconnect dwelling from magicians’ role in addressing the human need for health, sustenance, and shelter. In some cases, it will briefly provide comparisons to a community’s understanding of their environment and consequently their modes of dwelling. It was the middle of a bright warm night in the season we now call summer. The older man with a long white beard hobbled from the cave supported by a cane that many of his clan believed magical. He had always been plagued with a club-foot which had kept him from the hunting parties, so he had developed other skills. It was because of these skills that it was he who had found the hidden crack in the cliff wall. Behind the crack was found the large cave where the clan now lived. His mother thought he saw it because he had time to carefully observe such things as the stone cliff face while others thought the spirits of the old ones must have told him. The clan soon came to revere his words, for they were both observant and wise. The older man had developed other skills as well, for he could make the marks on the cave walls that many of the clan believed controlled their world. Indeed, the older man had spent the night painting images of animals that the clan believed would call forth the real herds. The clan was hungry as the herds had not been seen for many months. While the women could still find berries and roots, the clan needed meat. The older man had faith that the images he created could bring forth that meat, but first, he needed a sign. He sat on a flat rock high on the mountain and began to chant the words he believed could call forth the spirits of the old ones who lived in the heavens. At that moment, a comet flashed across the heavens from east to west. Yes, he thought, the spirits must have seen the animals on the excellent grazing land west of the cave. While the spirits could lie, this sign seemed likely to be true. Slowly pushing himself up by his staff, the older man returned to the cave to inform the hunters that the herds would be found by traveling west. 3 This fictional story of early society may explain how humans developed the practice of magic. For magicians in these early cultures, magic was practical.

Origins  29 It was “regarded as a set of precepts which human beings observe in order to compass their ends.”4 Their faith in the order of the universe and the uniformity of nature was the foundation for the “logic” of magic.5 The necessities of life dominated the activities of these early people, such as attempts to affect healing, to influence the weather, and their abilities to forecast the future. “From the earliest times, man has been engaged in a search for general rules whereby to turn the order of natural phenomena to his own advantage.”6 In our story, the search for a life-sustaining food source and finding a place of shelter may assist in describing an early civilization’s relationship with magic. Magicians were usually extraordinary in some way. Their difference from others in society could have been a flaw, such as a club-foot or blindness. Possibly, as a result of a deformity, they gained a level of wisdom that was viewed as exceptional. Their talents provided them with a special status in society. Comparatively, architects as magicians were able to foretell the future and maintain an expanded (or unusually developed) imagination. These exceptional skills may have extended to expressing the “poetic,” and indeed, their wisdom as magicians provided a unique perspective on the world. Early magicians may have developed acute observational skills that provided insight into the workings and order of natural phenomena. In this way, they were more skilled in the control of nature and used these talents to their advantage. Through their skills, they can comprehend social and political situations and thus can interpret human behavior and natural phenomena. The magician’s skills in controlling natural phenomena were vital to society, just as the later architects, in that they provide shelter from the elements and inspirational spaces for the community. Our early magician held a staff, or a wand, as a symbol of his skills and dexterity. Such an instrument may have been used as a stylus. It could be used to draw a diagram in the sand or viewed as a link to a source of power. For a magician, and also an architect, the wand may demonstrate the skills and dexterity of graphic representation. The ability to adequately illustrate concepts and the future is a skill. It is a skill of both a magician and an architect. The paintings on the cave walls, completed by our magician, may have been images to provoke magic. As image-magic, they may have been talismans for a successful hunt or trophies of past successes. Frazer, when discussing the Law of Similarity, suggests that, because of their likeness to the animals hunted, these paintings could hold a connection to the animals so important to the community.7 Likewise, the spells repeated by our magician may have been an imitative animal call, another example of the Law of Similarity. The incantations recited on the flat rock may have included the bones or the hide of the animal, in this way evoking the Law of Contact as described by Frazer. The Law of Contact infers that things that have been in contact will continue to do so: “things which have once been conjoined must remain ever afterward.” In other words, what is done to one must similarly affect the other.8 Thus using bones or a hide could magically associate the search for the elusive herd with the charm held by

30 Origins the magician. The imitation of the features or functions of the animal represents the result which an early person seeks to attain.9 In other words, to imitate magically connects the source of food with the desired effect. This form of magic played a large part in the measures taken by early hunters or fishermen, “to secure an abundant supply of food,” “the rites consist of an imitation of the effect which the people desire to produce.”10 The acts of mimicking or pantomime were also part of healing, as were the taboos dictating what not to do. Often, these actions were repeated to ensure that the activities of someone at a distance were successful. Our magician used a spell to search for the herd, but he recognized that often these incantations were not wholly trustworthy. It was then human nature for these early magicians to appeal to a higher being for assistance, and thus they evoked the clan’s ancestral spirits. The role of magicians was also to translate the signs they observed. Our magician explained what the comet meant for the clan. Because of the keen observational skills of magicians, the interpretation of the signs would most likely be correct part of the time. It is likely that our magician had observed that the herds moved west in the summer, and using the sign deduced that the clan should move to the west to hunt. The status of the magician directed the clan with helpful information, and they accepted his interpretation of the sign since they had faith in him. Frazer wrote that for the welfare of the “tribe” the magician practiced magic for the benefit of the common good, and he or she was given responsibility and put in a position of influence and repute, with the “honor, wealth, and power such as hardly any other career would offer.”11 The magicians believed in their actions, since they did “not doubt that the same causes will always produce the same effects, that the performance of the proper ceremony, accompanied by the appropriate spell, will inevitably be attended by the desired result.”12 Likewise, architects as magicians are uniquely able to view the future; in reading the signs, they interpret them and build the future. They can visualize what it will look like, and then have the skills to build that vision. Abstractly, they define the actions of people through the act of construction in comparison to a spell. The act of construction is distinctly part of the architectural design process. Architects as magicians require an audience with power, and financial stature to build. Architects can influence the way a community will appear and thus need to associate with influential people, those in a position to make decisions. If a spell is a magical power that controls humans’ actions, then the awe of a cathedral, the power of the state presented in a palace or monument, exhibit the position of architect magicians in society.

I Most cultures have formulated myths about the beginnings of human existence and the formation of their environment. The Roman naturalist Pliny the Elder tells us that the origins of magic began in Persia with Zoroaster.

Origins  31 Although reference to Zoroaster may be the first recorded account of magic, magical practices date from prehistory. There are many mythical explanations for the development of magic. One example emerges from the Trobriand Islanders, relating that magic was first brought to light by the ancestor spirits that dwelled in an underground realm from which all life emerged. Another myth explains how magic was first given to people by the heroic figure of Tudava, who created some of the islands by throwing stones into the sea, and from whom people were given the gift of cultivation. Although not necessarily recorded, the earliest people certainly practiced magical actions. Seligman writes: “From time immemorial, man has felt himself to be confronted with evil supernatural beings, and his weapon against them has been the use of magical rites.”13 The evil, as understood by these humans, were the unexplainable; the evils of the night that brought plagues, for example. Humans have always feared the unknown, especially things they cannot understand. It was logical to assign these fears to spirits or demons, but then the question arose: how could humans control them? Logically, early humans, when observing their surroundings, would begin to understand the cycles of life. They would be able to recognize that plants die in the fall and return in the spring season, for example. Their world reflected these cycles, since their very survival depended upon these events. Malinowski writes that the arts and crafts, and organized hunting and agriculture, could only be established with the “observation of natural process and a firm belief in its regularity.”14 If nature determined their ability to eat, prepare clothes, and shelter, then humans’ relationship with these aspects of nature was complicated. They interpreted nature in ways that could help or harm them. Sir James Frazer expressed this concept well when he wrote: “On the principle of homeopathic magic, inanimate things, as well as plants and animals, may diffuse blessing or bane around them [humans], according to their intrinsic nature and the skill of the wizard to tap or dam, as the case may be, the stream of weal or woe.”15 The relationship with life-sustaining natural elements gave trees, plants, and animals new meaning. “[S]ince animals, plants, and objects move, act, behave, help man or hinder him; they must also be endowed with souls or spirits. Thus animism, the philosophy and the religion of primitive man, has been built up from observations and by inferences, mistaken but comprehensible in a crude untutored mind.”16 However, animism was not the only or even the dominating belief. Early people tried to alter the course of nature using practical means. Only later, “finding the limitations of his magical might, does he in fear or hope, in supplication or defiance, appeal to higher beings; that is, to demons, ancestor-spirits or gods.”17 Thus, these peoples found ways to interact with a dynamic natural world.

II The concept of archetype can be found in a range of subject areas, including behavior, modern psychological theory, and literary analysis, and of

32 Origins course, architecture. An archetype can be defined as a statement, a pattern of behavior, or prototype which other statements, patterns of behavior, and objects copy or emulate. Sir James George Frazer’s book, The Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion, describes how archetypes occur in classic storytelling where examples of characters or ideas sharing similar traits can be found. Further, Frazer defines the archetypical elements of religious belief and scientific thought using examples such as fertility rites, human sacrifice, the dying god, the scapegoat, and other symbols and practices that have influenced twentieth-century culture.18 Another example of the archetype may be found in a work of comparative mythology by Joseph Campbell. In his book entitled The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Campbell suggests that major surviving myths share a fundamental structure. Campbell calls these monomyths.19 The concept of psychological archetypes was central to the work of psychologist Carl Jung. He believed that archetypes are innate, universal prototypes for ideas and may be used to interpret observations. Jung noted that symbols from different cultures are often very similar because they have emerged from archetypes shared by the whole human race. He thought that our past was the basis of the human psyche, directing and influencing present behavior. It may be instructive to look to the work of English architect and architectural historian W.R. Lethaby to understand archetype. In the preface to his book, Architectural Mysticism, and Myth, Lethaby stated that he proposed “to set out, from an architect’s point of view, the basis of certain ideas common in the architecture of many lands and religions, the purposes behind structure and form which may be called the esoteric principles of architecture.”20 His book references the mythology, philology, ethnology, anthropology, archaeology, iconography, semiotics, and art history of many ancient cultures. Humans have always asked about the origins of the Earth. This question may be the reason why Lethaby begins his book with the archetypal myth of the cosmic symbolism of the universe as a tree. The unknown universe could then only be explained in terms of its known parts; the earth, shut in by the night sky, must have been thought of as a living creature, a tree, a tent, a building; and these each form the world system to peoples now living. … A tree with full overarching branches must have formed an apt and satisfactory explanation for legends of a world tree are so widely distributed.21 Describing a tree as growing at the center of the world, “its branches of crystal formed the sky and drooped to the sea,” explained the limits of the sky. 22 “The fundamental conception of these myths … represents the universe as an enormous tree. Its trunk transfixes the earth, projecting upwards into heaven and below into the abyss, the heavens revolve on this axis, and may be reached by climbing the stem.”23 Continuing an architectural

Origins  33 analogy, Lethaby wrote: “Severianus, Bishop of Gabala in Syria, compares the world to a house of which the earth is the ground floor, the lower sky (the firmament) the ceiling, and the over-sky the roof.”24 “‘Thus,’ says Cosmas, ‘were all the phenomena of the universe represented in the Tabernacle.’”25 The world compared to a tree presents a form of representation, since the ideas taken from one were transferred to the other. This magical transference meant that certain buildings obtained this symbolic purpose, and thus the formation of a House of God, specifically a temple. 26 An extension of this myth was the importance of mountains. Mountains were the closest to the heavens and therefore considered the residence of the gods. For example, Mount Meru is a cosmic mountain. In the Hindu religion, it is home to the god Brahma, who is believed to be the father of the human race and all the demi-gods, and the belief is that the sun, moon, and stars all revolve around Mount Meru. Folklore recites that it rose up from the ground piercing the heavens, and it is the “navel of the universe.”27 Because of their proximity to the heavens, mountains were places for receiving revelations. Muhammed is said to have received this first revelation on Mount Hira. 28 A common myth describes that humans were “created on the mountain top, where it is in contact with heaven, and all earthly vegetation springs from the seeds of the central tree.”29 Thus height was sacred, as humans desired to get as high as possible to be closer to the heavens (the gods). Lethaby wrote, “Chaldea was regarded as the centre of the world, and far beyond the Tigris reposed a mountain of the east with united the heavens and the earth.”30 The actual mountain was soon replaced by the constructed mountain, represented in the ziggurat and pyramid but also stupas and pagodas. “The ziggurat was actually a miniature world; its structure represented the ‘mountain of the earth.’”31 This sacred belief occurred in various forms and places across the world. A few examples include the Pyramids in Egypt, the Ziggurats in Mayan Mexico, central and South America (Chichen Itza, Mexico; Teotihuacan, Mexico); the Ziggurat of Ur, Iraq; Angkor Wat/Prang Temple, Cambodia; Tomb of King Kashta, Nubia and Nubian Pyramids, Sudan; Tomb of the General, Ji’an, China; Qin Shi Mausoleum, Xi’an, China; Chavin de Huantar Temple Complex, Peru; Srirangam, Tamil Nadu, India; and Borobudur, Indonesia. These structures most often were either tombs for the remains of the god-like ruler or temples as places for the gods to reside. In many cases, the temple was restricted to the priests who were the only humans allowed to enter. Because of their position in society, they were the ones able to commune with the gods. The structures were in the form of pagodas or stupas, as they reached for the heavens and served as dwelling places for the gods. 32 Thus Pagoda structures in Asia were the link between heaven and earth. The architect magicians who built the ziggurats, pagodas, or stupas were employing them symbolically, or as a charm, to magically connect humans with their gods. In most cultures, building tall (imitating a mountain) was

34 Origins a symbol of reaching for the heavens. Approaching heaven meant that the building was sacred or in some ways evoked the spirits so that the buildings magically enhanced the lives of the inhabitants of the building or the community.33 Thus architects were designing buildings with the mechanisms to define the sacred. An axis-mundi is defined as the center of the world and is often a sacred place. In contemporary society, it may be represented by the center of a community or a tall steeple, for example. As a place that provides a community with identity, a center is a place from which to measure. It can be a place of origin for a traveler but also the beginning metaphorically for the human race. In a religious context, the axis-mundi has been accepted as the most sacred temple, as in the case of Solomon’s Temple. An axis-mundi may be the connection between heaven and earth and where the four compass directions meet. Eliade writes, “Every Microcosm, every inhabited region, has a Centre; that is to say, a place that is sacred above all.”34 An axis-mundi as a hub, or a place of origin, has been comforting for humans to call a “home.” Each culture has a symbolic center. For example, the word China means “The Middle Kingdom,” where the country is itself the center of the world. This sense of a center or belonging has given people special status and a grounding. An axis-mundi can be seen as a microcosm of order because it is known, understood, and emerges from being settled – in the various meanings of the word. Thus, as the “navel of the earth,” the axis-mundi, in the form of a tall building, may have magically represented the heart, identity, and became a place holder for the community or society. Magicians, as creators of this axis-mundi, are purposefully evoking a magical symbol to connect a population to a society or culture. Likewise, in Ancient Greece, Pythagoras viewed the Fire of Hestia as the center of the Earth. Related to health, it also symbolized the stability of the Earth.35 Similarly, Feng Shui indicates the individual home as a world center. A circle or a square often bound the place that is the “center of the Earth.” If a square, then the cardinal directions are emphasized. “The ‘four crossroads’ of old English customs were probably of so much consequence because such a situation established a sympathetic magic with the universe.”36 Observing the importance of cardinal directions, early cultures used methods of construction as charms to design (hoping to assure) excellent and beautiful buildings. The significance of the direction of buildings is much broader than is understood by Orientation, a looking to the rising sun; for the pyramids, and the Babylonian and Mexican stepped temples, or rather alters, are square, and the Buddhist topes circular in a square enclosure; with no sanctuary to define direction. When, however, there is a major axis, it agrees (with some exceptions in Egypt) with the sun’s path through the heavens.37

Origins  35

Figure 2.2 Plan of the Imperial Court at Peking by Jacob van Meurs, CC-PD-Mark.

By using the magical principles of the cardinal directions, these cultures were ensuring auspicious buildings. On a practical level, designing an entrance into the south façade of a building ensured that the north winds would not blow into the building. The sun and the stars, the eastern face of a building has referenced the rising of the sun. Such was symbolic in many cultures as rebirth or spiritual. Buddhist buildings are related to the heavens, a circle within a square, with the primary entrance oriented to the east.38 Lethaby wrote that, universally, the laying out of the lines of a building to “square with the world is a part of ceremonial” acts. He explicitly points out that there was a “magical” influence in this tradition.39 Concerning this magic of correspondence, Lethaby states: “for, as the foundations of heaven and earth are firm, ‘not to be moved forever,’ so the building imitating them would share their stability.”40 In Western Asia (again to quote from Perrot) “the inhabitants of Mesopotamia were much impressed by celestial phenomena, and believed so firmly in the influence of the stars over human destiny, that they were sure to establish some connection between those heavenly bodies and the arrangement of their edifices. … Mesopotamian buildings were always rectangular and often square on plan, and it is sometimes the angles and sometimes the centres of each face that are directed to the four cardinal points.”41

36 Origins From the north/south axis of the Forbidden City in Beijing to the Roman castrum city plans, “This four square-ness was a talismanic assurance of permanence and stability. The thought that, as the heavens were stable upon the earth, so any building four square with them would be immovable, seems, as we have seen, a natural analogy.”42 The magical conveyance of meaning to practice was carried through to the ancient world. The historical architectural archetypes discussed by Lethaby are magic numbers and labyrinths. He wrote that seven is written in the sky; the number pertains to the planets, days of the week, stages of human life, holes in the head, architectural wonders of the world, holy cities in India, stages of a ziggurat, and the liberal arts. An example of the importance of number, and specifically the number seven, occurs in India. The ancient Hindus understood the universe to be formed by seven concentric envelopes around the central earth-mountain Meru, on which the waters of the celestial Ganges fell out of heaven, and circling it seven times in its descent, distributed its waters in four great streams to the whole earth.43 The mathematical magic square is represented in a numerical diagram. It is formed of a square of numbers so that the addition of each column (in any direction) will equal the same number, “with the remaining numbers rotating in an implied circle with respect to the center.”44 The numbers inscribed in squares, “when they are ‘squared’ at their four corners,” are the universal symbol for Christian God the creator, but also the Tao, Allah, and the Brahman Absolute.45 It is possible to understand how this combination of numbers in their sums could be viewed as magical. Mathematics creates abstract relationships. The Islamic magic squares could also be represented in words, and these words could spell gods or planets, and thus “they were used as talismans to bring good fortune.”46 Magic squares came to be known in the Western world via their documentation in the Islamic texts of the tenth century and were most probably brought into Europe by Jewish traders. Magic squares were familiar to the Muslims, Hebrews, and Hindus; however, the most ancient documented magic square came from China.47 As a talisman, the magic square was worn by people to encourage good luck. As protection from evil, they could be aligned with the cardinal directions, and in this manner the square became a shield connecting the ground and the heavens by “becoming ‘square with the world.’”48 Numbers then evoked divination and were used magically to assist in giving meaning to buildings. Geomancy is the act of projecting lines onto the earth from the cosmos above through marking the ground and encircling. This talismanic

Origins  37 ­

Figure 2.3 Lucca Cathedral, Labyrinth, Photo: Myrabella, CC-BY-SA-3.0CC-PD.

38 Origins Having killed his nephew Talos out of professional jealousy, Daedalus was forced to leave Athens. He went to Crete, where he served in the court of King Minos at Knossos. Among his incredible achievements, there was the construction of a “daidalon,” a life-like wooden cow covered with leather in which Queen Pasiphae hid to seduce a magnificent bull (a gift from Poseidon to the Minoan King) with which she had fallen in love. Daedalus’ success with this task confirmed, once again, his skill as a demiurge. When, after seducing the bull, the queen gave birth to the Minotaur, Daedalus was asked to design a structure to contain this monster.52 From this story, the labyrinth has been associated with boundaries and definitions. Daedalus, the architect, used his construction skills to bound the actions of the Minotaur and thus conceived of the defining aspects of architecture. Lethaby adds another level of meaning to this myth. He relates King Minos with the notion of justice and describes the labyrinth as an ancient symbol related to “wholeness,” or the cosmic order. A conventional interpretation of the labyrinth is that it is a barrier between the experienced world and the underworld, where Daedalus provided assistance to cross to the underworld.

III The civilization of Ancient Egypt began around 3150 BC and lasted for about 6000 years. It developed along the Nile River in what is now the country of Egypt. Heavily influenced by prehistorical practices, the civilization of Ancient Egypt was highly instrumental in the development of Western thought. A critical element that was pervasive throughout this early civilization was a belief in magic. In Ancient Egypt, Heka was both the name of a god of magic and the general term for magic. It means the actions or activities of the Ka, their concept of the vital force or soul through which magic functioned. The mythology of the time relates that magic heka was a part of the powers the creator used to make the world.53 This magic could be used practically, and all humans and gods could, to some degree, use such forces. However, many rules developed about the use of such forces. For this reason, the word Heka also came to mean the practice of magical rituals offering exceptional power and influence. As an extension, the construction of buildings involved rituals, especially in the case of structures such as pyramids, tombs, and temples. It is known that the first recorded architect, Imhotep (priest and magician), “devised the stepped pyramid for the tomb of his patron King Zoser by piling up several mastabas (the mastaba was the common burial platform of early Egypt) into a monumental tower that rose 195 feet above the West bank of the Nile at the necropolis of Saqqara.”54 It is accepted that all religions have a magical aspect, and indeed this was true for the Ancient Egyptians who believed that all of creation was in some way animated.55 For them, creation came into being and was sustained through magic. For the Egyptians, magic was older and more powerful

Origins  39 than even their gods. Egyptians, priests, were the primary practitioners of magic and were seen as caretakers of a secret knowledge offered by the gods to humans. Through this knowledge, these priest-magicians were seen as able to control fate. It was said that such individuals could animate figurines and perform other miracles of nature. Their work was demonstrated in the pharaoh’s tombs, with the models of buildings, animals, and servants that he would require in an afterlife. For the Ancient Egyptians, magic was also closely connected to writing. Typically, practitioners obtained knowledge of magic by studying ancient texts. The priests held in highest regard were those who could read the ancient texts of magic. It is of interest that for the Ancient Egyptians, scribes were considered rank-and-file magicians. They were considered magicians because their writing was seen as a form of magic, and scribes learned to summon magic by merely saying or writing magic words. Written spells were highly valued, privately collected, and handed down within families. Magic was used to protect or cast curses. A spell typically included certain words to be spoken and a written description of the actions desired. These spells could be spoken to trigger the power of a figurine, a potion, or an amulet.

Figure 2.4 A mulet of Pataikos on Crocodiles, Acquired by Henry Walters, 1929, Source: The Walter Museum of Art, Baltimore, MD, CC-PD-Mark and CC-BY-SA-3.0.

40 Origins Magical devices such as amulets and wands were often used in the practice of Egyptian magic. Amulets were used by both living and dead for magical protection, and many were found in Egyptian tombs. Amulets could be created in the form of deities, objects, animals, or the like and were thought to hold special powers. They could be made of stone, wood, or clay because it was believed that certain materials held differing powers. Magic writing could serve as an amulet, and many examples of this were found in tombs. Hieroglyphics appearing on the walls of buildings held magical purposes. Egyptian magicians often carried metal wands representing the snake goddess. Later, magicians adapted curved decorated ivory wands. Such wands allowed the user to call upon and control powerful forces. Architects’ tools also had magical qualities. The historian Spiro Kostof writes: “the square has been recovered in numbers from excavated tombs, and triangles of various kinds are known to us from small-scale hematite or gold reproductions which used to be buried as amulets in the foundations of Eighteenth Dynasty temples.”56 With its similar culture and proximity to Egypt, magic was ubiquitous in the ancient civilization of Mesopotamia and was closely intertwined with the everyday lives of its people. The Mesopotamian cosmology holds the belief that the universe consists of heaven, earth, and netherworld, which are bonded together by the force of nature. Magic is not a separate discipline but an essential part of this cosmic order.57 It is difficult to make a clear distinction between magic and religion, and other disciplines such as science and medicine in ancient Mesopotamia.58 The pervasiveness of magic is comparable to that of Ancient Egypt, discussed previously in this chapter.59 The interpretation or divination of omens is a large part of the Mesopotamian magic practice. The Mesopotamians believed in omens to foreshadow events, and the power of magic rituals to prevent the occurrence of adverse events. Omens were also believed to be the only method of communication between gods and humans. Thousands of omens and their countermeasures had been recorded into handbooks used by practitioners of magic. The ritual of extispicy was also practiced for divination. It involved the dissection of animals and an examination of their intestines to read signs and messages.60 Astrology was the essential area of Mesopotamian divination. The ancient civilization was also the first to develop astronomy based on accurate scientific observation and calculation. The observation of planetary movements and large-scale natural phenomena again foreshadowed events and revealed divine messages.61 Since the celestial signs relate exclusively to the king and queen, the interpretation of these signs was solely the responsibility of the court magician. For the king, astrology assisted with prediction and decision-making, especially to indicate auspicious days for significant events. Throughout the history of ancient China, magic practices in its various forms, such as divination and shamanism, had also been well documented. In early times before the introduction of Buddhism, practitioners of magic had worked either as court officials for the state authority or as independent

Origins  41 entities.62 They engaged in a wide range of activities such as the interpretation of dreams and occurrences, the preservation of calendars or the official almanac, and rituals and sacrifices. Most of these activities were concerned with observing and understanding the patterns of nature to predict and control future events.63 Practitioners working for the state had generally been given high social status. In the Warring States period, for example, prophesiers were well respected and desired by political leaders who trusted in their divine knowledge to bring victory upon their states.64 Three fundamental beliefs guided magic and mantic practice in China.65 The influence of these ideas can still be felt in present-day society. First, the idea of auspicious time states that certain activities are best conducted at certain times. The date of any religious or secular activity, such as marriage, sacrifice, or the initiation of construction, has to be determined by consulting the calendar.66 In the Dong tribe, for example, an auspicious time has to be chosen to cut down the wood used for the construction of sacred buildings.67 The Chinese calendar was believed to reflect sacred power because it ensures “social order on earth to be parallel to that of Heaven.”68 The calendar was believed by the layman to possess magical power and is an integral part of their daily lives. The making of the official calendar was exclusively conducted by the state, specifically by the divination officials.69 Second, the Chinese cosmology provides a system of essential concepts such as qi (cosmic current), yin yang (two opposing but complementary states of the cosmic current), and the five primary elements.70 The concept of Feng Shui is an application of these beliefs to architecture and city planning in China. In Feng Shui, the central purpose is to maintain qi, which is the “flow of cosmic energy,” making up the universe, by conforming to a set of principles that obey the laws of nature.71 Such an act conjures magical power and brings prosperity and fortune to the household. Again, relating to the Law of Similarity, Feng Shui demonstrates the role of architecture to “mimic the macrocosm and microcosm” so that humans can “maintain harmony between the cosmos and their world.”72 Third, the belief in magic numbers is also present in Chinese history. Numbers and the manipulation of them can be used to predict and interpret events. Mathematical formulae can be used to calculate fate.73 The planning of towns and cities had been driven by geomancy since very early history.74 Buildings incorporate magic numbers in their plans and elevations to conform to the cosmic order in the hopes of establishing a connection between the Earth and heaven.75 In traditional Hinduism, the Atharva Veda is the most important scripture on the practice of magic. The Veda records a wide range of mantras used for various purposes, such as longevity, blessings from deities, to cure diseases, and protection from evils, poison, and enemies.76 The Veda is mostly read solely by Vedic Brahmins, who are the highest class of intellectuals, to ensure that only those “pure in heart” practice magic to maintain the legitimacy of the magical act.77 The magician obtains their power through the help of benign spirits governing the laws of nature.78 Maya

42 Origins is a significant concept in Indian religion that is closely related to magical practices. The term evolved over a long history, but its meaning has remained the same: it is “an incomprehensible wisdom and power enabling its possessor or being able itself, to create, devise, contrive, effect or do something.”79 Maya usually involves the creation of a physical form through means that are incomprehensible to the laymen, which demonstrates the creator’s paranormal power. Maya played a vital role in the construction of temples and other sacred constructions.

IV It is well known that the Ancient Greeks used magic. In Ancient Greece, there were many myths about the use of magic potions and curses. For example, the Greek god Hermes was not only a messenger from the gods but also the god of magic. In another example, Homer, in The Odyssey, Book X, writes of the use of magic in an encounter between Odysseus and the Titan Circe. Circe used a magic wand against Odysseus and his men. Odysseus was able to defend himself against Circe’s magic by using a magical herb he obtained from the god Hermes. Later in the story, Circes magically transformed herself into a beautiful temptress to seduce Odysseus. She then used her magic wand to turn Odysseus’ men into swine. There were significant differences between how the Egyptians viewed magic in contrast to the Greek view. The Egyptians believed that they could become deities and part of the magical divine world. For the Egyptians, the divine appeared to be ingrained in their existence. They viewed the world of humans and gods as much the same. Human activity continued in the afterlife and gods, represented by the Pharaoh, actually lived in human society. For the Egyptians, magical practices were seen as only clarifying what already existed. The Greeks held that there was a separation between humans and gods. They created a very different relationship between humans and the magically infused divine world. While the Greeks believed that the relationship between humans and the gods took many forms, it never followed the Egyptian belief in the possibility of humans becoming divine.80 While the Greeks believed that there existed a divine spark within the human soul, still, the gods were different and separate from humans. The Ancient Greeks believed that communion with the gods was possible.81 They viewed magic as a method for communication and communion with the divine world through which the soul could be cleansed. Magic may then be seen as connected and borrowed from religion, adopting religious ceremonies and divine names, and the two are sometimes difficult to clearly distinguish. Magic is often differentiated from religion in that it is manipulative rather than supplicatory of the deities; this is not a hard-and-fast rule, though, and with many ritual acts it is difficult to tell whether they are coercive or supplicatory. Greek historian Robert Parker

Origins  43 writes, “magic differs from religion as weeds differ from flowers, merely by negative social evaluation”; magic was often seen as consisting of practices that range from silly superstition to the wicked and dangerous.82 It is in this distinction between direct control on the one hand and propitiation of superior powers on the other that Sir James Frazer sees the difference between religion and magic. Magic is based on humankind’s confidence that they can dominate nature directly if only they know the laws which govern it magically. It is in this way that magic is akin to science. There are several good examples of how the Ancient Greeks made this connection. It is known that magical powers were attributed to the famous mathematician and philosopher Pythagoras.83 The traditions concerning Pythagoras are somewhat complicated because the numbers of Vitae that do survive are often contradictory in their interpretation of the figure of Pythagoras.84 E.R. Dodds, in his 1951 book The Greeks and the Irrational, argued that Empedocles was a combination of poet, magus, teacher, and scientist.85 The work of both Pythagoras and Empedocles would likely have appeared magical to an uneducated population. In Ancient Greece, many private individuals believed in the powers of magic, such as farmers who were always dependent on the weather. Even though the use of magic was pervasive in Ancient Greece, there remained an official wariness over its use. We know that the Greek authorities believed that magic was an activity capable of results, but they grew concerned about those who practiced harmful magic. So it was established that those who practiced harmful magic could be punished by civic action. This may be the reason why magic in the classical world was held in low esteem and condemned by speakers and writers.86 Likewise, we find certain intellectuals realizing that the power of magic could be abused. For example, Plato believed that those who sold spells and curse tablets should be punished. Epicurean and Stoic philosophers also believed that magic should be eliminated. This mistrust of magic, religion, and a separation of humans from the divine world created a need to develop new methods of understanding the world. It is thus understandable that the Ancient Greeks created the foundations for philosophy. For Greek architecture, temples became places of magic and religion, where sacrifice, divination, and taboos were common occurrences. Vitruvius wrote of the human-formed columns on the Erechtheum in Athens. He viewed the Caryatids as magical narratives and representations of meaning. The columns, through their connection to the law of similarity, will always be magically tied to the story of the Caryatid women. The ancient Romans maintained a vast empire. Although Ancient Greece’s relationship to magic was more influential, similar to their architecture, the role of magic in Roman society was a reflection of the entire Mediterranean region. Within Roman society, magicians, soothsayers, and augurs were prevalent. The Romans used magic for a wide variety of reasons. They could call upon magic to perform an act of murder,

44 Origins

Figure 2.5 Replicas of the Caryatids on the Southern Side of the Erectheum, Photo: Peulle, CC-BY-SA-4.0.

influence love, for legal protection, to influence sporting events and gambling, for health purposes, supernatural protection, and to predict the future. Magical objects could be purchased in many places, and shops sold spells, amulets, potions, and books of spells. Similar to the Ancient Greeks, the Roman government viewed the selling of magical paraphernalia with concern. They believed that magic could be dangerous, and that many who practiced it were frauds. There was a worry that magic could be used against the Emperor and the government. There were many unsuccessful attempts by the government to forbid the use and even the knowledge of magic. During this time, many laws were enacted that forbade and threatened by punishment those practicing and using magic. However, archeologists have found many books of spells and amulets, revealing that such laws failed and that the use of magic remained widespread within Roman society. Romans who practiced magic were generally divided into two categories, known as theurgical and goetic. Of the two, the theurgical was generally more respected and usually associated with rituals practiced by priest-like figures.87 The classical scholar E.R. Dodds writes: “Proclus grandiloquently defines theurgy as, ‘a power higher than all human wisdom, embracing the blessings of divination, the purifying powers of initiation, and in a word all operations of divine possession.’88 It may be described more

Origins  45 simply as magic applied to a religious purpose and resting on a supposed revelation of a religious character. Whereas vulgar magic used names and formula of religious origin to profane ends, theurgy used the procedures of vulgar magic primarily to a religious end.”89 It was believed that the theurgist was able to contact the divine through various means. The Greek philosopher Plotinus tells us the goal of theurgy was that humans and all things in the universe should be in sympathy and connected.90 Theurgia was seen as a distinguished form of magic, and philosophers interested in magic used this term to separate themselves from the goetic or lower class practitioners. Historians relate many examples of the theurgy type of Roman magician. Simon Magus was a gnostic magician who purportedly stated that he was an incarnation of God. He was attributed with all types of mysterious powers, including the ability to fly. Apollonius of Tyana was a Greek philosopher, neo-Pythagorean, ascetic teacher, and magician. His teachings and legend influenced both scientific thought and occultism for centuries after his death. Finally, some considered Jesus Christ to be a magician. Scholars such as Morton Smith, in his book Jesus the Magician, have argued that Jesus showed many of the attributes of being a magician.91 This position is debatable but does point to interesting similarities between magic and the foundations of Christianity. Roman augurs, closely related to priests, were known to have the power to “read the future and the divine’s will in such events as the flight of birds and the course of thunderstorms.”92 Augurs could be seen as closely related to magicians in this sense for their ability to observe natural phenomena and translate it into a useful instrument for people within Roman society. Augurs had a principal ruling role in Roman society and Roman politics where their powers, such as their abilities to foretell the future, were used for the benefit of the Roman public.93 The role of the Roman augur was thus similar to the role of the Roman architect, as both needed to read nature, predict future events, and translate into something that would benefit society.

V People in the Middle Ages (approximately the fifth to the fifteenth century) in Europe lived primarily in an agrarian society. Such a society meant that the general population (outside of the clergy and academic institutions) were relatively uneducated. Typically, the population lived in villages under nobles who charged rent and required their labor. In the late Middle Ages, the population was reduced due to famine, the Black Death, and warring kingdoms. In this environment, the pagan customs of the uneducated lower classes were predominant.94 Many of these peasants were ignorant

46 Origins of Christianity, and the Western Schism occurring in the Catholic Church further distanced the population from religion.95 Since skepticism was accepted, this also meant that magic was widely practiced.96 Kurt Seligman reveals the prevalence of magic across the entire population during this period; he wrote: “Everyone believed in the power of magic, the scholars as well as the worldly rulers and the clergy.”97 The medievalist and religious scholar Richard Kieckhefer supports the notion that magic was prevalent across all walks of life. He writes: Instead of finding a single, readily identifiable class of magicians we find various types of people involved in diverse magical activities; monks, parish priests, physicians, surgeon-barbers, midwives, folk healers [most likely builders] and diviners with no formal training, and even ordinary women and men who, without claiming special knowledge or competence, used whatever magic they happened to know.98 The lower classes also practiced magic in their daily lives, as it was “important to the running of a household,” where the inhabitants often spoke some religious words followed by an activity. With magic occurring under many names and practiced very differently in each community, some may have felt that they were performing “charms,” and not necessarily magic.99 A range of professionals performed the practice of magic, but it was also commonly practiced by laypeople. Keith Thomas supports this position and writes: “Usually he (the magician) followed some artisan’s occupation – as a miller perhaps, or a shoemaker, or cordwainer, and practiced sorcery only as a sideline,” and each town often had more than one “charmer.”100 Partially because of the security the Catholic Church felt in the Middle Ages, “blessers” (charmers), the people whose position it was to bless buildings, crops, or conduct magical ceremonial activities, were not prosecuted extensively. Religious leaders relatively accepted them, and these ceremonies were often performed by clergy.101 Similar actions were often performed by clergy who recited biblical passages and conducted complex procedures, which could be interpreted as akin to magic.102 Thomas describes the role of these “blessers” as related to the blessing of houses, and states: “Periodically, therefore the holy water carrier went around the parish so that the pious could sprinkle their homes, their fields, and their domestic animals.”103 Since it was important for the population to protect their houses from harm, he makes a connection to buildings (and possibly architects) when he writes that the “inhabitants ran to church for holy water to sprinkle in their houses, to drive away the evil spirits in the air, and to protect their property against lightning… or to tie a charm to the building one wished to protect.”104 Thunder and lightning were less controllable than other things in their lives. They feared lightning because it could set their houses on fire. In a community with limited resources, this was a significant threat. The summoning of magical powers could help the people feel

Origins  47 as though they had control over an incomprehensible event. The storms were most often perceived as either gifts or malevolent signs from God or the gods. It is then logical to surmise that master craftsmen and builders, the architects of the time, were also immersed in this culture and practiced some forms of magic. In the period after the fall of the Roman Empire the Catholic Church retained some control over the population, and the Church felt some assurance that it was solidly in control of a belief system. Because of this, magic could be practiced without retribution. Seligman writes, “[F]rom this feeling of safety was born a relative tolerance, replacing the cruelty of old, a fact which is demonstrated by the dealing of the authorities with the popular superstitions and customs of the past.”105 The merging of magic with religious elements “had a soothing effect upon those who feared heavenly punishment of their unorthodox operations.”106 The movement of Arabs into Spain around AD 700 threatened the comfortable position the Church held over the general population. The Church felt vulnerable because the Arab invaders regularly performed types of magic and “used charms, wax figures and incantations” in these practices.107 The late Middle Ages witnessed a new interest in the emergence of science. Richard Kieckhefer suggests that a belief in magic represented a condition where religion and science were interconnected.108 At this time, the two positions were not necessarily opposing. Kieckhefer writes: Magic is an area where popular culture meets with learned culture. Popular notions of magic got taken up and interpreted by “intellectuals” – a term here used for those with philosophical or logical education – and their ideas about magic, demons, and kindred topics were, in turn, spread throughout the land by preachers.109 The practical and empirical qualities of natural magic were viewed as similar to science. In contrast, the use of divine power to compel demons to assist with self-serving aims, demonstrated in demonic magic, was comparable to religion.110 So the intellectuals in developing a new paradigm of science categorized their natural environment into “geomancy, hydromancy, aeromancy, and pyromancy under the heading of magic – earth, water, air, and fire.”111 These studies included astronomy, astrology, medicine, physics, alchemy, and chemistry. Although today astronomy and astrology are considered separate disciplines, in the Middle Ages they were sufficiently alike to be referred to interchangeably.112 Astrology was viewed as “applied astronomy”, since it was “the practice of making judgments about the stars as they were charted by astronomers.”113 The scientists, such as Francis Bacon, of the late Middle Ages, were not averse to using both astronomy and astrology. They understood the relationships and motions of the stars as revealing truths contained in the cosmos. The principles were based on “belief in elemental

48 Origins qualities in the seven planets and the twelve signs, and their connection with terrestrial elements.”114 This belief was universal in the Middle Ages, but its employment differed between theory and practice. For the philosopher, logician, and Franciscan tertiary, Ramon Lull (1242–1316), astrology was a scientific theory of “astral correspondences.”115 These early thinkers viewed astrology through the magical concepts of likeness or sympathy; what they saw in the heavens was understood to affect events on Earth.116 For example, Guido Bonatti (died 1300), the Italian mathematician, astrologist, and astronomer, declared the value of knowledge from the stars as he was a “promoter of astrology, of the talismanic arts, and of all wisdom that derives from the stars.”117 In practice, astrology was used to predict events and interpret celestial cycles as agents of divine causation, and this is why it is closely connected to magic.

Figure 2.6 Zodiac Signs in Chartres Cathedral, Photo: Martin Greslou, CC-BYSA-3.0.

Origins  49 Many of the intellectuals of the time were educated in astrology. Everyone accepted its use, including the Church.118 There is evidence of the use of zodiac signs in Church imagery, which can be explicitly found in such buildings as Chartres Cathedral. The interest in astrology was widespread, and especially prevalent among the rulers who used it to decide the appropriate dates for important events, such as the best time to mount a military attack. Keith Thomas writes, By comparing the relationship between the tendencies indicated by the client’s horoscope with what was known about the future movement of the heavens, certain times could be identified as more propitious than others for embarking upon any potentially risky undertaking, such as going on a journey or taking a wife.119 It can be inferred that significant building projects would fall under this category. Bronislaw Malinowski supports this notion as he writes: “for instance, that the foundation of churches should be laid at the propitious hour, calculated by a capable astrologer.”120 The builders (architects) of the period would undoubtedly have been aware of this practice, and they most likely believed in astrology or were active participants in its use. Thomas gives another interesting architectural example. Although living close to the Renaissance period, Francis Bernard “long entertained the hypothesis that horoscopes could be cast of cities, just as for men.”121 For those cities whose founding dates were unknown, he speculated that a horoscope could be reconstructed from specific events. As an example, by ascertaining the astrological circumstances of London fires, from the burning of London Bridge in 1212 onwards, Bernard had convinced himself that he had hit upon London’s horoscope, and to his great delight was now frequently able to predict the exact weeks in which future London fires could be expected.122

VI Although the period between 1400 and 1650 in Europe (now entitled the Renaissance) saw significant changes in attitudes that indicated a “modern era,” it was also a continuation of beliefs from the Middle Ages. This period enjoyed relatively stable political systems, the economic prosperity that allowed for leisure time and the arts, the invention of the printing press to disseminate knowledge, and an empirically observational (scientific) understanding of nature. The Renaissance in Europe also held firmly to traditions of the Middle Ages’ religious piety of the Catholic Church and beliefs in astrology, alchemy, and theurgy. This Renaissance period may be described as a time when religion, magic, and science were accepted harmoniously.123 Keith Thomas writes that during the Renaissance, there were

50 Origins three main types of magic: “natural magic, concerned to exploit the occult properties of the elemental world; celestial magic, involving the influence of the stars; [and] ceremonial magic, an appeal for aid to spiritual beings.”124 In general, most people were extremely religious, treatises were written on magic, and it was commonly practiced, and the educated populace discovered what they thought was proof or “science” (of astronomy and astrology, geometry, mathematics, and proportion) to explain the phenomena of nature. The Renaissance Humanists looked to Ancient Egypt, Greece, and Rome, and discovered many texts that became the basis for their thinking, and the belief in magic was part of this. “Magic was an important part of Greek and Roman culture, and Renaissance thinkers wanted to emulate the classical world in every way.”125 They also translated historical writings that they adapted to a new context. Many of the intellectuals’ writings at the time spanned various disciplines and also integrated concepts of religion, magic, and science. Deeply religious, they also explored mysticism and forms of pseudo-science. A few of these writers were Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, Henry Cornelius Agrippa, Marsilio Ficino, Albrecht Dürer, Francesco Giorgi, John Dee, Daniele Barbaro, and Leon Battista Alberti. The telescope was invented in the early 1600s, but humans had been speculating about the heavens for years. At the end of the Middle Ages, Ramon Lull (1232–1316) provided a theory of astrology. He placed nine dignities, equated with nine letters, on revolving concentric wheels to achieve numerous combinations. By doing this, he assigned “letter notions so exalted and abstract names, attributes, or dignities of God.” Since he ascribed God’s greatness to all levels, he placed these traits on the celestial sphere with the angels, and the geometric forms of the circle, square, and triangle emerged.126 The geometry was symbolic, as the circle represented the heavens, the triangle the Divine, and the square symbolized the four elements. These forms were then related to a Cabala (Jewish mystical tradition) that mixed Christian, Islamic, and Jewish philosophy. Lullism was a precursor of the scientific method and influenced thinking for centuries to come.127 During the Renaissance, astronomy and astrology were indistinguishable from one another. In discovering the movements of the stars, Renaissance thinkers believed that they had unlocked a universal truth found in nature. Based on the ancient learning started with the Babylonians and subsequently developed by the Greeks, Romans, and Arab astrologers of the Middle Ages, if “astronomy is the study of the movements of the heavenly bodies, then astrology is the study of the effects of those movements.”128 The celestial world moved in regular patterns, and it was believed that the secrets they held could explain principles of the universe and also affect behavior on Earth. These patterns reflected an anthropic principle of an

Origins  51 affinity between the cosmos and life forms. The belief that all things are connected meant that altering one affected the others; this was a fundamental principle of magic. Many during the Renaissance thought of the world in mechanical terms. They entwined religion and the secular, finding a relationship between the heavens and the Earth. “As above, so below” was a way to express that what is in the universe above (God, the stars, and the planets) is reflected in the activities on Earth.129 It is possible to view, then, a belief in God, the universe, and how the movements in the heavens could predict events. Connecting this belief to magic, Marsilio Ficino wrote about how to attract influences of the planets using incantation and talismans.130 With the microcosm theory, changes in the heavens reflected moral and social events on Earth.131 The sympathetic relationship could reveal that celestial influences were excellent, and the planets were linked to angelic magic and Christian angels. “The elemental world of the divine, angelic, and stellar influences percolate down into the terrestrial world and govern the movements and combinations of the elements,” all of which are good.132 The Renaissance writer Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa’s third book was “about ceremonial magic or magic directed towards the supercelestial world of angelic spirits, beyond which is the One opifex or the creator himself.”133 Part of this thinking was learning to call upon the Names of God, and with it, “white magic guided by the good and angelic forces which ensured protection from evil spirits.”134 When watching the movements of celestial bodies, the Renaissance observers found mathematic and harmonic relationships that were then viewed in religious terms. The “Musica Universalis” or Harmony of the Spheres provided divine proportions for artists. Keith Thomas writes, “The mystical conviction that numbers contained the key to all mysteries had fostered the revival of mathematics. Astrological inquiries had brought new precision to the observation of the heavenly bodies, the calculation of their movements, and the measurement of time.”135 The Renaissance thinkers were looking at the world broadly and trying to find what might be important; they were searching for clues of what lay beyond reality. “They were as poetic about numbers as about words” and found that words or names could be translated numerically for poetic or spiritual content, and thus assigned numbers to letters or names to unveil an inner truth.136 In giving numbers meaning, they were looking for patterns concerning beauty. Part of this belief stemmed from a renewed interest in the ancient mathematician Pythagoras, who believed that mathematics was a source of “eternal and exact truth.”137 “Uncanny in its capacity to re-express the regularities of nature, mathematics seemed otherworldly in its origin.”138 The Renaissance thinkers’ interpretation of Pythagoras’ “all is number” could be seen in several ways. It appears that they viewed everything in nature as composed of numbers – music, the human body, etc. Such a view worked with the Ancient Greeks’ interest in geometry, and thus, “the Pythagoreans

52 Origins believed that numbers were integral to all physical entities.”139 It is also believed that the Renaissance may have viewed numbers as representing things; even when describing abstract things, these numbers could provide insight.140 These “things” may also be seen as ratios or proportions, and interpretation of harmonic balance, such as “the pleasing symmetry of figurative numbers,” especially evidenced in architecture.141 They looked back to Pythagoras’ discovery that music is governed by mathematical principles, as demonstrated by the length of a string equated with a tone.142 Thus, the Renaissance intellectuals viewed harmony of the world, music, planets’ movement, and other things in nature, as the creator God’s vision of an ordered world. The thinking that connected mathematics, numerology, geometry, and divine proportion was widespread, and it was intertwined with interpretations of the rediscovered treatise by Vitruvius. It is logical to understand how God’s creation of humans and proportion could bring many Renaissance writers to the Ten Books of Architecture. A propagator of Renaissance Neoplatonism, with its hermetic and magical core, Giovanni Pico della Mirandola wrote: “By number, a way may be had for the investigation and understanding of everything possible to be known.”143 The occult author Henry Cornelius Agrippa wrote the treatise de Occulta Philosophia that was divided into three books. Book One was about natural magic, and Book Two concerned celestial magic (which he called mathematical magic because its operations depended on numbers).144 Book Three revealed white magic as good with its angelic forces that protected humans from evil spirits.145 Thus, interestingly, “Agrippa concentrate[d] on number, on proportion in man and the universe using the Vitruvian figures.”146 The Renaissance Cabalist Friar also considered a magus, Francesco Giorgi believed in a “Neoplatonism in which was included the whole tradition of Pythagoro-Platonic numerology, of the world and human harmony, even of Vitruvian theory of architecture, which, for Giorgi, had a religious significance connected with the Temple of Solomon.”147 Frances Yates writes in her book The Occult Philosophy in the Elizabethan Age that Giorgi: accepts the connections between angelic hierarchies and planetary spheres, and rises up happily through the stars to the angels, hearing all the way those harmonies on each level of the creation imparted by the Creator to his universe, founded on number and numerical laws of proportion. The secret of Giorgi’s universe was number, for it was built, so he believed, by its Architect as a perfectly proportioned Temple, in accordance with unalterable laws of cosmic geometry.148 Although not necessarily architects, the thinkers of the Renaissance took a multidisciplinary approach. For example, Yates explains that “Giorgi’s

Origins  53 architectural symbolism was related to his knowledge of Italian architectural theory. As we have seen, he applied the theory of architectural harmony to the plan for a Franciscan church in Venice.”149 Another author and mathematician who connected mathematics, geometry, and proportion to architecture was John Dee. Frances Yates writes, Dee’s mathematics was applied in the practical sphere through his teaching and advice to artisans, navigators, technicians. He also had a grasp of abstract mathematical theory, particularly the theory of proportion, as taught in the work on architecture by the Roman architect, Vitruvius. The preface [to Billingsley’s translation of Euclid] contains many quotations from Vitruvius; Dee follows Vitruvius on architecture as the queen of the sciences and the one to which all other mathematical disciplines are related.150 Dee was interested in magic and most likely practiced some magical acts. Yates writes in her book The Rosicrucian Enlightenment that Dee was falsely accused of being a conjurer. “One reason is that students of mathematics tend to be accused of magic because an aura of magic has always been attached to such studies and the wonderful works which a knowledge of mathematics and mechanics can produce seem magical to the ignorant.”151 If Dee was using his mathematical skill to construct mechanical marvels, then he could be considered a magician.152

VII To conclude, it would be useful to consider the connection of magic with an example of architecture. Architecture has long reflected the social cosmos with which magic has typically been deeply infused. For this reason, the idea of magic can be connected to many types of architecture, and of these, the concept of the temple may offer us one of the best examples. The concept of the temple, although initially connected with a sacred site, seems to have been transformed into a universal archetypical architecture. Christians interpreted the temple as an archetypical predecessor of the Church, while the Jews saw it as a realization of their concept of invisible things itself. “It is, therefore, not an ill-founded notion but a sign of spiritual continuity that the reformers of Christianity and Judaism both set out to build ‘temples’ to God in search for a wider spiritual concept.”153 The creators of the temple attempted to define their concept of the divine through their designs. Many variations on this theme may be found throughout history and worldwide, and in a variety of forms. It is through the architects’ attempt to define concepts of the divine through the building that we may connect the creation of the temple to the magical act of thaumaturgy. Thaumaturgy from the Ancient Greek word thaûma, meaning “miracle” or “marvel” and érgon, meaning “work,” is the capability of a magician

54 Origins or a saint to work magic or miracles. Isaac Bonewits defined thaumaturgy as “the use of magic for nonreligious purposes; the art and science of ‘wonder-working;’ using magic to change things in the physical world.”154 A practitioner of thaumaturgy is a thaumaturge, a thaumaturgist. Thaumaturgy is a type of magic that attempts to connect and understand the divine powers controlling nature from the heavens. Such magic came to be known as Theurgia. It was believed that the theurgist was able to contact the divine through various means. The Greek philosopher Plotinus tells us that the goal of theurgy was that humans and all things in the universe should be in sympathy and connected. Theurgia was seen as a distinguished form of magic, and philosophers interested in magic used this term to separate themselves from the goetes or lower-class practitioners. A historical definition of magic involves the art of producing a desired effect or result through the use of incantation or various other techniques that presumably assure humans’ control of the forces of nature. Magical skills originated out of seemingly confused circumstances, an attempt to make order out of chaos, as early humans attempted to rationalize a confusing and seemingly undefinable universe. This notion – that to define the elusive effects of how we (as humans) inhabit the world – remains a large part of our search for meaning. This section argues that architecture and magic function in a similar way. The idea of the temple as a magical template of the divine may offer us insight into our search for creating order out of our chaotic world. The Temple of Jerusalem offers an excellent example of how this occurs. The Temple of Jerusalem serves to demonstrate humankind’s historical relationship with the thinking mechanism used to define the prevailing concept of the divine. A temple is considered a measured sacred space. It is an edifice, perceived as the residing place of or dedicated to the worship of a deity.155 It is the definition of a temple as the measured space of a divine ideal that makes it essential to the study of architecture as a form of magic. Several essential architectural elements typically define (mark out the measure of) a temple. These elements include the enclosure, the gate, the altar, the tower, a column standing within the enclosure, and, finally, the cella, which is the most sacred space contained within the sanctuary, or temple proper, where the image of the deity (ideal) or his symbol is kept. These are the significant elements that are discussed in the accounts of the Temple of Jerusalem.156 The Temple of Jerusalem was the center of ancient Israeli worship and national identity. The first temple was constructed during the reign of King David’s son Solomon. It was completed in 957 BC as an abode for the Ark and as a place of assembly for the people. The building was oblong and consisted of three rooms: the porch, the main room, and the Holy of Holies in which the Ark rested. It contained five altars: one at the entrance of the Holy of Holies, two within the building, one before the porch, and a large altar in the courtyard.157 Solomon’s Temple was rebuilt by Zerubbabel

Origins  55

Figure 2.7 Hamburg Temple Model, Photo: An-d, CC-BY-SA-3.0.

and later by Herod. Herod’s temple was situated asymmetrically within a square court, which was, in turn, subdivided into four smaller square and unroofed sections. It is written that the area of the entire temple comprised 500 square cubits. The exact location of Herod’s temple on the mount is unknown, although it is recorded that the Romans destroyed the temple in AD 70.158 This holy building is derived architecturally from a divine pattern revealing the shape of the tabernacle and the temple. “God’s guidance is implied in David’s rejection (II Samuel 7:5, 13; I, Chronicles 17:12) and the choice of his son Solomon as a builder.”159 God was the original or ideal considered for or deserving of imitation. The first temple serves as a reflection of the supposed order of the ideal. As Rudolf Wittkower writes in Architectural Principles in the Age of Humanism, “This order was believed to have been originally inspired directly by God when he charged Solomon to build the Temple, and architects, therefore, attempted to re-create this perfect archetype from which all other orders were thought to be derived.”160 The second temple was generally considered to be based on the first. There were three successive buildings built as the Temple of Jerusalem, all of which have had significant influence over Judaism and Christianity since their construction and demolition. The first temple was built by King Solomon, commonly known as Solomon’s Temple, the second temple was a restoration done by Zerubbabel, and King Herod built the third temple.161 Jewish temple design is often characterized as longitudinal in plan, where the main axis guides visitors from the entrance to the House of the Holy of

56 Origins Holies.162 Later such characteristics were adopted by the design of Christian churches further west during the Romanesque and Renaissance periods in Europe.163 Within the Bible, it is noted that Solomon’s Temple varied from the ones built after, with the two latter not containing a House of the Holy of Holies.164 Solomon’s Temple was divided into three parts: the porch, the House proper, and the House of the Holy of Holies.165 Solomon’s Temple took seven years to complete.166 “The idea of God inspiring the design was suggested for the Tabernacle as well as for the Temple and is also reflected in the medieval Christian legend.”167 The Santa Maria Maggiore by Pope Liberius “represents a paradox, a building located on a particular site but also a place which was increasingly regarded as a universal and transcending symbol.”168 The synagogue became increasingly associated with the Temple image. “Both Temple and synagogue were increasingly regarded as holy buildings, and the Temple image, therefore, could be adapted to the concept of the synagogue as a sacred structure, also becoming the prototype for the church.”169 The Temple of Jerusalem also survives as a representation of the ideal in the Christian mind. For example, Jesus is said to have described the destruction and rebuilding of the temple in reference to his death and resurrection. Medieval Christians described the temple as setting the ideal standard for their soaring sanctuaries.170 Justinian is said to have cried on entering the restored Santa Sophia, “Solomon, I have outdone you.”171 Charlemagne supposedly built his churches and palaces following Solomon’s example. The Sistine Chapel is, in a medieval way, modeled explicitly on the Temple of Jerusalem by repeating its dimensions.172 “A story is related of the founding of Santa Maria Maggiore by Pope Liberius, who drew the ground plan of the future church on the site that was indicated to him during the miraculous snowfall on the night of 4–5 August 352.”173 His vision of the temple represented a paradox, a building located on a particular site but also a place which was increasingly regarded as a universal and transcendent. During the Middle Ages, a new architecture was constructed in the style of Jerusalem’s temples, which became a prototype for many related building types around the world in the centuries following their destruction. An early Christian biblical manuscript entitled the Ashburnham Pentateuch from Paris contains images reminiscent of the temple prototype.174 The document depicted an arched building containing a shrine holding the Ten Commandments, where the two columns on each side of the building and the crowning arch were identical to images depicting the original temples.175 In the Hebrew Pentateuch from the tenth century, now located in Leningrad, “The lampstead with seven branches and a shrine, probably the Ark of the Covenant, are depicted together with ritual implements.”176 This we now believe to be an image of the tabernacle, where within this document is closely associated with the Temple.177 The importance of this relationship is depicting how the image of the temple is no longer associated

Origins  57 with a single site but can now be seen as a universal symbol for many forms of religious architecture around the world.178 Universal and transcendent architecture may be considered archetypes.179 Here it is essential to consider the psychology of Carl Jung, who believed that archetypes were the patterns of thought and the imagery that emerges from the collective unconscious of humankind. For example, Jung describes the deep emotional appeal of the mandala, the square surrounded by, or including, a circle. Numerous buildings, such as the plan of a church in the form of a basilica, have been based on such a form.180 Earlier, we noted that these elements might be connected to magic. The meaning of this story is that temples are an archetypical example of architecture. They were connected through the idea of theurgy to magic. Those who created the magic were magicians. There are numerous examples of past and present designers who exemplify similar abilities. Several notable architects have proven capable of creating built form through their knowledge and skill that appear to be instruments of magic. These architects include Imhotep, Daedalus, and Vitruvius, as well as countless others throughout Mesopotamia, China, India, and Africa, and through the Middle Ages and Renaissance periods. Each of these designers took their unique backgrounds of varying architectural knowledge, and, through the utilization of magical practices, they were capable of harmonizing their schemes into something greater than just physical buildings.

Notes 1 Mircea Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion (Toronto, Canada: A Harvest Book Harcourt Inc., 2001), 52. 2 Ibid., 51, 57. 3 This story was created as a fictional account of the roots of the use of magic. 4 James George Frazer, The Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion (New York: Collier Books, 1922), 13. 5 Ibid., 56. 6 Ibid., 57. 7 Ibid., 15. 8 Ibid., 43. 9 Ibid., 19. 10 Ibid., 19–20. 11 Ibid., 52–53. 12 Ibid, 56. 13 Kurt Seligman, Magic, Supernaturalism, and Religion (Evanston: Northwestern University, 1948), 1. 14 Bronislaw Malinowski, Magic, Science and Religion (Redditch, UK: Read Books, 2013), 17–18. 15 Frazer, 37. 16 Malinowski, 18. 17 Ibid., 19. 18 Frazer, the theme throughout the book. 19 Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces (San Francisco, CA: New World Library; 3rd edn 2008). This is a theme throughout the book.

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Figure 3.1 A Theurgist Performing Rituals to Exercise Divine Powers, Source: Wellcome Images CC-BY-4.0.

Foundations  63 If architects utilize magical practices in their work, then they are considered by definition to be magicians. This chapter will discuss historical examples of the connection between architecture and magic in seven sections. These sections will explore the traits that tie magic to the profession of architecture. Specific examples will be used to demonstrate how architects often provide meaning in their work. As conceivers of future environments, architects manipulate technology and imbue their buildings with meaning, and, as such, create buildings that convey intent. This employment of technology to perform the ritual is familiar to both professional architects and magicians.

I In defining the practices of magicians, Marcel Mauss expresses the critical role which magic plays in the professions. He writes: “Magic is also part and parcel of some professions.”1 In writing this, Mauss is equating the role of magicians in society as having an elevated social status or often holding positions of authority. Their “social status predestines certain individuals to the exercise of magical power and vice versa the practice of magic ordains their social status.” As discussed earlier, magicians hold respected and vital positions as they work to benefit their communities to facilitate necessary change. Critical to the functioning of a society, magicians’ actions follow established rules, and it is the professionals who surround themselves with the trappings of a profession. The magician/professionals’ rituals adhere to prescribed actions. They can often be very uncomplicated and commonplace but engage the conditions of the rites specific to their discipline. 2 As compared to a magician, an architect is: a kind of official, vested by society with authority, and it is incumbent upon the society to believe in him [her]. … Quite naturally, he [she] assumes the spirit of his [her] function, the gravity of a magistrate. He [she] is serious about it because he [she] is taken seriously, and he [she] is understood this way because people need him [her].3 Indeed, the key to a comparison between magicians and architects is their unique ability to affect change through attempts to control the natural environment. Architects and magicians have the skills, talents, and abilities to “make.” Mauss equates these skills with their propensity for action, the ability to do what needs to be done, to intervene on the part of people who feel powerless. However successful in the end, magicians and architects engage in proactive and productive actions to facilitate change in a community. It is understood that the ability to “do” involves dexterity, a distinct domain of architects. This ability to make includes the construction of buildings and also the objects and drawings that facilitate the  design  process.

64 Foundations This representational seeing elevates architects to a level of creator, those who have the creative skills to envision new environments.4 The products of the creative mind can recall the historical notion of divino artista, a person who can envision things others cannot. For architects, the models and renderings created in a design process fascinate laypeople and set architects apart from the skills of the general population. The full-scale constructions, the buildings, are consummate evidence of architects’ abilities to control nature. In building dwellings, architects provide a useful service to repel the forces of nature that make humans’ lives difficult. When keeping out the rain and the cold, architects affect positive change that enhances the lives of the inhabitants. Magicians and architects are credited with substantially advanced insight and understanding of the cosmos. Their skills of observation, the behavior of elements in the environment, or human traits, may have given them unique insight into complex environmental constructs. Often revered for their knowledge of practical things, they may have been the researchers, experimenters, and innovators to question a society’s norms. This knowledgeable and respected position gave the magicians power to define the society, to set parameters around acceptable social behavior, the prevalent beliefs, and the modes of inhabitation. Architects, in the role of magicians, may possess similar traits. Educated to understand complex systems, architects, through their creativity and perception, can design solutions to issues facing a particular society. Uniquely insightful, they can synthesize various pieces of information to reach conclusions. Seeing the big picture, architects can think systematically and holistically to implement changes that reflect or improve a culture’s values and collective belief systems. Magicians have been known to have extraordinary powers of persuasion. Magicians that can control the overwhelming forces of nature and who possess a deep understanding of human nature could certainly gain extensive influence in society. Magicians have been proven to affect the course of nature at least some of the time, giving them standing in society but also putting them in a dominant position. To build and retain an elevated position, magicians needed to convince others of their abilities and their effectiveness. In comparison, architects must establish positive reputations to be trusted to construct the monuments that reflect a culture’s values. These constructions are expensive and require investment on the part of society. The ability to erect large and complex structures that demand tremendous resources gives architects their respected domain over the environment. Societies’ trust places architects in powerful positions, and also makes it necessary for them to be convincing. The persuasive capacity, like power, is unsettling to laypeople, and thus there is potential for deception. This power may be perceived as akin to sorcery. Magicians have traditionally persuaded others that they are effective, that they have the ability, and that they can provide and produce the desired  results.

Foundations  65 Similarly, architects may be susceptible to deception, and thus laypeople may be wary of their message and, indeed, their powers. Because magicians influence change in society, they are in a unique position to envision future events. They may be credited with portending, and thus they are sought out for advice and their abilities to intervene on behalf of individuals. Architects are afforded similar qualities, since, through designing, the future is revealed. To design means to anticipate the future, and this is a primary role of architects. Although governments can formulate goals for the future, it is architects who design what those new environments will represent. Such an ability puts architects close to those who can amass the resources to build. Architects can thus be influential in their abilities to realize and determine new environments. Having the vision and skills to determine the future is a position that is unique in society and sets architects apart. They are seen as having magical abilities that can be compared to those of a creator. Magicians that envision the future and affect change have historically given them the status of gods. Magicians’ skills to intervene on behalf of mortals give them a unique connection to the heavens, and in some cases place them in the position of the Divine. Similar to magicians, architects in creating environments may be viewed as rivals to the creator. Their abilities to build impressive structures with ephemeral environments establish their divine qualities. Constructing buildings and the products of the design process show the abilities of architects as outside the norm. The rendering of lifelike illustrations of the future gives laypeople a sense of awe. Making the images and models that seemingly come to life and seeing/ designing the future is the distinct domain of God. For example, the belief that architects were put in a position as “envy to the gods” is illustrated by a story Giorgio Vasari tells about the inscription on Giulio Romano’s tomb. “Enraged that a mortal should breathe life into his structures and that the buildings of a mortal should rival those of heaven, Jupiter snatched his artist from the earth.”5 Architects, as magicians, through their use of magical incantations, may evoke the powers of the heavens to bring about events that mere mortals cannot. The magic incantations utilized by magicians historically took the form of rituals that supported the efforts to make changes to a given situation. Enacted following the Laws of Similarity or Contagion, magicians performed the ritual actions that represented the physical manifestation of the magical evocations. Often conducted in secret, the rites were the repeatable actions that summoned the less than physical forces to work.6 Marcel Mauss writes about magical rites: “Where religious rites are performed openly, in full public view, magical rites are carried out in secret.”7 They are often performed in private places, and this secrecy indicates their intimate character.8 Magicians, when learning magical rites, were initiated into the practices of the discipline. Often shared in family groups, the magicians established associations that held their rituals tightly and were set apart from the rest of society.

66 Foundations Architects and magicians practice rites that have often been conducted in secret and consist of knowledge known only to those consecrated into the profession. Similar to priests, architects must be “ordained” or “initiated” into the profession and consequently, in contemporary society, licensed. To be an architect requires extensive education, apprenticeship, and then, in the process of registration, “dedicated” to society. During their education, architectural students are schooled in the history, language, design processes, and technical skills necessary for admittance into the self-governing organizations that control and act for the field of architecture. Students learn the design processes that include the creation of drawings and models that produce the seductive images that support the magical incantations. As Mauss writes, “Each magician is bound by his [her] materials, his tools and his [her] medicine bag, which he [she] inevitably uses every time he [she] works.”9 The modes of representation used by both magicians and architects may be considered the effigies of contagious magic as they are the rites that provoke the magical actions. Design is often conducted in secret before it is made public and revealed to a client. The secretive and creative aspects of the profession are reasons why many highly talented architects have historically been afforded mythical status. Magicians, “with their abilities to perform ‘miracles’,” were often bestowed with legendary status. The historic magicians, such as the ancient Persian Zoroaster or even the fictional Merlin, have been credited with highly developed talents. They have been assigned unbridled skills and given a larger-than-life status. Possibly because of their talents in leadership or exceptional success in affecting change, history has provided them with mythical reputations. Similarly, history has described architects who hold mythical status. The profound skills of Imhotep, Leonardo, Michelangelo, Alberti, Le Corbusier, or Frank Lloyd Wright have earned them a place apart from others in society. Their status may have emerged from their exceptional insight that cannot be comprehended by others. Vasari, in his book concerning the lives of Renaissance architects/artists, recounts stories of unexplainable innate talents possessed by these architects/artists of the time. Those with exceptional creative abilities can be deified because their talents are not understood by laypeople and other artists with less talent. These incredibly developed skills may have been attributed to magical or divine abilities. Works of architecture also become instruments of magic in that they can become talismans. Evoking magical connotations, they can represent a connection to the Divine or be symbols to ward off evil. By consciously provided meaning, buildings can also exhibit many of these examples of magical behavior.

II In our study of the architect as a magician, it seems appropriate to begin with the mythical and legendary Ancient Egyptian Imhotep. Imhotep,

Foundations  67

Figure 3.2 Bronze Statue of Imhotep, Source: Wellcome Images, CC-BY-4.0.

whose name in hieroglyphics means “the one who comes in peace,” was the first-named architect. He is said to have worked his way up to his essential position in Egyptian society by his genius. Some consider Joseph from the Bible and Imhotep to be the same person.10 Initially considered to be a mythical figure, he was proved to have existed by the American Egyptologist C.E. Wilbour in 1890. Imhotep is widely considered to be the firstnamed architect and served for many as a prototype for his contemporaries. He was a man of many talents and was a poet, judge, engineer, scribe, astronomer, astrologer, physician, priest, and, most notable for this study, was well known as a magician.11 Legend relates that Imhotep was the first to use a stone column to support a building. He was able to control nature, for example, since it is also believed that he developed a new irrigation system to supply water from the Nile even when the river was low. He was Councilor to the Pharaoh and became an essential and persuasive figure

68 Foundations in the Pharaoh’s court. Under King Djoser, Imhotep was vizier and chief architect, and was the high priest of the sun god Ra at Heliopolis. He was an excellent scribe, and legend relates that he invented the symbolic writing of hieroglyphics. His ability as a scribe is crucial, since it is well known that magical traditions from Egypt were closely connected to the written word. He is said to have reached demi-god status and was connected to the Divine. The importance of architects in Ancient Egyptian society is seen in the relationship between the house and a tomb. It is generally accepted that the Ancient Egyptians were usually considered to be happy, optimistic people who enjoyed their present life enough to want an afterlife modeled upon it. This optimism was reflected in their art and architecture. However, they did have one significant worry: they feared the spirits of deceased relatives, for whom they blamed all their troubles.12 It is little wonder that the Egyptians developed a preoccupation with the afterlife. For them, death seems to have resembled life. Their most significant efforts were directed toward preparing their tombs with all the equipment and provisions necessary to keep them at least as happy in death as they were in this life. It is not surprising that very similar hieroglyphics represent the Egyptian concepts of house and tomb. The house is the template of the tomb, and the tomb is the template of the house. It is well known that construction for the Egyptians was deeply intertwined with magical religious rituals. Excellent examples of this connection may be seen in temples and tombs. Such buildings, through their forms and decorations, were stone incarnation representations of magic, religious rituals. These buildings could give life by way of simulation either in this world or the afterlife. There are Egyptian texts stating that a temple and its contents represented the world of the dead. Such is the likely reason we find sections of these tombs shaped like houses and temples. Imhotep, like most master builders of the period, would have used magic rituals in the process of erecting tombs and temples to define the orientation and location of a building. Magic rituals were used for various technical processes during the construction. Visible components of a building were just as crucial as the invisible ones, such as buried offerings and sacrificial animals. The Egyptians used inscriptions and scenes of magical rituals for religious purposes rather than as merely decoration. Examples of this included paintings of stars on ceilings, lotuses on cornices, and snakes, eagles, and images of various spirits beneath. Typical of such a tomb is the pyramid, the generally acknowledged prototype of which is contained in the tomb complex of the Third Dynasty Pharaoh Djoser at Saqqara. This pyramid was based on two earlier ones. The first is in the form of a mastaba, which was an earlier Egyptian flat-topped tomb with sloped sides. The second is the ziggurat, a symbolic mountain. Historians credit Imhotep with designing the step-pyramid at Saqqara, known as the Pyramid of Djoser, in 2630 to 2611 BC.13

Foundations  69 Imhotep and the master builders of Egypt were not alone in connecting magic to a building. This connection occurred in many other cultures of the period. For example, architecture in Mesopotamia has its magical dimension as it sought to establish a relationship between humans and the Divine. Cities were dominated by religious structures which aimed to express the fundamental belief that “man was created to serve the Gods.”14 The ziggurats concretized this belief. The ziggurats intended not merely to imitate mountains but to become mountains, which were believed to be sources of mysterious powers of life. By placing a shrine atop the hill where life emerges, the communication between God and humanity appeared possible to humans.15 In Mesopotamia, temples were devised and built by the rulers and priests, who also performed magic rites.16 When building temples, rituals would be performed at all significant stages throughout construction. Meanwhile, secular buildings for both the royal family and layman were often protected from supernatural forces by amulets that represent “protective spirits.”17 One of the more interesting magical features associated with Egyptian tombs and pyramids was that many had hundreds of small, brilliantly painted wooden scale models located in almost every chamber. These small-scale models were more than merely replicas, since they took on an added dimension of spiritual belief. The needs of the deceased would be magically supplied eternally through small-scale model butchers’ shops, bakeries, granaries, carpenters’ workshops, and model boats.18 Animated by magic, they ensured that the deceased would maintain his or her proper status in the next world. These models reflected an Egyptian society preoccupied with the afterlife, and, in this way, they seem to have revealed the Egyptian belief system.19 The Egyptians probably saw scale models as a means of controlling and marking out a definition of nature as seen through Egyptian eyes. These small-scale models may be seen as magical because they represented an attempt to control the seeming perplexity of nature through techniques beyond those explainable by Egyptian natural laws or phenomena. Spiro Kostof writes about Imhotep: In Ptolemaic times his legend included authorship of “The Book of Foundation for Temples,” which had to be consulted by king and priest for every major building program of the official religion. The book had been carried up with the gods when they chose to withdraw from the earth, but Imhotep was believed to have let it fall from heaven, somewhere north of Memphis. 20 This story points to several important facts about Imhotep’s background. First, the education of architects in Egypt at this time was closely tied to the priests. The priests controlled most schooling in Pharaonic Egypt. Indeed, they would have connected their religion closely with magic and

70 Foundations architecture. Second, architecture in Ancient Egypt was tightly bound by precedent and tradition. These traditions were passed down from father to son. Indeed, this would have helped cement the connection architecture had with the all-prevalent Egyptian belief in magic that permeated their society. It is not difficult to connect the architect Imhotep with magic because he was well known as a magician. Artists and architects have as part of their character the ability to define society through their media. There is historical evidence that humans have always attempted to use the built environment to understand the complex mechanizations of their universe. For the Egyptians, magic, “Heka,” was tightly entwined with the Egyptian belief system, and the priest class was closely tied to magic. Again, the Ancient Egyptian Imhotep can provide us with an excellent example of this. He was known for his many talents, including architecture and magic, and he became one of only a few people of non-royal birth to be promoted to godhood (the Divine). 21 Like most architects, it was probable that Imhotep’s ability to predict future construction that earned him this status. He was able to read the signs concerning sites and the nature of materials, and to convince those in power to take specific and successful actions. Such actions as predicting and controlling future events were typically considered to be magic. His exceptional talents may have extended to a knowledge of numbers and calculation; areas long understood to have magical origins. The rational beginnings of mathematics – later purported to be the most irrefutable of the arts and sciences – maintained a certain amount of secrecy. Thus, Imhotep may have found them to be powerful instruments of seduction. 22 Imhotep’s talents are reminiscent of the legendary architects of the European Renaissance. During the Renaissance architects’ reputations thrived due to their ability to create works of art that were seductive, as they achieved a level of naturalness too skilled to be humanly rendered: “In these legends, the image of Deus Artifex which culminated in the concrete representation of an artistically active deity or one who collaborates with or aids the artist [architects of the period were generally considered artists] corresponds to the image of the divine artist.”23 Returning to the notion of divino artista, but now from a different direction, the divine artists were defined in terms of (the will of God translated through the artist’s brush) their ability to conjure the unknown. This talent imbued them with power that suggested a connection between the artist and the heavens. When artists/architects have mastery, divine skills, or seductive control over images, they appear to speak a unique language alien to the visually untalented layperson. The Italian author Umberto Eco wrote: This also helps us to understand why a person who speaks does not seem to be born with any special ability, but if someone can draw, he already seems “different” from others, because we recognize in him[her] the ability to articulate elements of a code which do not belong to the

Foundations  71 whole group; and we recognize in him [her] an autonomy in relation to normal systems which we do not recognize in any speaker except a poet. 24 Eco was comparing the characteristics of a poet to people with highly developed visual skills. Here the keyword is “draw,” since architects/artists have seductive visual representation skills that others do not. To some, these talents may appear magical. It is reasonable to then begin to connect Imhotep, the divine architect, and magician, the master creator of symbolic messages of the gods with Renaissance architects/artists. Since the Ancient Egyptian civilization is generally considered foundational to Western thought, understanding the position of architects within that society remains essential. Imhotep was revered for his great wisdom, so much so that he was later deified. Interestingly, Imhotep’s broad background is not far removed from the education recommended centuries later by the Roman architect Vitruvius. 25

III The mythical Greek architect, Daedalus, may also be regarded as a magician. Although the typical status of Ancient Greek architects was low, Daedalus was recognized by his society as an ideal architect. He was known for his skills and craft through the manufacture of machines called daidala, as well as through his creation of the labyrinth to contain the Minotaur. Through his making of the labyrinth, he established order. Daedalus acted in a divine capacity. He rivaled the Divine in his ability to create lifelike sculptures and his talents to foretell the future – all of which earned him the status of magician. The story of Daedalus is a myth that offers an archetypical explanation of the architect’s position within early societies. This myth is a recurring theme concerning the Greek architect that reflected common Greek cultural ideals. The myth expressed and reinforced the social status, customs, and cultural ties of the architect within Greek society. Although it is not necessary to regard the tale of Daedalus as a true story, it is commonly believed that the myth offers poetic insights into reality. Similar to magicians, there was not much praise for architects in Ancient Greece; even though they rose above the level of ordinary craftsmen, none ever attained the high position of, for example, the Egyptian priest/ architect Imhotep. The magical, mysterious, and divine roles maintained by Egyptian architects bonded the Egyptian state architects to a ruling class; this relationship was an element missing from the straightforward world of Greece. Those who practiced architecture in Ancient Greece were not especially prone to be celebrated by the public, likely because their buildings had mixed and confusing authorship. Although classical Greek architecture is now greatly respected, the social position of Ancient Greek architects did

72 Foundations

Figure 3.3 T he Fall of Icarus, Oil on Canvas 1636 by Peter Paul Rubens, Source: Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA, CC-PD-Mark.

not reflect this current exalted status. Architects during this period were not considered to be members of the highest class and, indeed, were not in the same class as philosophers. 26 J. Bundgaard advances the theory that Greek architects did not, strictly speaking, design buildings. Their lack of participation in the design may be why, unlike during the Egyptian period, not a single architectural drawing exists from this period. According to Bundgaard, both the form and construction of a Greek temple were traditionally defined sufficiently for the architect. Enough was predefined to allow the settling of issues on the site. 27 It appears that Greek architects did not make many essential design decisions. Although these architects

Foundations  73 did not blindly follow either the Egyptians or their predecessors, they made only slight modifications to these earlier designs. Ancient Greek mythology portrayed those who could use technology to design and create in a different light. However, the leaders of Ancient Greek society may have been concerned by this connection. It is through the well-known myth of Daedalus that we may find additional knowledge about the architect’s connection to magic. This myth may well be describing a significant relationship to the magic that the architects of the period might be capable of obtaining. The Ancient Greek and mythological artist and architect Daedalus was referred to in terms of a magician.28 It was said that he carved sculptures so lifelike that they walked out of his studio. This example gives Daedalus the role as a divine-like creator. As the prototypical architect of the Greek world, Daedalus also serves as an analogy to a primordial idea of architecture. Certainly, Daedalus can be linked to the daidala through his automata such as lifelike statues, machine-like bull (which he built for Queen Pasiphae), his wax-and-feather flying machine, and finally his labyrinth at Knossos. Daedalus’ ability to create the machine-like daidala placed him in a powerful position in his society. Francoise Frontisi-Ducroux writes: All sources agree that he (Daedalus) was an Athenian, son or grandson of Metion, a man who had been endowed with “metis,” a kind of practical intelligence and ingenuity which could be deployed in many ways but was mostly associated with the wisdom of craftsmanship in the Athenian tradition. While in Athens, Daedalus worked as a sculptor. He was the reputed inventor of agalmata, statues of the gods which had open eyes and moveable limbs, a compelling manifestation of the mystery of divinity (the verb “to see” was reciprocal in Greek: whoever saw was also seen, and the blind were invisible). These statues were so lifelike that Plato remarked upon their amazing and disconcerting mobility. Such was accomplished with techniques that are those of the “daidala.” Daedalus was also an inventor. Pliny enumerates the instruments that he invented while in Athens, including the saw, the axe, glue, and more significant for architecture, the plumb-line (cathetos or perpendiculum). 29 Alberto Perez-Gomez makes the connection between the name Daedalus and the Greek word daidala, which means to make or manufacture. The name Daedalus, more specifically, has been suggested by Perez-Gomez to be a play on the Greek word daidala, which appears in archaic literature as a complement of the verb to make, manufacture, to forge, to weave, to place on, or to see. Daidala were the implements of early society: defensive works, arms, furniture, and other such items.

74 Foundations Perez-Gomez writes: The “daidala” in Homer seems to possess mysterious powers. They are luminous – they reveal the reality they represent. It is a metaphysical “light” of diverse and often bizarre qualities, evoking fear and admiration. “Daidala,” particularly jewels, are endowed with “charis” (charisma) and thus with “Kalo” (beauty) and “amalga” (festive religious exaltation). “Charis” is a product of “techne” (art, skill, craft), but it is also a God-given grace. This mysterious emanation, whether artificially created or given by the gods, has the power of seduction. “Daidala” is, therefore, capable of producing dangerous illusions.30 “Daidala,” or art objects, can appear to be what they are not, and the metal plates give a value to the objects that they would not otherwise have. The principal value of “daidala” is that of enabling the inanimate matter to become magically alive, of “reproducing” life rather than “representing” it. Hence the word also designates “thaumata,” marvelous animated machines with brilliant suits of armor and scintillating eyes. The more primitive Homeric texts emphasize the ability of the “daidalos” to seem alive.31 Humankind has a fundamental need to create order from chaos. Daedalus’ structure, the labyrinth at Knossos, serves as humankind’s attempt to formulate such an order. It is not essential that we know whether Daedalus’ labyrinth existed, since it is generally accepted that the labyrinth is an analogy for a paradigm, the shared assumption that constitutes a society’s attempt to set the standards of order, the “primordial idea” of architecture. Perez-Gomez writes, “The labyrinth is a metaphor of human existence: ever-changing, full of surprise, uncertain, conveying the impression of disorder.”32 Daedalus created the daidala (a mechanism) of the labyrinth, which symbolizes the paradigm of order. However, why was this labyrinth created? The myth of Daedalus, like architecture, can be connected to the concept of analogy.33 The term in Greek later came to mean the consideration of similarities in concepts or things. Analogies are forms of inference: from the assertion of similarities between two things is then reasoned their likely similarity in other respects. The use of analogies is much the same as the law of contagion in the practice of magic. This myth contains analogies important for understanding its meaning and serves as an explanation for all pre-classical architects. The myth of Daedalus continues with the following story, which may clarify the implementation of the architect in classical Greek society. Having killed his nephew Talos out of professional jealousy, Daedalus was forced to leave Athens. He went to Crete, where he served in the court of King Minos at Knossos. Among his incredible achievements,

Foundations  75 there was the construction of a “daidalon,” a life-like wooden cow covered with leather in which Queen Pasiphae hid to seduce a magnificent bull (a gift from Poseidon to the Minoan King) with which she had fallen in love. Daedalus’ success with this task confirmed, once again, his skill as a demiurge. When, after seducing the bull, the queen gave birth to the Minotaur, Daedalus was asked to design a structure to contain this monster.34 Thomas Bulfinch writes: The labyrinth from which Theseus escaped by means of the clew of Ariadne was built by Daedalus, a most skillful artificer. It was an edifice with numberless winding passages and turns opening into one another, and seeming to have neither beginning nor end, like the river Meander, which returns on itself, and flows now onward, now backward, in its course to the sea.35 The creation of the labyrinth by Daedalus may be connected with the creation of architecture.36 This section posits that the labyrinth serves as a metaphor of human existence and that Daedalus’ creation of the labyrinth can seem like a paradigm of order, the “primordial ideal of architecture.”37 The Minotaur/monster was created from a union between a gift from the gods and a mortal. Daedalus, the mythological architect, designed the labyrinth, and its significance has been directly related to the idea of dance by Perez-Gomez. He tells us, “In archaic times, the dance was the architecture. The space of architecture was the space of ritual and not an objective, geometrical entity.”38 Perez-Gomez also finds that after slaying the Minotaur, Theseus (who represented the Greek mythical hero) engaged in a dance that imitated the meandering of a labyrinth. He writes: The connection between this image and the Trojan games described by Virgil in the “Aeneid” has often been observed, as have the possible relationships between these ritual dances and the rituals of the foundation of cities in Roman times, which made the city secure; the ritual was so important, in fact, that it had to be re-enacted periodically.39 Jean-Pierre Vernant, the French historian and anthropologist, writes that in Homer, techne, particularly metalsmithing, carpentry, and weaving, is the know-how of the demiourgoij and it is not differentiated from the act of magic which, like Prometheus, taps the power of the gods.40 Architecture for the Ancient Greeks was also a product of techne (technology). It was believed that those who could create this technology could control, often dangerously, the order of the world. Further, those who created technology, known to the Greeks as the Demiurge, had the skills to create wondrous objects or magical effects. For the Ancient Greeks, such technical actions

76 Foundations depended upon the same kind of intelligence as metis (magical cunning), a propitiatory power or cleverness in overcoming disorder.41 Daedalus designed the labyrinth to contain Pasiphae’s monstrous offspring, the Minotaur, half-man, half-bull. The idea of the Minotaur as a monster is derived from the Latin monstrum, which means portent (an omen or prodigy), and from monere, which means to warn.42 Monsters have similarities to soothsayers.43 The divine monster symbolized a seemingly chaotic message from the divine gods; consequently, the paradigm-like labyrinth attempts to demonstrate and define an understandable boundary of standards around the message of the divine. Daedalus, in his design of the labyrinth, was anticipating the future and defining the message from the divine gods. This ability to see and interpret the future again places Daedalus in the role of a magician.

IV Roman society had strong beliefs in magic, and these beliefs affected much of the organization of the Roman Empire and the practice of architecture. Similar to Greek society, critical to the rapid and successful expansion of the Roman Empire was a sense of order that permeated construction, culture, and acted as a foundation for the lives of the Romans. This order is demonstrated in guidelines (rules for geometry and proportions) for buildings, as relayed in Vitruvius’ treatise On Architecture, but also specifically

Figure 3.4 A Depiction of Vitruvius Presenting De Architectura to Augustus by Sebastian Le Clerc, Source: Taken from Vitruvius on Architecture, by Thomas Gordon Smith, CC-PD-Mark.

Foundations  77 in the organization and layout of cities. It was the responsibility of architects with the assistance of augurs to impose this order upon a vast empire. However, the distinction between these two professions is unclear and may have been the same. The relatively quick expansion of the Empire required complex organization and an established system of order. As introduced in Section II, augurs were official diviners whose function it was not to foretell the future, but to divine whether the gods approved of a proposed undertaking. They may be considered as a prophet or soothsayer. Augers were responsible for the layout of cities and buildings. King Numa, of the Romans following Augustus, charted a similar order, enacting similar acts of augury when founding parts of the city and gaining power as a monarch.44 When founding Roman cities, “The augur took his lituus, the crooked staff, marking out the right and left sides of the heavens, and pointed to where the gods should send signs, which accordingly they did.”45 Numa sought to found a new type of Roman city, one that could bring peace to the Roman people, and decided to construct the Temple of Janus at the foot of the argiletum. In this sense, augurs were the chief principals to read the signs from a higher power and translate them into something useful when determining an appropriate site for development. Roman emperors were therefore seen as individuals. They had the capability of acting “as both priest and god of his cult” under their augural status.46 Acts performed by the augurs were not permitted to be performed by other individuals in Roman society. “The result was thus the further concentration of both secular and spiritual power in the hands of a single person.”47 Romans also had determined principles of how their cities were to be planned. In this planning, “shape and formation were adapted to the physical geography and phenomenological meaning of that landscape.”48 The coincidence between the division of space into quadrants for augury and the actions of the surveyor setting out a grid was noted by the land-surveyors. Like the augur, the surveyor observed the terrain and divided it up into quadrants, a format which seems to have been ubiquitous in the Roman interpretation of space.49 Roman cities were built with measurements based on the Roman unit of measure referred to as iugerum.50 Concepts of space, commonly included in Roman cities, included an orthogonal grid of streets and enclosing blocks arranged around a central space.51 It was under the reign of Augustus that the Roman military camps, called castrum, began to become a recognizable standard, which was a repeated and established form. They were laid out by architects or engineers who traveled with the military. Two types of castra were created by the Romans: the Polybian by Polybius and the Hyginian by Hyginus.52 The Hyginian was much more significant; however, both camps followed a traditional design, form, and arrangement of spaces. “The essential requirement for any

78 Foundations Roman camp was that it be surveyed and erected with the greatest possible speed and efficiency.”53 The camps were laid out as small cities, the sites chosen with specific strategic advantages. The augurs and architects observed natural signs on the site. They understood the importance of “a site that was easily defended on open or raised ground, that was near water, and that offered little opportunity for a hidden or sudden attack by an enemy.”54 Inside the old Roman forts, there were two main streets called cardo and decumanus.55 Decumanus ran east to west with the transverse cardo running north to south.56 It was the surveyor of the development project who determined the orientation of the camp, the surveyor most likely either the augur himself or working in close relation with the augur as the founders of these small cities. “The mensores placed boundary markers at the intersection points along the two principal axes, cardo (Kardo) and decumanus, and on the right angles delimiting the centuries.”57 The length of the camps was to be one-third greater than their width; Romans were firm believers in using strict proportions and divine numbers in their building and urban design.58 Such castra were developed under a strict sense of order and were believed to contain a specific power for the Roman people which would otherwise be lost. It was thought that “trading towns developed haphazardly if military demands or special planning did not impose regularity.”59 Castra was imperative in the succession of the Roman people, since the Roman armies needed to be stationed within new regions as the Empire was expanding. Through the simple and logical system of castra orientation, Augustus was successful in his strength to station legions and auxilia within new provinces.60 It could be interpreted that architects worked through the advice of the augur. In this relationship, the augur and architects had a mutually advantageous responsibility to enact the organizational order that guided construction. These two professions may have had similar goals. The augur in the role of a direct connection to the Divine is comparably the responsibility of architects. It can be speculated that architects and augurs were one and the same, or that the augur and architect worked together to establish the order of these cities. Thus their connection to the Divine and their ability to foretell the future gave them status as magicians. The information we have about the role of architects in first-century Rome emerges primarily from Vitruvius and his treatise. Although he does not overtly describe architects as magicians, he alludes to their actions as being like magicians. We recognize that Vitruvius was mindful of the politics of his time and that he addressed his treatise to Augustus in an attempt to explain the value of the profession and to acquire commissions. It may not have been diplomatic for Vitruvius to compete with others as a magician. It is valuable to explore the Roman position on magic and how it affected architecture. To illustrate this situation, we can turn to the Roman

Foundations  79 architect Marcus V. Pollio, known as Vitruvius. Vitruvius studied and consequently was influenced by Greek science and philosophy, and served as a military engineer under Julius Caesar. He is known for building at least one group of buildings for Augustus in the reconstruction of Rome. Later in his life (sometime before 27 BC), he wrote one of the most influential books on architecture ever written.61 We have previously stated that, at various times through history, artists and architects were bestowed with the title of “magician.” This reference may have stemmed from their skills in representing objects from nature as, again, the divino artista – having God or god-like abilities.62 Vitruvius performed many actions, representing the architects of the Ancient Roman period, that could equate him with the role of a magician. Most notably, magicians and architects are known to establish order. In his treatise, Vitruvius advocates that Roman architects should hold positions in society similar to that held by Imhotep in Ancient Egypt. Indeed, there are many similarities between the two. Both believed that architects should be literate, broadly educated, and placed close to and influencing the power of the state. Such a belief placed Roman architects in a much more significant role than that held by Greek craftsmen. Although the general population widely practiced magic, it is interesting that unlike Egypt, in both Rome and Greece, magic was not entirely accepted by the state. Such distrust may be a reason why Vitruvius makes little direct mention of magic in his famous treatise. Events in Rome may have affected why this happened. In 27 BC, after he defeated Mark Antony and Cleopatra, the Senate bestowed upon Octavian the titles of Augustus and Princeps.63 Augustus was a religious title symbolizing authority over humanity and nature. Augustus began referring to himself as Imperator Caesar divi filius, “Commander Caesar, son of the deified one.”64 In other words, he wished others to consider him as a son of a god. With this title, he boasted his family links to the deified Julius Caesar and the use of Imperator to victory.65 Augustus presented that he was an “executor of a divine mission,” and later it was stated that “he had found Rome a city of brick and left it a city of marble.” Certainly, Vitruvius would have known that Augustus held the power, money, and will to build. The Introduction to Vitruvius’ Treatise indicated that it was being used as a polite and political resumé. Its purpose was to present himself and his ideas to Caesar.66 Augustus represented Rome, which found the use of magic questionable, even illegal, as it may have been used against the state. Vitruvius may have perceived the political situation, and this may be a reason why the Treatise speaks little about magic. The answer to this exclusion may be found in Vitruvius’ dedication to Emperor Augustus. He addresses the book to Caesar and states that he, Caesar, was divine. When Vitruvius writes about how architecture could represent an idea, he uses the Caryatids as an example, not the gods or the mystical symbolism used in Greek temples. It seems likely

80 Foundations that Vitruvius was proposing that architecture could represent the power of the state and the Divine Emperor, and that he, Vitruvius, was a man to be trusted with this task. Considered the first King of the Roman Empire, Octavian took the title Augustus – a divine title – which was closely related to his augural status.67 He chose to call himself Augustus instead of Romulus as the founder of the city because the name was closely related to the term ius augurium.68 The Roman historian Suetonius understood this connection and viewed “the title Augustus as meaning and implying something associated with the office of augur and the practice of augurium.”69 With this divine power, Augustus was responsible for performing acts of augury, which would aid in the reorganization of the natural order of the world within both nature and Roman society.70 Vitruvius likely thought it unwise to compete with Augustus. Even though Vitruvius minimizes his relationship with magic, it remains infused in the work. In Vitruvius’ famous statement that architecture consisted of both theory and practice, he places theory first. Theory, why we build, is most concerned with keeping the spirits under control and connecting with the Divine in heaven. Practice was the part of the architecture that kept the rain out and the wolves away. In other words, it is how we build to keep the inhabitants safe and comfortable. Architects have been put into positions of authority because of their ability to invent, foretell, and materialize concepts, turning their theories into reality. Similarly, magicians have had “the gift of conjuring up more things than any ordinary mortals can dream of.”71 This quote stresses the qualities of creativity and imaginative prowess that magicians possess and are also traits of artists and architects. The means through which architects achieve their ends often appears impossible to the layperson. As evidence of another connection to magic, Vitruvius also believed there to be a great connection between the astrology (zodiac) and the planets, and how architecture can form a divine relationship with it. He stated, “the heaven revolves steadily round earth and sea on the pivots at the ends of its axis. The architect at these points was the power of Nature.”72 Vitruvius quantified 12 “signs” which he believes to be depicted in nature, that each has an effect on the moon, the sun, and Mars, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn within their respective orbits. For example, “when the sun is at the equinoxes, that is passing through Aries or Libra, he makes the gnomon cast a shadow equal to eight-ninths of its length, in the latitude of Rome.”73 From the reading of the signs and its relationship to the sun, it can be determined that “the days of the equinoxes and the winter and summer solstices are always divided into twelve equal parts.”74 Through the quantifying of seemingly abstract signs of nature, the sun can be used to the advantage of the architect on the site. In doing so, Vitruvius can be seen as an individual capable of quantifying these abstract signs of nature

Foundations  81 into something applicable to architectural design; in this case, the sun and its effects on the site. Similarly, in determining water on a site, it is “the molding power of nature that the qualities of things are produced.”75 Vitruvius wrote of Euripides describing the Earth as something “impregnated by the rains of heaven and, thus conceiving, brought forth the young of mankind and all of the living creatures of the world.”76 Water, in this sense, is hard to quantify as an abstract element of nature, which becomes an essential part of human life and development; however, through the teachings of Vitruvius, architects can gain an understanding on how to quantify such an abstract element of nature into something applicable to design. Vitruvius wrote a chapter instructing designers on how to find water so that spaces can then be designed based on these discoveries. He instructs designers to “before sunrise, lie down flat in the place where the search is to be made, and placing the chin on the earth and supporting it there, take a lookout over the country. … Then, dig in places where vapours are seen curling and rising up into the air.”77 For this time, this could be seen as the use of advanced knowledge to determine the appropriateness of a site and the best way to situate development on it. Vitruvius can be analyzed as a strong example of a Roman architect who, through his techniques and abilities to establish Roman rituals of design, could be closely related to an augur. He established set proportions and perfect numbers to be used within architecture as determined by the nature of the human body. He took the proportions of a perfect body and translated them into a building plan. These proportions, for a man placed flat on his back, with his hands and feet extended, and a pair of compasses centered at his navel, the fingers, and toes of his two hands and feet will touch the circumference of a circle … therefore, since nature has designed the human body so that its members are duly proportioned to the frame as a whole … in perfect buildings, the different members must be in exact symmetrical relations to the whole general scheme.78 These symmetrical and proportional relations were used most strictly in temples of the gods, as these structures were believed to contain higher powers than other structures. In addition to proportions, Vitruvius believed ten to be the true “perfect number.” He chose ten because “it is from the number of the fingers of the hand that the palm is found, and the foot from the palm.”79 The relation of the body in terms of numbers and proportions and its use in architectural design may be seen as an example of Vitruvius representing nature through a physical object. These numbers and proportions were followed closely by future Roman designers, most likely due to the belief that they would provide their buildings with a higher source of meaning.

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V A study of magical practices across ancient civilizations reveals reoccurring beliefs discussed in the previous sections. These beliefs again demonstrate that the development of magic is a universal phenomenon originating from humans’ ambition to understand and manipulate their environment. For example, we can look at the magical traditions in the history of ancient Mesopotamia, China, India, and Africa. It is essential to consider the relationship between these civilizations, magical practices, and how this was represented through their architecture. Magic was ubiquitous in the ancient civilization of Mesopotamia and was closely intertwined with the everyday lives of its people. Mesopotamian cosmology holds the belief that the universe consists of heaven, Earth, and netherworld, which are bonded together by the force of nature.

Figure 3.5 A n Image of Zoroaster on Mirrored Etched Glass at the Zoroastrian Fire Temple, Taft, Iran, Photo: A. Davey, CC-2.0 Generic.

Foundations  83 Magic was not a separate discipline but an essential part of this cosmic order.80 It is difficult to make a clear distinction between magic and religion, and other disciplines such as science and medicine in ancient Mesopotamia.81 The pervasiveness of magic is comparable to that of Ancient Egypt, discussed previously in this chapter.82 The interpretation or divination of omens was a large part of the Mesopotamian magic practice. The Mesopotamians believed in omens to foreshadow events, and the power of magic rituals to prevent the occurrence of adverse events. Omens were also believed to be the only method of communication between gods and humans. Thousands of omens and their countermeasures had been recorded in handbooks used by practitioners of magic. The ritual of extispicy was also practiced for divination. It involved the dissection of animals and an examination of their intestines to read signs and messages.83 Astrology was the most essential area of Mesopotamian divination. The ancient civilization was also the first to develop astronomy based on accurate scientific observation and calculation. The observation of planetary movements and large-scale natural phenomena again foreshadowed events and revealed divine messages.84 Architecture in Mesopotamia had its magic dimension, as it sought to establish a connection between humans and the Divine. Cities were dominated by religious structures which aimed to express the fundamental belief that “man was created to serve the Gods.”85 The ziggurats concretized this belief. The ziggurats intended to not only imitate mountains but to become mountains, which were believed to be sources of mysterious powers of life. By placing a shrine atop of the mountain where life emerges, the communication between God and humanity appeared possible to humans.86 In Mesopotamia, temples were devised and built by those who also performed magic rites.87 When building temples, rituals would be performed at all significant stages throughout construction. Meanwhile, secular buildings for both the royal family and layman were often protected from supernatural forces by amulets that represented “protective spirits.”88 Through their ability to make such buildings, architects performed magical acts. Throughout the history of ancient China, magic practices in their various forms, such as divination and shamanism, had also been well documented. In early times before the introduction of Buddhism, practitioners of magic had worked either as court officials for the state authority or as independent entities.89 They engaged in a wide range of activities such as the interpretation of dreams and occurrences, the preservation of calendars or the official almanac, and rituals and sacrifices. Most of these activities were concerned with observing and understanding the patterns of nature to predict and control future events.90 Three fundamental beliefs guided magical practices in ancient China.91 First, the idea of auspicious time states that certain activities are best conducted at certain times. Second, the Chinese cosmology provides a system of essential concepts such as qi (cosmic current), yin yang (two opposing but complementary states of the cosmic current), and the five

84 Foundations primary elements.92 Third, the belief in magic numbers is also present in Chinese history. The influence of these ideas can still be felt in present-day society. An excellent architectural example may be seen in the rituals of the vernacular dwelling of the Dong tribe in southern China. This society exemplifies the use of magic in architecture, demonstrating the importance of the concept of auspicious time in Chinese traditions. The Dong live in multi-story elevated wooden houses called ganlans. More than just dwellings, ganlans are considered to have symbolic significance, as they are constructed based on rules of orientation and geomancy. A set of rituals accompanies the entire construction process of ganlans. One of the most sacred elements of the structure is the “golden beam,” or the ridge pole, which is believed to be analogous to the human backbone supporting the whole body, the roof, and thus heaven above. First, the ridge pole has to be “stolen” from the forest at a specific auspicious time, during which the builder appeals to the power of the mountain spirits through enchantments. Next, the ridge pole is placed on trestles to receive ink markings by the head builder, who again recites incantations to bless the construction and house owner. Finally, when the ridge pole is raised on top of the finished roof frame, charms such as coins, rice, and tea are placed in a mortise cut on the ridge beam, which is believed to bring prosperity and fortune to the household, assured by the auspicious words of the head builder.93 Hindu temples of India are another example of the use of magic in architecture. They are a manifestation of the Divine through cosmic order; they make present the world in terms of physical measures to make it accessible to humans. Hindu temples rise from a broad base and guide the eyes of the faithful to the worlds above. Although their forms differ greatly based on different schools and regions, they all serve the purpose of connecting the Earth with heaven.94 The temple is built by an architect, or sthapathi, under the instructions of a priest. The architect is expected to not only possess vast knowledge about the science of architecture but should also be well versed in various branches of science, mathematics, and astronomy. After all, a broad knowledge of the world assists the architect in “the reconstruction of the universe.”95

VI In the European Middle Ages and into the Renaissance, most scholars believed that numbers “were endowed with marvelous virtues.”96 Like astrology, numbers were seen as revealing another dimension of truth concerning the world. Architects as builders were intimately acquainted with the use of numbers and also ratios, and thus were most certainly practicing magical acts as they applied these proportions to buildings. When describing architects of the early Middle Ages, the historian Spiro Kostof wrote that the design process employed by these architects grew from a geometric

Foundations  85 progression beginning with “equilateral triangles, circles, and squares.”97 The architects of medieval Islam obtained less theoretical education, but Ibn Haldun spoke of “the importance of geometry for architects.”98 Others included “the mathematician astrolabist Alamaddin Qaisar, or Maslame b. Abdallah, the geometrician of the tenth century at the court of Cordoba, who were practicing architects.”99 Superstition, often indistinguishable from magic, has guided the construction of buildings throughout history. Architects (or Master Masons as they were called in the Middle Ages) were often the ones demonstrating these magical practices. It has been related that: when the foundation of a new building is being laid, it is the custom to kill a cock, a ram, or a lamb, and to let its blood flow on the foundationstone, under which the animal is afterward buried. The object of the sacrifice is to give strength and stability to the building. However, sometimes, instead of killing an animal, the builder entices a man to the foundation-stone, secretly measures his body, or a part of it, or his shadow, and buries the measure under the foundation-stone; or he lays the foundation-stone upon the man’s shadow. … Not long ago, there were still shadow-traders whose business it was to provide architects with the shadows necessary for securing their walls. In these cases, the measure of the shadow is looked on as equivalent to the shadow itself. To bury it is to bury the life or soul of the man, who, deprived of it, must die. Thus, the custom is a substitute for the old practice of immuring a living person in the walls, or crushing him under the foundation-stone of a new building, in order to give strength and durability to the structure, or more definitely in order that the angry ghost may haunt the place and guard it against the intrusion of enemies.100 Architects, in reflecting the society in which they live, have used magic to ensure the success of their buildings. In many cases, they can create the metaphor in three-dimensions that sets them apart from laypeople. As stated above, architects may employ charms, rituals, or even the measure of a human’s shadow to control the forces of nature. The architects, then, conduct magical actions, defining them as magicians. In the Middle Ages, there are many examples of architects’ magical practices. These can be deemed magical because they use the laws of similarity (Sympathetic magic) or the laws of contact or contagion. The following example of the development of gargoyles on cathedrals demonstrates how a story became a physical element using these theories of magic. The myths surrounding the development of gargoyles on medieval cathedrals illustrate their magical meaning that was perpetrated by architects for several centuries. The etymology of the word “gargoyle” emerges from the Old French gargouille descended from the Late Latin gurgula that meant “throat” or “gullet.” In architecture, a gargoyle projecting off of the roof of a cathedral

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Figure 3.6 Gargoyle Water Spouts at Sacre Coeur, Paris, Photo: David McSpadden, CC-BY-2.0.

acts as a channel to spout rainwater from the roof and away from the exterior walls.101 The myth of the medieval gargoyle began with a story of a violent dragon (La Gargouille) residing in a cave near the Seine River in France. As the legend describes, this dragon had a serpent-like neck and a slender jaw and snout, and its body included membranous wings. The population feared the dragon because of its ability to cause flooding by spouting water. In addition, the dragon was able to destroy buildings and ships with its fiery breath. To avoid much of this destruction, the people of the region provided the monster with sacrificial humans. These were either criminals or maidens. As the story is related, a priest found a way to mitigate this evil force. It is said that around the sixth or seventh century in France, this priest (Romanus, also known as Saint Romain) arrived in Rouen and assured the population that he would destroy the dragon if they would build a new church and subsequently become baptized. Romanus then performed the ceremonies necessary to defeat the dragon, and this included him making the sign of the cross. As a result, he brought the monster back to the town on a leash devised from clerical fabric and then publicly burned the dragon. It is told that the dragon’s head and neck were displayed on the town wall to provide a monument to this important event, and thus became the inspiration for the use of gargoyles in Northern Europe and England. The head of the dragon was ceremoniously reconstructed in stone off the roof of Rouen Cathedral. The defeat of the dragon represented the victory of Christianity

Foundations  87 over the dragon and rituals commemorating the events continued up until the French Revolution.102 Architects needing to drain the roofs of cathedrals used the spouts as an opportunity to express the myth through these gargoyle sculptures. The placement of the gargoyles, in the retelling of the story, may have acted as a talisman to ward off evil spirits. Indeed, the Catholic Church would not dispel this belief, since it supported the power of religion to protect the population. In a similar interpretation, some historians believe that the gargoyles were a metaphor for Christianity’s ability to frighten Satan and wash away sin. Another possible reason was that the gargoyles could attract pagans into the church to be converted and thus expand their congregations.103 Still, other theories suggest that the demon and dragon sculptures represented the power of Christianity over evil.104 The Catholic Church was certainly willing to support this interpretation, and because of this, something that appeared pagan (the gargoyles) was allowed to remain as an architectural element. The architects (master craftsmen) were magicians by making the gargoyles because they utilize basic principles of magic. Since sympathetic magic is based on “like produces like,” then the effect resembles its cause. Further homeopathic magic identifies that magicians use models or rituals to affect future events in an attempt to control nature. The architects of the Middle Ages were using the gargoyles as downspouts to send rainwater away from the cathedral walls. These gargoyles were models of the dragons to remind people about how the church dominated over the floods and devastating fires (controlling nature), and thus the gargoyles kept evil forces at bay. The gargoyles also represent the principle of magic that is described as contact or contagion. The law of contagion states that things that have once been in contact with each other will continue to act on each other. This action continues to occur at a distance and after the physical contact has been severed. The replication of gargoyles on cathedrals references the severed dragon head displayed in the center of town. The once severed head is now under control. In repeating gargoyles on subsequent cathedrals, architects re-created the event of slaying the evil dragon, and thus the original and the re-creation remain in contact. When architects gave the gargoyle function as a downspout, it meant that the gargoyles and the repelling of evil could be perpetrated – using the form of a gargoyle/dragon as a downspout meant protection against floods and fire. Here a simple sculpture of a dragon would not suffice, as the gargoyle, in the role of contagion, demonstrated the form of the dragon but also displayed the cessation of the flood. The gargoyle’s ability to control nature, the flow of unwanted water, made the magical talisman complete. This story emphasizes the gargoyle as a magical talisman, thought to be empowered, that was continued in practice by architects who believed the myth and recognized the powerful architectural imagery that perpetuated

88 Foundations an essential relationship used by the Catholic Church to communicate with their congregations. In reproducing these gargoyles, architects (as magicians) were using magical practices believed to protect the church buildings and communities they constructed.

VII Rudolf Wittkower wrote: “Renaissance architecture was conceived as an image or mirror of a pre-ordained, mathematical harmony of the universe.”105 Renaissance architects looked back to examples of temples of Ancient Greece and Rome and also those of early Christianity, and deduced that “this man-created harmony was a visible echo of celestial and universally valid harmony.”106 Wittkower writes that for Leon Battista Alberti, “music and geometry are fundamentally one and the same; that music is geometry translated into sound, and that in music the very same harmonies are audible which inform the geometry of the building.”107 With this belief, geometric forms acquired special meaning, as the circle and its center were regarded as symbols of God.108 For example, Alberti, in his treatise On Architecture, recommends shapes for rooms and also for churches, as a circle, square, hexagon, octagon, decagon, dodecagon, square + ½, square + 1/3, or square doubled.109 The Renaissance believed: in the harmonic mathematical structure of all creation. However, also, music had a particular attraction for Renaissance artists because it had always been ranked as a mathematical “science.” There was an unbroken tradition coming down from antiquity according to which arithmetic, the study of numbers, geometry, the study of spatial relationships, astronomy, the study of the motion of celestial bodies, and music, the study of the motions apprehended by the ear, formed the quadrivium of the mathematical “arts.”110 If Renaissance architects thought architecture was a science, then numbers were proof of a connection between mathematics, music, and architecture.111 This thinking extended to the proportions of Vitruvius’ human figure. It revealed a visual relationship between the physical world and the intellectual entities of the soul and God.112 The architect, mathematician, philosopher, Cardinal, and translator of Vitruvius, Daniele Barbaro, described how mathematics is foundational to architecture. “Mathematics has its life from the intellect; and those arts which are founded on numbers, geometry and the other mathematical disciplines, have greatness and in this lies the dignity of architecture.”113 During this period, all of the above were also closely connected to the practice of magic. An interesting Renaissance example of this connection between numbers, proportions, music, magic, and architecture is seen in

Foundations  89 an astronomical/astrological research facility (in what was once Denmark) begun in 1576. The Uraniborg was designed, using Pythagorean principles, by astronomer Tycho Brahe as a talisman. In the design of this building, “Tycho (as perhaps other Renaissance architects) sought to achieve by proportioning buildings and other structures in musical ways.”114 This building displayed talismanic qualities through its design using the Vitruvian

Figure 3.7 Tycho Brahe’s Mural Quadrant, Author Unknown, CC-PD-Mark.

90 Foundations context: hermeticism, and Renaissance neoplatonism. The plan was governed by the square and circle “reflecting the relationship of microcosm and macrocosm and the quest to square the circle implicit in the alchemical mysticism studied by the astronomer.”115 Its design was inspired by the talismanic principles of Marsilio Ficino and Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa using astrological themes.116 By employing astrology, Tycho was introducing the idea “to take something that God gives to all – planetary influences in orderly, predictable cycles – and to contrive devices – i.e., talismans – that manipulate how we receive those balances here on earth.”117 He used elective astrology, a form of astrology that “works out the best times for specific activities. Such activities could include travel, a business transaction, founding a new building.”118 Alistair Kwan explains that: Talismanic technology depends on the mechanism by which astral influences reach us, and equates them with radio receivers. The concept is that they receive all frequencies all the time, but are tuned to respond far more strongly to the narrow band occupied by one station (planet) while suppressing signals from all the rest.119 The Renaissance thinker Ficino’s account was similar; he wrote: astral influences stream down on a flow of tine matter called spiritus mundi of which scholars, on account of their cerebral activity, have an especially great need. That flow of spiritus is conveyed to us by the heat of the stars and most strongly by that of Jupiter and the sun. It can be absorbed by a talisman designed to respond most strongly to the cycles of Jupiter and the sun.120 In other words, the creation of such talismans, Kwan writes, “is an important element of what Ficino means by ‘magic’: the general idea is to discover Nature’s occult forces, and create devices that redirect them for human benefit.” Thus, devising such a talisman means finding forms “whose geometry embodies certain musical harmonies,” and will evoke a related resonance.121 Ficino referred to Pythagoras for musical spatial ratios.122 How to use these musical ratios to imbue architectural beauty was discussed in the Renaissance by Leon Battista Alberti, Girolamo Cardano, and Palladio’s patron Daniele Barbaro. “For Barbaro, it was a matter of emulating God, specifically by construing buildings in His mathematically perfect image.”123 But not everyone understood these ratios in a strict sense. Giorgi believed that it was not necessary to replicate divine perfection but instead to express the essence of it. “This approach also agrees with Ficino’s notion that talismans ought not to be merely possessed, but taken in through the senses and

Foundations  91 contemplated unto the soul. For the soul may thus bridge between the imperfect material object below and the perfect abstract ideals above.124 It was understood that a talisman’s geometry should equate with cosmic harmonies, and to achieve their positive impact they should be formed at times when the planets exert the proper influences.125 This outline of “musical theory and talismanic magic suffices to connect astrological magic, and Agrippa in particular, to Tycho and Uraniborg.”126 Kwan argues that Vitruvian and Palladian symmetry has been viewed as the foundation for the design of Uraniborg.127 He finds differences between Palladio’s number scheme and Tycho’s simpler scheme – but still with number relationships – and proportions – such as 3:1, 4:1, 5:1, 4:5 (musical intervals – octaves and fifths, thirds). The disdiapason (double octave) had been compared with the sun, and the quinte (compound fifth) was connected with Jupiter and Venus.128 In planning Uraniborg, its horoscope dictated the day for the beginning of construction. Its geometric layout was connected to talismanic ideas. For example, the four-by-four grid matches with the four-by-four magic square Agrippa equated with Jupiter, and the four gates reflected a castrum plan. Kwan argues that the proportions that Tycho chose to use, and his knowledge base, is, therefore, the “reason to consider Neoplatonist talisman theory as a plausible source for Uraniborg’s design.”129 Although most architects of the Renaissance employed these theories, Andrea Palladio is probably best known for his strict adherence to harmonic proportional principles. As Rudolf Wittkower wrote in his definitive book, Architectural Principles in the Age of Humanism, there is evidence that Palladio utilized this proportional system in his buildings. There is additional literature to support the notion that Palladio appreciated Giorgi’s Platonic speculation, and had a close association with Daniele Barbaro: “his knowledge of Platonism must have been considerable.”130 Wittkower declared that Symmetria for Palladio was “as a meaningful relationship of numbers, in tune with that cosmic order which Pythagoras and Plato had revealed.”131 It is probable that by associating in the Quattro libri virtue with architecture, Palladio, like Barbaro, regarded as the particular “virtue” inherent in architecture the possibility of materializing in space the “certain truth” of mathematics.132 From this research, Wittkower concluded that: Palladio took the greatest care in employing harmonic ratios not only inside each single room, but also in the relation of the rooms to each other, and it is this demand for the right ratio which is at the centre of Palladio’s conception of architecture.133

92 Foundations More recent researchers have questioned Wittkower’s thesis. Deborah Howard and Malcolm Longair compared the drawings in Quattro libri with Palladio’s built work. In finding differences between the plans in the book and what was eventually built, they suggest that the drawings may have been adapted for publication and do not reflect the practical issues such as site conditions.134 They also discovered that even though the drawings may be idealized versions, many of his buildings do adhere to harmonic proportions.135 Howard and Longair specifically cite five villas that show the most significant correspondence between the published drawings and the finished buildings. These are the Villas Emo, Badoer, Barbaro, Malcontenta, and Rotunda.136 If not all of Palladio’s buildings reflect the exact proportions that he states as being the most beautiful and well-proportioned shapes of rooms, Palladio indeed strove to achieve an ideal. The ideal is also evidenced in his sketches that he was preoccupied with proportion and specifically harmonic proportion.137 As Wittkower wrote, the Renaissance architects believed that architecture is a science: that the architect is by no means free to apply to a building a system of ratios of his choosing, that the ratios have to comply with the conceptions of a higher order and that a building should mirror the proportions of the human body; a demand which became universally accepted on Vitruvius’ authority. As man is the image of God and the proportions of his body are produced by divine will, so the proportions in architecture have to embrace and express the cosmic order.138 The Renaissance architects, and especially Palladio, relied on harmonies, and, although not always translating musical ratios directly into architecture, were “making use of a universal harmony apparent in music” that would magically assure beautiful architecture.139

Notes 1 Marcel Mauss, A General Theory of Magic (London: Routledge Classics, 2008), 29. 2 Ibid., 44. 3 Ibid., 96. 4 Gary Kemp, Wollheim, Wittgenstein, and Pictorial Representation: Seeing-as and Seeing-in (Abingdon: Routledge Taylor & Francis Group, 2016). See the whole text. 5 Kris Ernst and Otto Kurz, Legend, Myth, and Magic in the Image of the Artist: A Historical Experiment (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1979), 85. 6 Mauss, 23. 7 Ibid., 23. 8 Ibid., 24. 9 Ibid., 60. 10 Emmet Sweeny, “OOPARTS (out of Place Artifacts) & ANCIENT HIGH TECHNOLOGY – Evidence of Noah’s Flood? Were Joseph and Imhotep of

Foundations  93

11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33

34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43

Egypt The Same Man?” (2001), and Betty Rhodes, “Was Imhotep and Joseph the Same Person?” Joseph and Imhotep. See the whole text. Spiro Kostof, The Architect (New York: Oxford University Press, 1977), 3. E.H. Gombrich, The Story of Art (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hill, 1984), 21. Barry J. Kemp, Ancient Egypt (New York: Routledge, 2005), 159. Henri Frankfort, The Art, and Architecture of the Ancient Orient (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1996), 5. Ibid., 6. Leland M. Roth and Amanda C.R. Clark, Understanding Architecture: Its Elements, History, and Meaning (Abingdon: Routledge, 2013), 69–71. Walter Farber and F.A.M. Wiggermann, “Mesopotamian Protective Spirits: The Ritual Texts.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 116, no. 2 (1996). doi:10.2307/605703. Christine Hobson, Exploring the World of the Pharaohs (London: The Paul Press, 1987), 93. E.H. Gombrich, in the Introduction to Art and Illusion, takes the view that Egyptian art reflected the Egyptian belief system. Spiro Kostof, The Architect: Chapters in the History of the Profession (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2000), 6. Baldwin E. Smith, Egyptian Architecture as Cultural Expression (New York: Appleton-Century, 1938), 61. Noah Charney, The Art Thief (New York: Washington Square Press, 2007), 306–307. Kris and Kurz, 58. Umberto Eco, A Theory of Semiotics (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1979), 215. Marcus Vitruvius Pollio, De Architectura, trans. Frank Granger (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1985), 7–11 Kostof, 26. J.A. Bundgaard, Mnesicles: A Greek Architect at Work (Copenhagen, Denmark: Scandinavian University Press, 1957). Alberto Perez-Gomez, “The Myth of Daedalus,” AA Files 10: 50. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. The term “analogy” is derived from the Greek analogia meaning “proportionally.” Originally it was a mathematical term signifying a common or reciprocal relationship between two things or a similarity of two proportions. Peter A. Angeles, Dictionary of Philosophy (New York: Barnes and Noble Books, 1981), 8. Perez-Gomez, 10: 50. Penelope Reed Doob, The Idea of the Labyrinth (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1990), 160. Perez-Gomez, 10: 50. Francoise Frontisi-Ducroux, Dedale, Mythologie de l’artisan en Grèce Ancienne (Paris, France, 1975), 90. Perez-Gomez, 10: 50. Ibid. Jean-Pierre Vernant, Myth and Thought among the Greeks (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1983), 2 vols, vol. 11, 44ff. Perez-Gomez, 10: 50. The Oxford English Dictionary, s.v., “monster.” For additional information on this subject see Marco Frascari, Monsters of Architecture (Savage, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 1991).

94 Foundations

Foundations  95







































96 Foundations 21 1 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139

Ibid., 103. Ibid., 104. Ibid., 106. Ibid. Ibid., 107. Ibid., 108. Ibid., 112. Ibid., 115. Ibid., 119. Wittkower, 106. Ibid., 96. Ibid., 69. Ibid., 72. Deborah Howard and Malcolm Longair, “Harmonic Proportion and Palladio’s ‘Quattro Libri’.” Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 41, no. 2 (1982), 116–143, 354. Ibid., 116–143. Ibid., 126. Ibid., 118–120. Wittkower, 101. Ibid., 110–111.

4

Shift

Figure 4.1 Clockwork with an Alarm Mechanism by Nathaniel Dominy V at the Winterthur Museum, Author: Daderot, CC-Zero-Self-published work.

The practice of magic declined during the period following the Renaissance in Europe, and consequently this affected architecture’s relationship with magic. Some have described this decline as a form of disenchantment. Disenchantment represents the introduction of rational ideals, a move away

98 Shift from the immaterial and spiritual, and the loss of magical thinking. The words disenchantment, and subsequently enchantment and re-enchantment, are all related to magic. To enchant is to delight, to put a magic spell on, charm, attraction, the power of the quality of attracting.1 The loss of enchantment may have disturbed the architect’s traditional relationship with magic as a means of controlling natural forces and as a connection to something beyond. There is a traditional belief that architecture can be seen as passive thinking mechanisms reflecting a meaning beyond just building. Think of the machine as a metaphor for architecture. For this reason, this chapter uses three machine-based metaphorical examples, all dealing with concepts of technology and its connection to magic to introduce this decline. Since the etymology of architect in Ancient Greek means chief technician, this link is relevant. The first section of the chapter will describe the role of the machine in the decline of magic in relation to architecture. This decline will be described by discussing the differences between the deux ex machina as the machine sent from the gods and the deux qua machina as the machine representing God. The second section will tell the story of Descartes’ automata, Francine, and the dualistic separation between the mind and the body. Finally, the discussion will turn to the age-old story of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice that chronicles humans’ fear of the power of mechanization and subsequent attempts to control its forces. These stories will be used to explain how architects engaged in a new era of modernity and rationality. The chapter will argue that enchantment, a concept closely related to magic, is a function of the spiritual and immaterial critical to architecture. It will conclude with the concept that modern science is not necessarily in conflict with the mysteries of magic. 2

I The Renaissance in Europe demonstrated a period when religion, magic, and early notions of science were intertwined. It is well known that the Catholic religion dominated most of the populations’ daily lives. Religion was vital to the community, as it provided values such as “reverence for tradition … courage and confidence in the struggle with difficulties and at the prospect of death.”3 At the same time, magic was practiced in almost every community, and scholars such as Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa wrote extensively about its role in society (De occulta philosophia). With similar goals, magic is not unlike religion, and when the Catholic Church practiced it, it was known as white magic. Although magic is directed at practical ends, as the anthropologist Bronislaw Malinowski writes, its purpose “is to ritualize man’s optimism, to enhance his faith in the victory of hope over fear.”4 During this period, often called the Scientific Renaissance, science had emerged in the form of epistemological explorations based on the belief

Shift  99 that “experience, effort, and reason are valid” in the form of astronomy, alchemy, and mathematics.5 The decline in the practice of magic and the rise of disenchantment began as early as the 1620s. This decline was influenced by the philosophical writings of Descartes and as a result of various cultural and societal factors. The historian Keith Thomas suggests that this decline in magic was not the result of a sole reason but instead involved numerous converging influences. Some may point to a new rationalist attitude and the scientific revolution (and later the Enlightenment) that deemed magic as intellectually unsatisfactory, but this may be only part of the picture.6

II Breaking long-held beliefs is both a gradual and complex process, and the reasons that historians believe magic waned were many.7 Magic and religion were primarily a means of social control, and thus they had parallel functions. Religion concerns questions of human existence, while magic rotates around concrete and detailed problems. The clergy of the time saw magicians, who were practicing outside the structure of the Catholic Church, as rivals.8 This rivalry precipitated the Church hierarchy to attempt to discredit the practice of magic outside their doctrine. During the Renaissance, magic and science had advanced simultaneously, as they had similar practical objectives. Specific techniques governed both. Malinowski describes this relationship and writes that “magic is akin to science in that it always has a definitive aim intimately associated with human instincts, needs, and pursuits.”9 For example, the mystical belief in numbers as a key to all mysteries revived the study of mathematics and led to discoveries such as heliocentrism.10 A rationalist attitude born out of the Renaissance, Humanism supported a new view of the cosmos.11 Although magic and science existed simultaneously and did not present a conflict, magic had difficulty competing for respect, as Thomas writes: “magic is dominant when control of the environment is weak.”12 Thus science and technology made magic less potent, as “the stronger man’s control of his environment, the less his recourse to magical remedies.”13 At the closing of the Renaissance magic was practiced primarily in two circles: the folk magic of villagers in Europe, and what Thomas calls intellectual magic. At the cusp of a rational age and a general decline in magic, intellectuals studying in the scientific realm were highly religious and yet persecuted for their beliefs in magic. Scientists such as John Dee and Isaac Newton in Britain are examples of those intellectuals experimenting with rational laws of nature and also holding strong beliefs in Christianity as well as Cabalist magic.14 It may be difficult to conclude that they lost their belief in magic, but instead they were never able to separate and did not find conflict with intertwining the three.

100 Shift

Figure 4.2 Integra Naturae Speculum by Robert Fludd, Source: Wellcome Images, CC-BY-4.0.

Architects of the Late Renaissance were most likely involved in the ordinary magic of the workers on building sites, particularly the use of charms and talismans left over from the practices of the Middle Ages to protect the buildings they built. Architects of the period were also known to be knowledgeable about intellectual magic, especially the study of numbers. They developed their knowledge in the arts of building by way of the treatises of Vitruvius, Alberti, and Palladio, for example, as well as other popular writings. The intellectuals of the time (through their publications) influenced the practices of architects. For example, John Dee (1527–1609) belonged to the Renaissance Hermetic tradition, and was an accomplished mathematician, especially comparing numbers to the Cabalists.15 He studied

Shift  101 number as technology and applied science but also related it to astrology and alchemy.16 Likewise, Isaac Newton (1642–1727) was known for his studies concerning natural laws, but he also wrote extensively on the topics of alchemy and biblical interpretation, and like Dee he was a profoundly religious man.17 He was searching “for the One God, and for the divine Unity revealed in nature.”18 Like Dee, he was equally fascinated with geometry and proportion, referencing Vitruvius. His interest in sacred geometry and proportions, such as the golden section, may be seen in his studies of the Temple of Solomon. Both Dee and Newton were interested in geomancy, astrology, numerology, and alchemy, and Newton summoning of angels. The architecture of the period reflected these beliefs. The historian George Hersey writes: “Baroque architecture was above all mathematical.”19 This interest was manifest primarily in the music and geometry of the heavens. The interest in geomancy – number and shape magic and prophecy – was widespread. Hersey’s research finds that there were two types of shapes: effable and ineffable. He writes: “some proportions are effable, and can manifest themselves by [rational] numbers … other proportions are ineffable and cannot be expressed in [rational] numbers, but are called irrationals.” For architects, this meant that they understood “effable or rational shapes as part of a divine order involving all the regular or geometric solids – not only cubes but spheres, certain parallelepipeds, the Platonic and Archimedean

Figure 4.3 Dome of the Capilla de Villaviciosa, Mosque-Cathedral of Córdoba, Author: José Luis Filpo Cabana, CC-BY-4.0.

102 Shift solids, and other select two- and three- dimensional shapes.”20 During the Baroque period, the use of such geometric principles determined a group of “transcendent beliefs about the architecture of the cosmos.”21 The shapes were created in a relationship with cosmic music and reflected musical ratios. 22 Thus the musical proportions were both heavenly geometries (angelic music) and geometric relationships. 23 Using these geometries was most distinctive in the work of Baroque architects Francesco Borromini and Guarino Guarini. The use of heavenly symbolism, magical musical ratios, and the geometries of planetary elliptical orbits (identified by Johannes Kepler) came together in architects who were able to assimilate religion, science, and magic effectively. Toward the end of the Renaissance, there began a change in intellectual perceptions. Keith Thomas writes that many changes in belief began with the intellectual elite and were subsequently accepted by the general population. This period of decline in magic was demonstrated by “the rejection of Aristotelianism and Neoplatonic theory.”24 The change in thinking meant the dismantling of the microcosm theory, which had been the intellectual foundation of astrology and alchemy, for example. 25 The new thinking that diminished the influence of magic at the beginning of the seventeenth century was the emergence of the scientific revolution. Around this time, Francis Bacon had called for “a general reform of nature-knowledge, into a fact-finding, practice-oriented mode of experimental science.”26 This approach introduced the universe as based on natural laws, “killed the concept of miracles, weakened the belief in the physical efficacy of prayer, and diminished faith in the possibility of direct divine inspiration.”27 In this way, the “Cartesian concept of matter regulated spirits … to the purely mental world” meant that imploring magic was less critical. 28 Historians such as Frances Yates believed that the rise of the scientific revolution was the “next step both extending and opposing a magical worldview of Hermeticist origin,” and critical to this shift was an enlightenment of the human mind. 29 The problem was that magic is symbolic and expressive more than being purely practical, as it feeds our human spirit.30 Changing social circumstances (secular law courts deciding matters of morality, for example), literacy, the invention of the printing press along with a move of a primarily rural population to urban centers contributed to the decline of magic.31 Thomas suggests that international banking, the rise of insurance companies, and organized firefighting eliminated the need for magical talismans and charms to ward off natural events beyond humans’ control.32 More importantly, the growth of natural and social sciences and a self-help attitude (grown out of the acceptance of humanism) made the magician less influential in society. The writings of German sociologist Max Weber, influenced by the work of the 1700s poet and philosopher Friedrich Schiller, claim that a loss of respect for magic as well as other spiritual issues created a form of

Shift  103 disenchantment. “Weber famously claimed that we live in an age of disenchantment (Entzauberung), an age in which reason, rejecting religion in favor of science, has destroyed traditional modes of wonder and enchantment.”33 Weber used the notion of disenchantment to express regret for what culture must forfeit to progress.34 This disenchantment was a result of the prevalent “expansion of rationality in modernity,” and it was a natural extension of tradition, myth, and superstition being usurped by reason. 35 In this way, Weber felt that “secularism supplanted religion, scientific and expert knowledge replaced myth and magic, and most profoundly, bureaucratic formal social structures like the organization, the guild and the nation-state began to erode traditional collectives like the family, clan, tribe, and community.”36 Disenchantment, for Weber, meant that all things could be solved with calculation and that the progression of rational beliefs would replace the “nature-centered world of myth” with a “human-centered” culture dominated by efficiency.37 In the context of magic, Weber viewed the disenchantment of the world as a “gradual decline of mystery.”38 Much of the disenchantment Weber perceived was in reaction to the rational, the scientific revolution, and the rise of machinery, and later the Industrial Revolution concerned with areas such as manufacturing and mass production. In parallel with the physical use of machinery, philosophers used the idea of the machine as metaphorical in their work. A machine is generally considered to be something with a practical purpose, a device that substitutes for or extends humankind’s forces. The word itself has the same etymological root as “might.” The word “machine” comes from the Latin machina and the Greek word mechane, meaning devices or contrivances for doing a thing, and mechos, meaning “the means” or “the way by which something is expedited.”39 A machine can be a structural or constructed thing, which is why many architects consider a building to be a passive thinking machine.40 Most important for the discussion of architects as magicians was the rise of mechanical philosophy: the universe understood as a large-scale mechanism. With this movement, science and technology made magic redundant, but Thomas purports that the decline of magic opened the way for technology, not necessarily the opposite.41 In the void caused by the decline of magic arose the belief in mechanical order. The creation of order is central to the work of architects, as well as of magicians. Creating order has also been a fundamental principle and a function of rational thought. The Renaissance religious belief in order was a necessary precursor to the later work of the natural scientists who led the way in the rise of technology.42 The Earth no longer being the center of the universe, and the “mathematization of nature,” meant that “the subjection of increasing ranges of empirical phenomena to mathematical treatment [established] ways suitable to experimental testing.”43 Although mathematics had always been a part of magic, this change in the dominant paradigm also affected architects’ relationship with magic. It led architects to trust in geometry and proportions to a greater degree, which created new

104 Shift ways for architects to think about design. In the rise of humanism and selfdeterminism, architects were free to make their own decisions. They were assured in the ability to experiment and trust in their inventions, and this afforded them the means to resolve architectural questions with solutions that created a new order. If architecture is to be more than just shelter from the elements, it must be infused and inspired with meaning. Architecture must reflect how and why humans inhabit the cosmos. Architecture achieves this by operating as a form of “passive thinking machine,” demonstrating conceptual ideas. The architectural theorist Marco Frascari, when discussing Vitruvian tradition, wrote of how the idea of the machine is embodied in architecture: “human dwellings are constructions of memorable machines, which tell us the time of our habits.”44 To further understand this concept, we might compare passive architectural mechanisms to similar types of machines.

III An excellent historical example that demonstrates machines as enchanted is the deux ex machina of Ancient Greece. These were initially employed as a plot device in theatrical productions where an unsolvable conflict or point of tension was suddenly resolved by the unexpected appearance of an implausible character, object, action, ability, or event. The name deux ex machina can be translated as God (or god) from the machine. The device was a machine lowered onto the stage to intervene at a critical time in the play’s narrative. The deux ex machina seemed magical, as it appeared from

Figure 4.4 Deux ex machina, created by the author.

Shift  105 above, unexpectedly, and had the power to change the direction of events. The enchanted machine would provide a twist to the plot that solved an unsolvable crisis in the story. The intervention of the “god from the machine,” being dropped from above, could teach lessons to the population by providing religious or moral commentaries, suggesting divine criticism, approval, or insight.45 Similar to magicians, who were called upon to resolve circumstances in nature that had gone awry through their magical powers, the deux ex machina interjected with a power unexplainable to humans. The appearance of the machine represented something unexpected that could intervene in a confusing narrative. For architects, the deux ex machina may indicate a unique and divine intervention into a confusing scenario. Then the architecture itself could become a passive thinking machine and fulfill this role. There remain many examples of architecture such as cathedrals that offer us an excellent example of this. The “god from the machine” could provide an element of delight, wonder, or enchantment to the work. Able to be compared to magic because they suggest both control of nature and an appeal to the Divine, buildings in the form of deux ex machina assist as an insight into a condition that may have confused its inhabitants. The example of the deux ex machina reminds architects that machines have a long history of connection to divine intervention. Machines can make life easier, accomplish tasks that humans find difficult, and increase the might of humans’ activities. Architects have been very accepting of machines, as they were considered good, helpful, and non-threatening. The deux ex machina was the machine from God that could help untangle confusing issues. Comparatively, through history, architects invented machines that could resolve difficult circumstances, evoking inspiration, better construction techniques, assistance to defy gravity, and achieving greater heights. Architects have also been familiar with machines that evoked a higher being when they designed buildings long known as passive thinking machines. Like the deux ex machina, buildings are the voice of the gods, and what they represented (and their symbolism) connected humans to the divine. The fact that architects built environments that connected culture to the heavens identified them as rivals to the Divine; this includes the wellknown comparison of the architect as a creator. In reference to Prometheus, architects were stealing fire from the gods. In the example of the deux ex machina, the machine was imitating the Divine, and thus it became a form of theurgical magic. Like magicians, the machine can influence and make things right, restore the order of nature – control the forces of nature. The machine in the hands of architects assisted them in becoming magicians.

IV One particular use of machines by architects, popular in the Renaissance, was the mechanized automata used, especially as illusionary religious artifacts called the deux qua machina. The historian Jessica Riskin refers to

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Figure 4.5 Head of an Italian Automaton (The Devil), Photo: Giovanni Dall’Orto, CC-2.0, Generic, Self-published Work.

the deux qua machina as examples of animated images of Christ on the cross and angels displayed in churches. She contends that at this time, “neither the idea nor the ubiquitous images of human-machinery ran counter to Christian practice or doctrine.”46 Contrary to later interpretations of automata as being deceptive replicas of humans without a “soul,” these mechanical contrivances were useful in displaying Catholic doctrine visually. The automata appeared as magically enchanted illusions, since the machinery was hidden so that worshipers could view flying angels and Christ moving his eyes and lips. Widely accepted, the automata supported an illusionary agenda that, controlled by the Church, was seen as representing “divinity and vitality.”47 Referencing the automata deux qua machina, Riskin suggests that the automata replicating religious themes were viewed as God working through or “in the capacity” of a machine. Qua, from the Ancient Greek, can be translated as “regarding, concerning, in the capacity of or as.”48 In this definition, the animated figures were employed as demonstrations of divinity. These figures may have been understood as similar to the Churches’ storytelling illusions in stained glass. In this way, the magically animated mechanisms helped fascinate, enchant, educate, or entertain a mostly illiterate population that the Church hoped to keep from straying. Like white magic, accepted and employed by the Church,

Shift  107 the mechanisms served as effigies that helped the parishioners make a connection to the Divine. It is well known that the Catholic Church employed architects in the design of the deux qua machina mechanical devices. Architects, and to some degree clockmakers, were called upon because of their aptitude with mechanisms (the use of pulleys, levers, lifting machines, and gears, for example) and also because they understood the illusion necessary for inspirational environments. Architects of the Renaissance were fascinated with machines for construction and found inspiration in the way the Ancient Romans used machines, such as those illustrated in Vitruvius’ treatise. Riskin relates that the fifteenth-century architect Filippo Brunelleschi designed and built a mechanical replica of the Archangel Gabriel for the feast of the Annunciation at San Felice.49 The Archangel was animated on a symbol representing “heaven and earth, matter and spirit.”50 The mechanized heaven was reported to be “truly marvelous … for on high a Heaven full of living, and moving figures could be seen as well as countless lights, flashing on and off like lightning.”51 All of these fantastic illusions appeared magical and were also strongly connected to the power of the Divine. It also seems reasonable to accept that architects built the deux qua machina because they also constructed the cathedrals understood by many as passive thinking machines. The religious automata acted similarly, since they effectively channeled communication with the Divine; this was a form of theurgical magic. Mechanisms were commonly used in theatrical productions of the time, and architects were also engaged in designing and constructing them. Toward the end of his life, for example, Leonardo relocated to the royal court in France to design theatrical pageantry for the entertainment of the King. He was adept at designing automata and machines to support the illusionary fantasy of the theater. Historian Walter Isaacson suggests that Leonardo’s flying machines were most likely designed for illusion in the theater rather than being imagined as future airplanes. Architects were undoubtedly interested in lighting effects, atmosphere, and phenomenological illusion in their buildings. Baroque architects such as Filippo Juvarra, Ferdinando Galli Bibiena, Juanelo Turriano, and Nicola Sabbatini continued the connection between architects and mechanical set design for the theater, engaging in magic to inspire and evoke the Divine for entertainment. 52 The automata of the Church, the deux qua machina, were enchanting, and thus were both “mechanical and divine.”53 Their movement made clear the relationship between the corporeal and divinity.54 Soon this relationship became tainted with questions of how these religious artifacts could be both deity and representation.55 The new paradigm of philosophy, the Reformation, and the recognition that these divine images were mechanical, brought criticism of the automata. This criticism did not stop their popularity, and in fact, for the Jesuits automata continued to be primary in

108 Shift their spread of Christianity.56 The construction of mechanical contrivances served to be common throughout the Renaissance, especially for use in private homes and theatrical productions. Architects were also instrumental in the use of mechanisms and automata in secular constructions. Many of these were constructed with waterworks. This is understandable, since the Renaissance and Baroque hydraulic gardens were designed by architects and engineers. An example of a garden containing hydraulic automata was created by Cardinal Ippolito II d’Este, who most famously demonstrated water features on his estate in Italy. Other examples were created by the Archbishop of Salzburg, Markus Sittikus von Hohenems at Hellbrunn, and in France by Louis XIII, who created automated machines that were both animated and whimsical. 57 Although no longer a direct replica of Christ, a saint, or the heavens, the automata machines were still infused with the Divine animation of God’s creations in nature. The deux qua machina revealed machines as representative of God or God’s work. In this example, magic and religion were integrated into a symbol of technology: the machine. The deux qua machina represents how architects worked with the Church to use machines to emulate God. The deux qua machina relates a narrative as a building recites the liturgy of religion. Architects were using their skills as magicians to work the magic of the Church.

V The rise of Humanism, science, and rational thinking caused a paradigm shift that is best illustrated by the philosopher Rene Descartes. With a discussion of mechanisms representing life, it is appropriate to relate a story of Descartes and the automaton Francine. Francine was the daughter of a domestic servant named Helena Jans van der Strom who worked for an associate of the French philosopher Rene Descartes. Helena soon became Descartes’ servant, and he began to refer to Francine as his niece, and both were treated like family. Descartes wrote that he wished to take Francine, whom he considered to be his daughter, to France to become educated, but before that happened, 5-year-old Francine died of scarlet fever. It is well known that Descartes was devastated by her death. For many years, a poignant story about Descartes was circulated. It told of his construction in the human form of an automaton, which he called Francine. According to the story, Descartes constructed her as a mechanical person, based on mathematical principles. Some variations of the tale relate that the mechanism was so lifelike that it was indistinguishable from Francine. Other variations of the story state that the automaton was allegedly constructed to demonstrate that humans as animals are only machines and have no “souls.” According to the tale, Descartes was always accompanied in his travels by the automaton. He is said to have slept with her enclosed in a trunk by his side. During a sea voyage, a curious sailor opened Descartes’ trunk and discovered Francine. When her

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Figure 4.6 An Automaton Exhibited at CIMA (Centre International de la Mécanique d’Art), Photo: Rama, CC-BY-SA-2.0-FR.

existence was reported to the captain, he had her thrown overboard as a product of black magic. 58 Descartes believed in the superiority of mathematics as a means for understanding the world. Mathematics had long been associated with the realm of magic because it helped define nature, which was created by the divine forces. Although Descartes remained highly religious throughout his life, he chose to disconnect or abstract the measurable from the immeasurable. He wrote, “Of all who have sought for the truth in the sciences, it has been the mathematicians alone who have been able to succeed in producing reasons which are evident and certain.”59 He believed that every situation in human life, every problem facing humankind, could be solved by

110 Shift applying the irrefutable, all-encompassing laws of mathematics. Descartes believed that the universe was a mechanism, moving in a mathematically measurable clockwork system. From this point of view, all living bodies may be seen as machines, forms of automata, mechanically responsive to stimulation.60 For Descartes, even the human body – the critical measure for architecture – could be considered a mechanism. The creation of automata, such as Francine, may be seen as an attempt to imitate life. For this reason, automata have long fascinated philosophers and architects in their search for divinity. This search is essential for a discussion of architects as magicians because of the issues which such mechanisms raise concerning inspiration. Automata and robots have traditionally been fashioned to resemble humans, demonstrating human characteristics and performing human activities. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the word automata, the plural of automaton, is from the Greek automatos, meaning self-acting.61 The word self means of single character or mind, while act means to animate or actuate.62 When a thing is animated, it is endowed with breath or soul; to actuate means to put into mechanical action or motion. Therefore, we can say that to automate something is to endow it with a singular character, containing breath or soul, and with the ability to act mechanically. It is possible to speculate further that automata are machines or control mechanisms designed to follow a predetermined sequence of operations automatically or to respond to encoded instructions. Descartes proposed that everything could be viewed in terms of mathematics. Francine represented his notion of the split between body and soul. The machine, as a metaphor for architecture, in this context represents the modern concept of rationalization of a soulless machine overtaking magic and religion. Mathematics and rational thinking were seen as the new order replacing magic. Architects accepted this rational paradigm of the modern condition and diminished their connections to magic and its relationship to the Divine. Mechanisms such as automata could then be seen as lacking the immeasurable and immaterial essence or substance which animates or inspires. We may say that Daedalus worked by magic and Descartes by science.

VI It can be considered that in his search for the rational and measurable, Descartes created the automaton, Francine. She was useful in demonstrating Descartes’ theory on the division between a machine-like body and a human spirit. Descartes split the mechanical body and the human mind, thus creating a dualism. While the body could be precisely measured, the magical spirit in its abstraction is difficult to quantify. This difficulty created a split between measurable things and immeasurable things. The immeasurable includes such things as the soul and spirit, which is the realm in which magic exists. However, such immeasurable elusive qualities are essential aspects of human existence, and because of this, they enrich architecture.

Shift  111 The concept of automata questions the very life of a machine; it is analogous to architecture because buildings may be understood as containing life, as being “animated.” While architecture does not possess bodily life, it can reflect the spiritual and magical aspects of human life. It demonstrates an understanding of the cosmos, and thus informs humans about the current condition of the human spirit. In defining measure, it can be stated that “Measurement is the process used to answer the questions: how many how or how much? Measurement, broadly defined, can be made by the unaided human senses and brain--for example, in estimating distances dimensions, temperatures, and weights.”63 When humans develop a measure, they are offered a standard, an acceptable unit of quantitative or qualitative value by which something immeasurable is determined or regulated. Each measurement of an unknown involves comparing it with a carefully conserved known. It is through humanity’s attempts to measure invisible things that humans produce not only units of measure such as inches, liters, and pounds but also the philosophies and belief systems needed to measure and define. It is through the attempt to measure things which are invisible that humanity creates the analogies that serve as a framework within which to develop the interpretive narrations of architecture. While some things can be measured, immeasurable things, such as the soul, the spiritual, and the realm of magic, were left to the world of highly interpretable metaphors and analogies. Immeasurable things (magical soul) are closely related to automata through the idea of animation. The etymology of soul comes from the Middle English soule, meaning the immeasurable essence or substance, the animating principle, the actuating cause of life.64 The soul is the immortal part of humankind, having a permanent existence contrasted with the temporal body. A soul defines a human’s spiritual, moral, or emotional nature as distinguished from his/her mind or intellect. The immeasurable is also the realm to which magic attempts to connect, understand, and control. It describes a person’s total self. The soul is often portrayed as the emotional side of human nature and can even serve to represent the principles of thought and action in human beings.65 The soul can describe the total human and is sometimes distinguished from the idea of a human’s spirit. In the biblical tradition, the combination of the spirit and the body has been interpreted to be equal to the idea of the soul. The word spirit comes from the Latin spiritus or breath, literally meaning breath of life, usually given by a deity. When a human receives inspiration, it means to breathe in the spirit. To be inspired can mean to be guided or directed by a divine influence.66 The representation of machines as people exerted a fascination not only as a marvel but also because the automata posed an essential question about the differences between humans and machines that appear human. There must have been a certain feeling of sacrilege in the idea that these were humans in physical form only, created by humans and thus without complete souls.67 Therefore, we might say that machines, which do not

112 Shift have the spiritual side of the soul, could be seen as lacking the ability to be inspired. Indeed, this problem could also affect architecture. It is essential to consider that God created the first automata. According to Talmudic tradition, Adam was created in five hours. In the first hour his dust was gathered from all parts of the world; in the second, it was kneaded into a shapeless mass (Golem); in the third, his limbs were shaped; in the fourth, a soul was infused into him; in the fifth, he arose and stood on his feet. This theme is repeated in Genesis 2: [30–33], where it is stated that “the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.”68 Architecture as a form of representation attempts to define and participate in the invisible, immeasurable world of the divine ideal. This world has historically been considered divine, as in the work of God, or having the nature or condition of being perfect. However, the creation of architecture as a machine can also be an attempt at divining or foretelling the future. These two meanings of the word divine are closely related. It is through the architect’s attempt to reproduce the powers of the Divine that the analogies and metaphors required in developing the architecture machine can be created. Humans build architecture not only to foretell and control the future but also to mark out plans for an overall attempt to define the supreme or ultimate reality. The architecture provides humans with an understandable scale from which they can project and develop the measurements needed to define their concepts and ideas, and, finally, the immeasurable. As a form of passive thinking machine, the architecture may demonstrate an understanding of the cosmos, and thus inform its inhabitants about the current condition of the human spirit. A knowledge of automata and its connotations can offer insight into the architect’s attempts to create inspired buildings. It can help us understand the concept of architecture more clearly. Such insight may occur through the analogy of humans represented as mechanized automata, where the lifeless replica is animated. This “bringing to life” does not assure that the duplication is complete; moving and thinking may not be enough. In the absence of a soul, the automaton also loses morality and possibly aspects of being. Comparatively, a soulless architecture denies an ethical foundation and can be a destructive force. The search for the soul through representation compels the human mind to engage the spiritual. This demonstration of immortality may reach for the Divine. The shift to rational thinking has questioned architecture’s relationship with the immeasurable. Previously, architecture served not only to provide for our physical comfort and safety but also as a way to fulfill our immeasurable spiritual needs. This connection is why concepts of magic remain relevant to architects, since, without magic, we can lose the connection to the Divine or the ability to engage the immeasurable. This connection seems natural, since humans have traditionally looked to the heavens for divine solutions to their problems. Still, trying to understand and define spiritual

Shift  113 and divine things may prove difficult. Visually explaining the spiritual search is much more complicated than controlling the physical effects of nature on the human body. Difficult as this might be, we as architects are still curious about searching for answers to the crucial issues which machines raise concerning concepts of inspiration. This search involves defining the idea of the soul, explaining our place in the cosmos, and understanding our relationship to magic. It is the attempt to define meaning in our lives and in general; it concerns defining through our buildings, the spiritual principle embodied in human beings.

VII The capacity to control nature allows humans to employ knowledge and reasoning to improve living conditions and solve problems instead of appealing solely to supernatural or divine forces. As previously discussed with deux ex machina, when the machine is used to solve problems beyond human capacity, humans have gained confidence in their ability to control nature through technology. This human-centered view may have created a false illusion of control that led to the abandonment of magic. The sociologist Max Weber identified the result of rationalization and intellectualization as the “disenchantment” of the world. This disenchantment occurred when the rational and scientific replaced myth and magic.69 Forces of disenchantment may be seen in all fields of human endeavors, such as law and politics, each developing terms to achieve its agenda. The story of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice can serve as an analogy to illustrate the pitfalls of rationalization. This story helps demonstrate the controversial use of technology since the Industrial Revolution. We will suggest that there have always been counter-forces of enchantment that appeal to the mythical and immaterial. These counter-forces had caused a growing effort to “re-enchant” the world. The most prominent result of Enlightenment is the advancement of technology and its dramatic impacts upon a way of living. Ever since the Industrial Revolution, technology has brought about countless improvements to the conditions of modern society. At the same time, the use of technology has initiated the long-standing debate of technology as a double-edged sword. The full control of humans over technology may be a mere illusion. Since the beginning of the Scientific Revolution, humans have always questioned the role that technology plays in our lives. Many have commented on the flaws and threats of technology. They have advised a cautionary approach when faced with technological advancements. The Sorcerer’s Apprentice (Der Zauberlehrling) serves as an appropriate analogy to illustrate the relationship between humans and science following the Scientific Revolution. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe wrote the poem in 1797. Goethe most likely based his poem on the text by Greek writer Lucian from around AD 150. The story begins with an apprentice of a

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Figure 4.7 lllustration of Der Zauberlehrling, Photo: Ferdinand Barth, CC-PD-Mark.

sorcerer, who stays behind in the master’s workshop to do chores after the sorcerer leaves. Tired of carrying out repetitive tasks, the apprentice uses spells to let the broom fetch water for him. The floor is soon filled with water, but the apprentice is unable to stop the broom. The apprentice splits the broom in half by force but ends up with two brooms fetching water at twice the speed. Finally, the sorcerer returns to stop the brooms and makes the statement that the master should only call upon powerful spirits.70 The oldest variation of the story has been identified as Lucian’s novel Philopseudes, or the Lover of Lies. The story is narrated by the main character, Tychiades, who pays a visit to his ill friend Eucrates. The two friends enter into an argument about the existence of supernatural forces in nature.

Shift  115 The novel consists of a series of ten short stories surrounding the topic, written in the format of dialogues. In the final story, Eucrates describes his trip to Egypt through a ship on the Nile, where he met Pancrates, an Egyptian magician who could use spells to enliven objects. Pancrates taught Eucrates his spells, except for the spell to animate objects. Eucrates happened to overhear the spell and decided to give it a try, even though he had only just grasped the basics of the magic. Eucrates cast a spell on a pestle to fetch water in a bucket but was unable to stop it. Eucrates then tried to stop the spell by cutting the pestle in half with an axe but ended up with two pestles fetching water. At last, Pancrates appeared and stopped the spell, saving Eucrates from drowning. 71 Both Goethe’s poem and Lucian’s story illustrate an incapable individual who exercises the power to solve a problem but is unable to control the power entirely. Again, this story relates to architecture through its connection to technology. Over-confident in their abilities, many fail to maintain control over the tools, and thus their control over nature. The plot can be interpreted as an analogy to the use of technology to solve problems in modern society. Like the apprentice who animates soulless objects to accomplish his tasks, human beings have utilized machines, which lack soul and thinking capacity, to achieve practical ends. Such a situation may result in higher efficiency or increased productivity, but may also lead to the loss of control, to a negligence of human well-being, and unanticipated consequences. The Industrial Revolution instigated many counter-movements and ideas that questioned the emergence of machines and the prevalence of mechanization. The Luddites of the early seventeenth century, for example, consisted of British handicraftsmen who destroyed machinery. They did this to rebel against mechanization, which threatened the jobs and well-being of the workers.72 The Arts and Crafts movement led by Augustus Pugin, John Ruskin, and William Morris in 1880 advocated a rejection of mechanized production of goods, and a return to that which emphasized design and craftsmanship.73 Walter Benjamin argued that mechanical reproduction “withers” the aura of the work of art by stripping away its “essence”; that is, its “presence in time and space.”74 Over recent years, the rise of artificial intelligence raises the debate on the dangers of equipping machines with a thinking mind, which threatens humanity’s ability to control the machines. In summary, humans have always questioned the degree to which technology has eroded our conventional ways of thinking, and have warned against the loss of control that may eventually lead to consequences that turn technology against humanity itself. Rationalization causes disenchantment in most aspects of modernity. However, the existence of the forces of “re-enchantment” has been noted by many as a significant phenomenon that reflects humanity’s continuing efforts to occupy the void previously filled by the mythical, sacred, and magical.75 Traces of heterogeneous elements, or “anomalies,” which appeal to forces beyond the scientific and rational, and evoke mythical and religious

116 Shift qualities, are believed to have always lingered beneath the homogenizing surface of the Enlightenment.76 The nature of such re-enchantment and its relation to disenchantment has been discussed and debated extensively by theorists and philosophers since the birth of modernity. These positions can be broadly characterized into three approaches. The binary model has existed since the seventeenth century, suggesting that re-enchantment is a marginalized phenomenon that is inferior to the rationalization of modernity. Efforts of re-enchantment are thus relegated to a subordinate position to the rational and secular. The dialectical approach, on the other hand, postulates the existence of both disenchantment and re-enchantment in modernity, in that modernity is “inherently irrational,” and is “a mythical construct no less enchanted than the myths it sought to overcome.”77 The final and most recent position, adopted by a new generation of thinkers, proposes that within modernity there exists a wide array of “contradictions, oppositions, and antinomies.”78 The tension that arises as a result of these opposing forces is what yields attempts at re-enchantment that negotiate with disenchantment in various ways in modernity.79 Such tension can be exemplified by efforts of re-enchantment in many human endeavors. In modern science, the ability to rationalize and use scientific knowledge, in turn, leads to wonder, and a persistent desire to learn more about the unknown, which is mythical. In language, re-enchantment is seen in the infinite number of interpretations and perspectives, enabled by the open-endedness of linguistics. In literature, the fascination with the supernatural and magical never ceased to exist, finding its way into novels, tales, and poems that stimulate our limitless imagination. The desire to establish a sense of place through our buildings has always constituted a strong force to re-enchant the built environment.80 In The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, the apprentice’s mistake was resolved by the master, who returned at the end and used magic to restore peace and order. Moreover, the master appeals to supernatural forces through incantation to resolve the issue, allowing him to maintain control over inanimate objects. The story may serve as an analogy to the return of the use of the magical and mythical to solve issues that the rational alone cannot resolve. In other words, the story demonstrates the limitations of science and technology in its use of soulless objects, and suggests that humans can restore the balance that once existed in the world through appealing to the mythical and unknown, or re-enchantment of the world. The process of rationalization and intellectualization has made a substantial impact upon architecture. The influence of scientific knowledge and a human-centered worldview found its way into many writings and works over the following decades. At the beginning of the twentieth century, the emphasis on progress, speed, and advancement enabled by the Scientific Revolution may be found in the works of those such as the Italian Futurists. Le Corbusier wrote in his Towards a New Architecture that “a house is a machine for living in,” underlining the importance of functionality

Shift  117 and efficiency in a dwelling.81 Meanwhile, high-tech architecture celebrates technology through the elaboration of details and structure to demonstrate technological innovations. However, rationalization has also brought detrimental effects to the profession. Standardized construction made possible by technology ensures the efficiency of construction, producing nameless and identical buildings that fulfill the minimal requirements for living. Here, modernist architecture is reduced to a soulless machine, merely fulfilling the functional needs of human habitation. The architect was the apprentice who attempted to meet ends with inanimate objects, which ultimately failed to solve the problem due to the lack of inspiration or soul. Rationalization and scientific advancements have led to an increased emphasis on functionality and efficiency, producing countless examples of architecture that lacks inspiration or a soul. Re-enchantment is evident in the field of architecture, especially after Modernism, where voices are continually raised against the homogenizing construction methods that reduce individuality and expression in architecture. In architecture, forces of “re-enchantment” may be found in the works of architects such as Antonio Gaudi, the later work of Le Corbusier, and Louis Kahn. The works of these prominent architects, in contrast, appeal to the immaterial and immeasurable, and may be viewed as attempts at enchantment in the field. The growing interest in phenomenology and spirituality, led by architects such as Juhani Pallasma and Steven Holl, exemplifies attempts to reinvigorate the immeasurable and mythical in the built environment. The return to magic in architecture will form the topic of discussion in Chapter 5.

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Figure 5.1 The Promontory Apartments in Chicago, Photo: Teemu008, CC-BY-SA-2.0.

Disenchantment affected Modernism in architecture. Modernism was a period of rationality and revolution, and this modern period included a continuing decline in society’s belief in magic and the spiritual, and a general sense of disenchantment in people’s daily lives. Indeed, the architecture

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of the time reflected these changes. An example of this change was the move to a “Modern Architecture” developed at the end of the nineteenth century. It evolved from advances in building technology, materials, and a move away from past architectural styles. The movement’s beliefs included the rejection of ornament and the embrace of minimalism with an analytical approach to the function of buildings. Modernism desired to invent something that was primarily functional and new. Modernist designs were rational in the use of materials and willing to engage in structural innovation. The movement also encompassed other stylistic modes of thought, such as Futurism, Constructivism, De Stijl, and the Bauhaus. Modernism, in its later stage, was also referred to as the International Style, receiving the name following a 1932 exhibition of modernist architecture curated by Philip Johnson.1 Modernism developed into the dominant stylistic and philosophical movement in world architecture during the twentieth century. The intent of this chapter is not to retrace architectural history. Instead, it will attempt to demonstrate how, during the modernist period, various architects still engaged magic in the making of architecture. Although the dominant paradigm of Modernism involved a move to a rational approach, not all architects completely embraced this separation from the spiritual or magical. Thus, this rational approach may not have been as all-pervasive as historians have written. The modern period shows evidence of undercurrents of enchantment. The historian Jason Stephenson-Storm purports that spiritualism was never extinguished. He writes that spiritualism had constant allure and that the “account of modernity as despiritualization itself is a myth.”2 He disagrees with the familiar narrative of science as disenchantment but expresses that science and spiritualism can work together – “that reason does not eliminate ‘superstition’ but piggybacks upon it.”3 Continuing, Stephenson-Storm tells us that spiritualism and enchantment were not a way to “overturn science” but could be seen as a means to “extend its borders.”4 There is evidence that this is also true of architects of the period. The overall social context that encouraged Modernism helped create a form of disenchantment, a disconnect from the magic and spiritual that infused architecture and the design processes of the past. However, to say that Modernism in architecture emerged from disenchantment alone would oversimplify a complex set of beliefs. Modernism in architecture was not a monolithic movement but rather a series of streams, each unique but all flowing in a similar general direction. We will identify and describe several different streams of modernist thinking in relation to re-enchantment.5 We will start by discussing the work of a more traditional architect, Antonio Gaudi, compared to the new modernist. Then we will discuss Vladimir Tatlin as one who believed that modernity was itself enchanted and that the rational and enchantment could be somehow interconnected. Tatlin offers a good example, an architect who embraced Modernism but continued to accept past forms of enchantment. Architects such as Walter Gropius and Ludwig Mies van der Rohe attempted to reject the enchantments of the past. Those who later followed this position believed that such things

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Figure 5.2 Model of Sagrada Família, Barcelona, Photo: Andy Mitchell, CC-BY-SA-2.0.

as enchantment, which included magic, were relics. Unfortunately, this group also included a removal of the past means of connecting architecture to greater meaning. A final direction also appeared, allowing a modern enchantment, one that simultaneously enchants and disenchants, which delights but does not delude.6 The group of architects in this movement realized that architecture must have both the ability to “control nature” rationally and also connect buildings to the immeasurable. As with past chapters, this chapter will comprise seven sections. Each section will describe a differing aspect of the effects of Modernism on the architect as a magician. It will offer examples of architects who remained enchanted by the past and those who became disenchanted. It will also discuss architects who became disenchanted with the past but who recognized the importance of enchantment in their work. Finally, it will describe those who, when realizing the difficulties of disenchantment, re-engaged the use of magic in their architecture.

I Antonio Gaudi y Cornet’s (1852–1926) architectural designs remained enchanted with the Divine. His work was developed within a well- established, highly controlled system of analogies, wherein a Catholic God was seen as

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an explanation of the immeasurable. We noted in the introduction that religion could be seen as nearly identical to magic. The question may be asked: if this is so, then how did Gaudi use such religion-based magic in creating his designs, and was it any different than how a magician would use it? Gaudi was a Barcelona architect whom many historians believe was not involved with any specific movement; others place him as a member of the Catalan Art Nouveau or modernist movement. Typically, historians, such as Helen Gardner, explain that Gaudi “strove mightily to create forms utterly divorced from tradition and as close as possible to the randomness of nature.”7As a Catholic, Gaudi would have believed that nature would have been brought about by or related to supernatural powers. Representing nature could then be considered a magical act of re-creating the work of the Divine. Here Gaudi may have wished to break free from the human-created forms of the past and to reproduce more directly his interpretations of the traditional Catholic view of the immeasurable. In this way, Gaudi’s work may be considered quite conservative, not radical, but rather an attempt to infuse new wonder into the traditional. This position is supported by the historian Cesar Martinell, in his book Gaudi: His Life, His Theories, His Work. He insists on recognizing Gaudi as primarily an architect, and he is impatient with those who would see Gaudi as some modern painter, abstract artist, or surrealist.8 Martinell places Gaudi’s architecture within the mainstream of the architectural theory of his time. It is critical to ask whether Gaudi’s architectural designs also support Martinell’s position. A good example supporting this position is Gaudi’s most important piece of architecture, the Sagrada Família (Church of the Holy Family) in Barcelona, on which he began work in 1884 and continued to work for 42 years until his death.9 It is well documented that Gaudi relied on small-scale models in his design process. These models were white plaster devices, hanging wire, or chain models used to study complex geometric shapes. It is appropriate to ask what Gaudi’s small-scale models represent. The architectural theorist, Dalibor Vesely, may offer an answer when he describes the general question of representation during the several centuries before Gaudi. [T]he belief shared by artists and scientists during the critical period of transition, was that the true order of reality was mathematical and that mathematical forms were, therefore, the most adequate representation of the universe. Kepler’s and Newton’s cosmologies were developed to represent a hidden universal order. “The Christians know,” says Kepler in his Harmonices Mundi, “that the mathematical principles according to which the corporeal world was to be created as co-eternal with God… [held] that reality was mathematical in its nature”.10 This Christian position, emerging out of the beginning of the modern period – the Renaissance – according to Kepler, maintains that humans are searching for the definition of invisible, immeasurable things. It concedes that religion, technology, science, and art share the belief that mathematical

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forms are an acceptable and correct method of representing the truth of the primary explanation for immeasurable things (such as a Catholic God). This position, by definition, is theurgical and, therefore, a magical act. Gaudi believed that mathematical forms were a correct method with which to measure and scale the Divine. He states, A tetrahedron, with unlimited faces, is the synthesis of infinite space. The first of these surfaces could symbolize the trinity while the second represents light and the third movement. The paraboloid is generated by a straight line that slides along two others. If we imagine the three straight lines to be infinite, the first can symbolize the Holy Ghost that is the union between the Father and the Son represented by the other two straight lines. The infinite three form a totality, which is one, indivisible and infinite – qualities which coincide with the essence of the Holy Trinity.11 Gaudi, with his theurgical approach, used geometry to create a clear framework on which to base his understanding of immeasurable things. He had a strong relationship with and a deep understanding of Catholicism, and it is impossible to separate his religion from his work completely.12 Catholicism offered Gaudi a well-defined belief system within which to live his life. In addition to his religion, Gaudi was substantially influenced by the work of Viollet-le-Duc. Martinell explains this position when he writes, “Violletle-Duc proudly acknowledged his debt to French intellectual tradition and particularly to the rationalism of Descartes. Like Descartes, he was determined to isolate a single generative principle that could explain the world in all its complexity.”13 Gaudi, like Viollet-le-Duc, clearly believed that geometry was an essential generative principle. Martinell records Gaudi as stating: When speaking of geometric form, we usually think of those that are polyhedral, with flat faces. However, there is no reason to exclude other geometrically generated forms that are more perfect. The polyhedral forms, which have been labeled “geometric,” in a mindless exclusivism, are hardly abundant in nature. Even those which man constructs as a plane (doors, tables, boards) tend, with time, to warp into parabolic forms.14 Gaudi attempted to take his understanding of these geometric forms to a new level of complexity, and drawings must have appeared lacking. He may have needed to observe these complex forms three-dimensionally, as they appear. Gaudi realized that if geometric shapes were studied twodimensionally as in drawings, they would be affected by that form of representation. For this reason, he built plaster and hanging wire scale models: they operated as advanced studies in geometrical form. It is also possible that Gaudi’s scale models were engineering studies used to explain his complicated ideas to others. Since Gaudi was raised in a craftsman’s tradition and was a master engineer, he had an extensive

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understanding of materials. Therefore, it would seem highly unlikely that he would have been seduced into the trap of believing that his small-scale models were a reliable means of directly identifying a material’s strength. Gaudi, well versed in natural forms, most likely used these models to explore the possibilities of nature’s engineering and not as a direct method of testing material strengths. Gaudi both believed sincerely in and trusted his beliefs. Cesar Martinell, a close acquaintance of Gaudi, states, “I heard him say various times, basing himself on Saint Augustine and Saint John, that beauty is the radiance of truth, or, in other words, without truth, there can be no beauty.”15 Juan-Eduardo Cirlot writes, “Gaudi’s work can be considered an advance on traditional architecture in the direction of new architectonic structures based on mechanics and his experiments with catenary curves.” Cirlot concludes, “We can only say that Gaudi’s aesthetic ideology coincided with Schoenberg’s belief that one should copy a scientific principle to its utmost

Figure 5.3 Vladimir Tatlin in Front of the Model for the Third International, Source: Nikolai Punin, CC-PD-Mark

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conclusions, especially when the scientific principle appears to be the profane version of a higher truth beyond our understanding.”16 Gaudi believed that beauty emanates from the truth, and it appears that he searched for that truth through his architectural forms. For Gaudi, the truth about immeasurable things was well defined within the traditions of the Catholic Church. It seems that Gaudi employed his scale models not only to design buildings but also to develop definitions of the truth and perfection of God’s beautiful natural forms. Gaudi likely believed that his models contained almost spiritual significance, relatively similar to religious icons. It is interesting that as Gaudi designed Sagrada Família, he lived virtually monk-like in its basement surrounded by his icon-like models. For him, they operated within a trusted general definition of immeasurable things as set by the Church. These well-defined traditions allowed Gaudi the freedom to focus and reinterpret his designs within an already well-developed system explaining the immeasurable and could be considered theurgical magic.

II Vladimir Tatlin’s (1885–1953) model of the Monument of the Third International was one of the centerpieces of the Constructivist movement and is an example of enchantment utilizing prior forms of magic. The monument was created in a developing political system, communism, a system in which analogies to God, as defined by the Russian Orthodox Church, were unacceptable. The constructivists were constructing the definition of a communist society, the new and developing way in which they viewed the world. This new system required new analogies not only to define the new political system but also to explain the immeasurable. New means for architects to define their evolving cosmos needed to be formulated or previous acceptable ones reworked. Tatlin’s Tower model offers an interesting example that rejected the religion of the time and replaced it with a return to astrological, alchemical, and other magically related symbolism. In this development, Tatlin’s model played a central role. The architectural historian Leonardo Benevolo writes concerning changes brought about by new rational thinking: World War I reshaped the political map of Europe and left all the participants with significant problems of social and environmental reconstruction. In Russia, the October revolution had opened up enormous new possibilities, which found expression in the projects of the constructivists. However, for the most part, the projects remained on paper. Soviet constructivists designed for anything and everything that might have a bearing on the construction of a communist society, from worker’s clothing, and agitprop posters to Tatlin’s Tower.17 Tatlin designed and built a maquette in the intensely creative aftermath of the Bolshevik Revolution, his projected massive, 1500-foot-high tower. It

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was the only building that the famous Russian Cubo-Futurist artist was ever to project.18 Trained as an artist, he had little engineering background; his model was not considered a serious engineering study. It was an attempt at defining the theoretical position of communism. As an artist/architect during this period, Tatlin would have been presented with two critical issues. The first was that the avant-garde movements before World War I were individualist and aristocratic, while Soviet society was collectivist and popular.19 The second concerned the conflict between the technical and ideological aspects of architecture. 20 These issues and conflicts arose due to the developing nature of Marxist doctrine. The resulting lack of definition in the new trusted social order also led to fewer restrictions on how it was interpreted, defined, and represented through the new and developing architecture. Benevolo writes, Even in the main current of the Russian avant-garde constructivism, there was an insoluble antagonism between technical matters and ideology. The work of architecture should respond fully to material utility and at the same time, should express the new political ideas in emotional terms: the concrete results were heavily contrived, spectacular designs, like Tatlin’s famous plan for the monument to the Third International of 1919. 21 Tatlin’s Tower may be seen as an attempt to reconcile the objective material aspect and the subjective emotional aspect of his new system of government. Tatlin designed his tower model during an exciting but chaotic and dangerous period of massive social upheaval. Artistically and politically, he must have been in a tenuous position while building this very visible tower model. In the first place, his previous artistic work would have been considered individualist and, therefore, unacceptable in the new order of the day. As a believer in communism, he would have felt compelled to work artistically within this system. Second, this was Tatlin’s first attempt at producing architecture, a complex field. In a 1920 pamphlet, Nikolai Punins wrote: The main idea of the monument… was to comprise a new type of monumental construction, combining a purely creative form with a utilitarian form. In agreement with this principle, the monument consists of three great rooms in glass, erected with the help of a complicated system of vertical pillars and spirals. These rooms are placed on top of each other and have different, harmonically corresponding forms. They are to be able to move at different speeds utilizing a unique mechanism. The lower story, which is cubic, rotates around its axis at a rate of one revolution per year. This story is intended for legislative assemblies. The next story, which is pyramidal, rotates around its axis at a speed of one revolution per month. Here the executive bodies are

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Four points will further explain the importance of Tatlin’s model. First, Tatlin’s Tower acts as a blank screen for focusing and measuring the collective will of the Soviet people. It also serves as a social alembic for distilling this will and projecting it back to the masses. John Milner has likened the double spiral to the caduceus symbol of Hermes, the messenger of the gods and god of magic. 23 As conceived, the Tower has a strong resemblance to a radio tower, and indeed Tatlin planned to have a radio and telegraph station included in the structure. Projectors would have flashed news onto blank screens located throughout the structure. These projections would have engaged and reflected the will of the masses in the interpretation and definition of the new communist agenda. Second, the Tower has been associated with astrology and alchemy, both of which maintain a tradition of mental projection. El Lissitzky’s photomontage of Tatlin working on the Monument to the Third International may be likened to a famous alchemical illustration in which the alchemist is in the same position as Tatlin. The Tower’s plan could be compared to the alchemical symbol of the “Squaring of the Circle.” There is one crucial difference between these two illustrations. The cross of the Church lies at the

Figure 5.4 “Tatlin at Work”, by El Lissitzki, and Alchemist, “Squaring of the Circle”, Both images CC-PD-Mark

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feet of the alchemist, while Tatlin holds the utilitarian lever. No longer was the standard set by the Church, but a new one was to be defined through the mechanism of the developing communist state. The Tower is also strongly related to the human body. Milner writes, “Tatlin’s Tower model, when seen as an image of collective man, relates to the anatomy of the social body.”24 He also writes: Tatlin’s Tower, even if it does contain figurative elements, cannot be described as specific. Nevertheless, there is more than a metaphorical resemblance, for Tatlin’s Tower employs a spine, legs, rib cage, and vital organs that move… a hyper-human, the human form of the collective identity. It is more than a symbolic object. Tatlin’s Tower provides an image of the social macrocosm. 25 Tatlin, through his tower, may have attempted to represent the concept of the universal human in a non-figurative way. Finally, Tatlin’s Tower operates as a lever. In this manifestation, Tatlin’s Tower may be likened to the axis-mundi, which was created by thrusting a staff into the earth and thus creating a fixed point of the central axis for all future orientation. The Tower was to be pointed directly at the North Star, a fixed point in the heavens. “The discovery or projection of a fixed point – the center – is equivalent to the creation of the world. The work of the gods, the universe is repeated and imitated by men on their own scale.”26 Tatlin tilted his tower because he wished it not to be considered purely as an axis-mundi, but more as that most utilitarian of machines, the lever. It was the goal of the Third International to move the world into Marxism. Tatlin’s Tower served much like the lever and center from which the world could be moved. It is described in a legend that Archimedes told King Hieron: “Give me a point of support (fulcrum), and I shall move the world.”27 Tatlin, the Marxist, would have agreed. Tatlin’s Tower was meant to be a lever to move the world. The fulcrum is the Tower model with the magical symbolism of astrology, alchemy, and universal man created by the will of the people, not the Church’s definition of God moving the lever.

III The German Bauhaus architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe was a leader of the modernist style of the early twentieth century. His work represents a movement that purported rational and unornamented architecture. He never wholly resolved the rational approach of disenchantment with the spiritual aspects of his work. Mies was a director of the Bauhaus in Weimar Germany, a school which successfully united fine art and the crafts creating a new approach to design. 28 He was forced to leave the school when it was closed in 1933 as a result of pressure from the Nazi regime. Part of his early experience influenced the formation of Modernism, as he had worked for Peter Behrens

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designing industrial buildings. After immigrating to the United States, he assumed an academic role and advocated an unadorned, simple architecture that embraced modern technology and was primarily built of steel and glass. The approach was to make “art seem rational as if it were science.”29 This new rational architecture became a Miesian formula of “material discipline; tectonic integrity; structural clarity; spatial fluidity; and geometric simplicity.”30 When heading the school of architecture (later to become the Illinois Institute of Technology (IIT)), Mies advocated a rational and functional architecture. He wrote about Modernism as being part of its times: “I am not interested in the history of civilization, I am interested in our civilization. We are living it. Because I really believe, after a long time of working and thinking and studying that architecture … can only express this civilization we are in and nothing else.”31 However, such a purely functional approach to architecture may have made Mies uncomfortable. He also felt a need to imbue his architecture with something beyond mere function – something that he refers to as the spiritual factors of our day. In his inaugural address at the IIT in 1938, he said, We must remember that everything depends on how we use a material, not on the material itself. … New Materials are not necessarily superior. Each material is only what we make of it. … We must be as familiar with the function of our buildings as with our materials. We must learn what a building can be, what it should be, and also what if must not be. … And just as we acquaint ourselves with materials, just as we must understand functions, so we must become familiar with the psychological and spiritual factors of our day. No cultural activity is possible otherwise; for we are dependent on the spirit of our time. 32 Mies is also credited with the phrase “God is in the details.” This phrase suggests that he felt the need to add a spiritual dimension to his stark, stripped-down steel-and-glass constructions. Possibly the details became the “ornament” that gave his buildings meaning. Mies could still be considered a magician as he “controlled nature.”33 He also attempted to provide a spiritual meaning to his architecture by evoking a divine reference. However, those who followed Mies may have fallen into thoughtless replication devoid of architectural meaning, keeping them from their roles of “architects as magicians.” Modernism in architecture was conflicted with contradictions. It emerged from Marxism but was embraced around the world by the post-World War II building boom. This period of manufacturing meant mass production, and architecture was part of this trend. Like the Ancient Greek temples it encouraged copying without understanding, and soon it was replicated around the world. What emerged in Mies’ wake was the International Style that created a rejection of enchantment. In 1930 Henry-Russell Hitchcock and Philip Johnson, both architectural historians and critics, joined the architecture department of the Museum of Modern Art in New York. In 1932 they curated the museum’s first

Loss 131 architectural exhibition entitled Architecture: International Exhibition. This exhibition on the new International Style included work by Walter Gropius, Le Corbusier, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, J.J.P. Oud, Frank Lloyd Wright, and Alvar Aalto. Hitchcock and Johnson identified three principles uniting this style. The first was an expression of volume rather than mass. The second was the emphasis on balance rather than symmetry. The third was the exclusion of applied ornament. The Style included an extreme simplification of form with the adoption of glass, steel, and concrete as preferred materials. It also included the building’s transparency, expression of structure, and use of industrial mass-production methods. Finally, this type of architecture presented a machine aesthetic and logical design decisions that supported the building’s function. Those following the International Style believed, like Adolf Loos, that the use of ornament was a crime, the work should be true to materials, that form follows function; and that a house was a “machine for living.” These ideas developed into the dominant style of architecture following World War II. The new International Style developed several problems for its many followers. Far too many copied the style of Modernism without understanding. For example, in the political environment of Marxism and Fascism, creating the style was very different from that in the West. Combined with this disconnection, it also lost touch with the meanings developed over many centuries in Classical architecture. This is understandable, as it may have been a reaction to the forced copying of ornamentation required by the Beaux-Arts system of the Academy. The International Style wanted to move away from “ornamented” architecture that had lost meaning and potency. There were also strong economic reasons driving the style. After the war, there was a pressing need to build and rebuild. Factories that had produced armaments on a massive scale could now turn to provide the materials for buildings. This led to a building boom that required buildings to be constructed quickly and inexpensively in steel, reinforced concrete, and glass.

IV However, there was also a stream of enchanted Modernism created by architects who accepted the combination of the rational movement of Modernism and the International Style with enchantment. This section will discuss four of these architects. Luis Barragán, Alvar Aalto, Eero Saarinen, and Carlo Scarpa actively engaged the new rational style but also injected their architecture with a sense of magic through the enchanting qualities of historical reference, regional and cultural attitudes, the use of materials that alluded to enchantment, and the metaphors that evoked magical qualities in their work. Many architects of this period may have likewise engaged magic, but the above architects are particularly good examples because they were able to work within the existing paradigm of Modernism, and yet were recognized as providing unique magical qualities to the buildings they designed.

132 Loss One good example of an architect who embraced Modernism and also demonstrated aspects of enchantment and magic is the 1980 Pritzker prize-winning Mexican architect Luis Barragán. His architecture consists of modernist simplicity using geometric masses. The planar walls usually intersect at 90 degrees, and openings are rectangular cutouts. His projects were primarily residential and small scale with such buildings as the Convento de las Capuchinas Sacramentarias and the San Cristóbal Estates equestrian development, both in Mexico City.34 Many of his projects successfully integrate architecture with water, looking to historical Mexican landscapes. In addition to his devotion to modernist ideals, he also referenced historical and cultural aspects of the region where he lived and practiced. To provide an additional layer to the typical rational style, Barragán used the bright, warm colors of Mexico, such as brilliant yellows and intensely rich blues, pinks, and oranges. In describing his architecture, he stated his ideals in words such as amazement, enchantment, serenity, silence, and intimacy.35 To locate this sense of regional identity, he used vernacular materials such as adobe, timber, and limewash, along with the deep shadows and reflected light so distinctive of Latin America.36 Deeply religious, Barragán wrote critically of the overly rational architecture of the period and stated that “In alarming proportions, the following words have disappeared from architectural publications; beauty, inspiration, magic, sorcery, enchantment, and also serenity, mystery, silence, privacy, astonishment. All of these have found a loving home in my soul.”37 Using concepts of magic, he was attempting to connect his architecture to the regional culture as a law of contagion. To relate the architecture to the region, he was creating emotional spaces that caused the inhabitants to contemplate mystery and wonder. He was bringing the sacred to his secular spaces in a magical act. The Finnish architect Alvar Aalto was committed to a modernist style but approached his architecture from a regional and material-specific perspective. His architecture reflects his interest in buildings that consider human use first and foremost.38 He wrote: “the ultimate goal of the architect … is to create a paradise. Every house, every product of architecture … should be a fruit of our endeavor to build an earthly paradise for people.”39 Using simple modernist cubes, Aalto integrates the nature of Finland into his buildings with warm regional woods. One of his most notable buildings is the Villa Mairea. The exterior reveals plain surfaces that are softened by strips of teak and other woods. The natural woods are continued into the interior to create a sensory richness that brings “the material world into harmony with human life.”40 It is clear that Aalto understood the prevailing architectural style of his period, especially with the rational rectangular floor plan, but he needed to connect his buildings to the emotional aspects of nature. Reflecting magic’s traditional law of similarity, Aalto’s use of wood represents an effect that resembles its cause. Calling up common and natural materials engages the inhabitants’ experience of nature to contemplate a connection to an experiential world. He was materializing the immaterial by translating a natural world into architecture. His control and reuse of wood is a symbolic

Loss 133 and magical act that can be comprehended, consciously, or subconsciously, by the inhabitants of his buildings. In this way, Aalto was redefining the rational approach of Modernism and encouraging inhabitants to wonder about the role of architecture in a natural world. Aalto felt that “form must have a content, and that content must be linked with nature.”41 Carlo Scarpa, the Italian architect, offers an excellent example of a modernist whose work remained enchanted by the rituals of his environment. Scarpa was influenced by the materials, landscape, and history of Venetian culture. While much of the formal aspects of the modernist’s theory was of interest to Scarpa, his designs were greatly influenced by ideas from history and regionalism.42 However, such influences placed his work outside of the social, economic, and functional aspects of International Modernism. Venice, Italy, remains a city of craft, walking, vistas and alleyways, and of water. For Scarpa, the rituals formed by his beloved city greatly influenced his work. Detail and measure are a part of Venetian life. The city itself was always in a cycle of constant decay and renewal, containing layers of history that proved difficult to complete restoration. Scarpa made clear his attitude to restoration when he stated: They order you to imitate the style of ancient windows, forgetting that those windows were produced in different times by a different way of life with “windows” made of other materials in other styles and with a different way of making windows. Anyway, stupid imitations of that sort always look mean. Buildings that imitate look like humbugs, and that’s just what they are.43 The ways the building’s inhabitants engage a window, wall, or entrance influence the rituals of their lives. Would it not also be logical that Scarpa believed that reworking the rituals of Venice’s past within his building designs was also necessary for the inhabitants? Anthropologists Marcel Mauss and James Frasier both connect ritual and magic. The anthropologist Roy Rappaport’s cultural studies stressed how such rituals reflect fundamental notions about the world, and the true meaning of the universe or an ideal. For anthropologist Victor Turner, rituals are ways to understand things that are not known. It can be seen that both ritual and magic offer a way to understand shared assumptions that attempt to explain the truth inherent in phenomena and the invisible. Eero Saarinen was a Finnish American architect who is now considered one of the masters of American twentieth-century architecture. His architectural projects offer examples of the magical laws of contagion or similarity while making us wonder about immeasurable things. It is known that Saarinen adapted the designs of these projects to each client and project, which were never the same. He is known for designing the Gateway Arch, Missouri, Washington Dulles International Airport, and the TWA Flight Center. These are buildings whose forms strongly represent the entry to the American West or the idea of flight. Saarinen’s work on these projects shows

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his ability to represent and define immeasurable things through analogies that make one think about the world beyond. For example, the TWA building is in the form of outstretched wings representing the technology of flight, or the St. Louis Arch represents an understanding of humanity’s place in the world as a gateway between East and West. The wings may be interpreted as a reassuring metaphorical talisman to those boarding the relatively new commercial use of airplanes. Using such representations was not a purely functional act as recommended by Modernism but remain enchanted with a search for greater things. Saarinen states, “The purpose of architecture is to shelter and enhance man’s life on earth and to fulfill his belief in the nobility of his existence.”44 About his designs, Saarinen related, I have come to the conviction that once one embarks on a concept for a building, this concept has to be exaggerated and overstated and repeated in every part of its interior so that wherever you are, inside or outside, the building sings with the same message.45 For Saarinen, the message was connected to things that enchant the inhabitants of his buildings. Saarinen’s buildings offer a wonderful vision that humans can control nature through technology or that we can mark our place in the world in an orderly way.

V Now we will turn to whom many consider to be the greatest master of modernist architecture, Le Corbusier. Although Le Corbusier is often thought of as an architect with a keen interest in the technological and

Figure 5.5 Notre-Dame du Haut at Ronchamp Designed by Le Corbusier, Photo: Iantomferry, CC-BY-SA-4.0.

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mechanical ideologies found within architecture, much of his work was deeply rooted in spiritual and metaphysical symbolism. His work, imbued with his concept of the méchanique spirituelle, powerfully conveys his belief “that architecture and art must go beyond the scientific, empirical imperative of materialism or mechanical laws. To ensure this transcendental artistic level in the face of a rampant mechanical aptitude and the ingenuity of modern technological society and industry.”46 This concept was relatively innovative for its time, since architecture seemed to be transforming into a discipline much focused on the mechanical. “The technological seems to be the more important historical alternative at the time, because of its precise mathematical calculation about real, concrete issues.”47 During this period, when many have thought architecture may be entering a time of disenchantment, Le Corbusier, through his concepts, writing, painting, and architecture, has shown that architecture is still very much an enchanted discipline. “Although throughout his career Le Corbusier tried to balance the respective roles of the hard materialist, the engineer, and the artist, whether architect, painter or sculptor, there was always an implied tension toward a dominance that favored the artistic, or what he called the ‘spiritual.’”48 He was very interested in the concept of dessin; as it is said that “the Beaux-Arts tradition of dessin that provides the background for Le Corbusier’s attempt to go beyond the realm of the physical sciences.”49 “In the last major phase of Le Corbusier’s development, from 1947–48 to his death in 1965, the dualistic range of his thought was dialectically synthesized by a transcendent symbolic process using mythological ideas and images from the occult sciences of alchemy and astrology.”50 These disciplines were exemplified in both his writings and paintings. Many of these were also the inspiration for his architecture. The Poem of the Right Angle, also known as Le Poème de l’Angle Droit, is perhaps one of the best examples of magical notions conveyed through painting and writing, which would then eventually transcend his architecture. This piece has the number seven interwoven several times, including the seven-year period during which the book was written and the piece’s seven sections. These sections divide into “the letters A B C D E F G [which] clearly signify the hidden magical Septenary,” as noted by Carl Jung.51 This number seven through Le Poème de l’Angle Droit permeated Le Corbusier’s architecture, especially in L’Unite d’Habitation, where he chose to design the residential complex for the seven ages of humans. Simultaneously, Le Corbusier was developing his traffic system within Marseilles, where there were seven routes or roads. Furthermore, similar artwork was installed in his iconic architecture, such as the seven-section mural painted on the interior of his Swiss Pavilion following the war. “The most complete utilization of the fully developed symbolism of the Poème occurred with the creation of … [Notre Dame] Ronchamp.”52 Perhaps Le Corbusier’s most iconic piece of architecture, Ronchamp, is described as an “ambitious project of capturing space as a celestial process

136 Loss discovered when looking up.”53 The form of Ronchamp, as a whole, is filled with zodiac cosmology, and, when interpreted, it is quite remarkable how Le Corbusier was successful in translating abstract celestial phenomena into concrete form in his architecture. One of the main architectural features of Ronchamp is the southern roof profile, which many believe is representative of a Capricorn horn, a celestial sign. “The great prow-like thrust of the southern roof profile almost certainly represents Capricorn’s single horn, the Cornucopia, a motif characteristic of Capricorn when portrayed as a unicorn,” a magical creature.54 There is an abrupt termination of the wall disturbing the smooth geometry of the roofline on the easternmost section of the northern side of the building which potentially “suggests that the sun’s meridian is like the philosopher’s sword that cleaves the philosopher’s egg, creating a new stage for the transformational matter.”55 Using these images was an intended move on the part of Le Corbusier so that at certain times of the day, and during different seasons, how light plays off the form of the building appears somewhat magical. Le Corbusier had an interest in alchemy and used the study of alchemy to influence seemingly uncontrollable phenomena in his architecture. “The alchemical act of turning the cold, dry and unproductive qualities of winter into the warm, moist, and fructifying properties of spring is crystallized by the point juncture of the southeastern corner where the southern and eastern roofs meet at one point.”56 The alchemical and astrological references found throughout Ronchamp are also integrated into the main structure of the building. The magical number seven was the number of large cross numbers, “which Le Corbusier says generated the building.”57 The symbolism found in his artwork and architecture either artistically or formally reaffirms Le Corbusier’s interest in something celestial, abstract, and non-attainable translated into something real and concrete through his designs. Le Corbusier had the unique ability to translate something so seemingly non-tangible into architectural form through the use of his concept of the spirituelle. Similar to the design choice which Le Corbusier made for Ronchamp, Chandigarh “is dominated, like Ronchamp by a vertical planning coordinate system that carries the viewer’s attention from terrestrial to celestial phenomena.”58 The mural inside the assembly building on the site includes magical symbolism where in the middle right of the artwork there is the bowed head of the Minotaur bearing a single unicorn-like horn and facing the left like the waxing moon, represents spring … not only is the relation to Capricorn emphasized here by the Minotaur’s single horn, but Capricorn, supplying the horn motif of the Cornucopia, is sometimes configured as a licorn, or unicorn.59 The outside mural of the assembly building also contains magical symbolism with reference to Le Corbusier’s fascination with alchemy and the number seven. There are large concentric bands of color at the bottom area

Loss  137 of the mural, which is bisected by what appears to be an alchemical tree. Le Corbusier states, “one observes the three sets of horn-like branches coming out of the tree, each terminated with a symbol and, including the branch at the top of the tree, summing to the mystical number seven.”60 In both Chandigarh and Ronchamp, Le Corbusier manifests the movement of the sun in winter and summer where the tree in the lower half of the outside mural becomes a vertical axis projecting onto the top half to gauge the respective limits, high and low, of the sun’s movement in summer and winter. This symbolic function is mirrored, as at Ronchamp, in the pivoting suspension of the door which is rotationally balanced on its central axis.61 The assembly portico also contains excellent symbolic references, where one discovers the cosmic astrological symbolism of the Taurus bull in the shape of the eight piers that hold up the aqueduct-like canopy of the portico roof. … The alchemical zodiacal symbolism of the portico, which synthesizes the end and front of the building into one theme, is embodied in the number seven, internally articulated with a three-four

Figure 5.6 K imbell Art Museum Fort Worth Galleries, Photo: Andreas Praefcke, PD-Self.

138 Loss distinction. Although there are eight piers, one should concentrate on the seven spaces which are formed by the arrangement of the piers.62 Le Corbusier often referred to himself through a unique self-portrait of a libra, his zodiac symbol. Libra is a symbol of balance, which is a strong characteristic of his architecture. Much of his architecture revolves around a balance of celestial and terrestrial phenomena. It also included the technological and the spiritual, which is conveyed through his concrete form with symbolic reference. “In the last stage of the symbolism of Le Corbusier’s méchanique spirituelle, having been amplified by alchemical processes of transformation becomes architecturally concrete, and the architecture itself becomes symbolic.”63 These symbolic references in his work often made tangible to users of the building seemingly non-tangible references to astrological and alchemical symbols, a seemingly impossible and deeply magical trait for a designer, alchemy being long connected to magic as a bridge between science and the occult. Le Corbusier appears to have used alchemy as a mechanism to employ magic in his art and architecture.

VI Louis Kahn was an influential architect of the modernist movement who persistently sought enchantment in his architecture. Kahn’s work and philosophy delineate him as a magician who both controlled nature rationally and connected to the immeasurable through his architecture. Throughout his career, Kahn regarded architectural design as the translation of the unmeasurable, as regulated by the order or natural laws, into tangible buildings. A successful building, he writes, “must begin with the unmeasurable, must go through measurable means when it is being designed and in the end, must be unmeasurable.”64 Kahn’s early ideas were reactions against the strict objectivity and rationality of the International Style. He emphasized feeling and intuition and sought to integrate both feelings, thinking to enhance the creative process. 65 Kahn believed in the architect’s mission to create beautiful and meaningful spaces.66 This section will discuss several important themes of Kahn’s work and philosophy to demonstrate how he is a prominent force of enchantment in architecture during the modernist movement. Kahn wrote extensively on the concept of the measurable and the unmeasurable to explain creativity in the architectural design process. The concept expresses his belief in the spiritual realm of architectural design. A building does not merely exist, but a higher realm must guide its conception. He differentiates the poet, who composes under the forces of the unmeasurable throughout the process, from the scientist. The scientist is interested in knowing objectively instead of engaging with the unmeasurable. Kahn believed that “there is nothing about man that is really measurable. He is completely unmeasurable… He employs the measurable to make it possible for him to express something.”67 The architect must engage with

Loss  139 the unmeasurable and be able to express it through their architecture. In other words, a building in its end state must have a soul that stems from the architect’s efforts to imbue it with mystical and enchanting qualities. Kahn’s concept of silence and light abstracted and metaphorically expressed his notion of the measurable and the unmeasurable. He defined silence as “the unmeasurable, desire to be, desire to express, the source of new need.”68 He described silence as a “void” or “emptiness” that acts as a beginning and has the potential to spark creation.69 Light exists in close relationship to silence. Kahn wrote: “Light is really the source of all being,” the “giver of all presence.”70 He viewed light as bringing expression into concrete existence, and therefore, all materials are spent light. Light metaphorically denotes the measurable, the tangible aspect of architecture that realizes the unmeasurable. Bridging between silence and light is inspiration, where the desire to express is concretized into tangible being. Inspiration is a product of the mind where the soul and spirit exist.71 Inspiration is guided by realization, which Kahn defined as the “transcendence” of thought and feeling.72 Similarities exist between Kahn’s theories regarding the unmeasurable in the architectural design process and the philosophy of Carl Jung. Kahn’s concept of the unmeasurable, for example, may be said to be parallel to Jung’s idea of archetypes. Human beings are collectively born with a set of “primordial images” which exist outside of one’s consciousness, but still influence one’s conscious thoughts and behaviors.73 Similarly, Kahn believed that people are born with a knowledge of the universe and collectively share a set of archetypal images, including myths, art, and dreams. The creative process relies on such collective knowledge to reach a state of realization when all things begin to fall into place.74 Light is a central theme in Kahn’s work. His theory of silence and light, and particularly his use of the word light as a metaphor to express the immeasurable, demonstrates his recognition of the spiritual quality of light.75 Kahn wrote that “Light is really the source of all being,” the “giver of all presence.”76 Light reveals the structure of architecture, and, conversely, structure materializes light. Natural light also varies by the time of day, weather, season, and location. Its temporal dimension gives spaces distinctive characters and moods throughout the day.77 Therefore, he believed that no space could be considered as space architecturally unless it has natural light, which gives a space the “life-giving touch.”78 The Kimbell Museum reveals Kahn’s fascination with light. The spaces are designed to reveal the metaphysical and enchanting qualities of natural light. The reception of light by the museum spaces, through elements such as skylights and surfaces, has been carefully designed and calibrated to record the mystical dimension of natural light.79 Light is a fundamental element to imbue enchantment in his architecture. Kahn’s notion of form and order reflects his belief in a higher order in nature that guides all human creation. Order is “the fundamental, immutable

140 Loss law that governs the organization of natural structures.”80 Order is intangible and permeates all elements in nature, existing at “a level of creative consciousness, forever becoming higher in level.”81 All building materials and elements have their order, giving rise to their intrinsic qualities. The architect must listen to the order, be faithful to it, in order to conceive architectural spaces that follow the order of nature and reflect “what it wants to be.”82 Form, on the other hand, was used by Kahn to describe “the essence created by a certain relationship of elements in a whole.”83 He regarded form as “the realization of nature, made up of inseparable elements” which “has no presence” and exists in the mind.84 In other words, form is an abstract ideal that is brought into architecture through design. Form and order co-exist in the design process to guide architects in realizing the essence of the space. Creating such form and order is a theurgical act on Kahn’s part. Kahn described the architectural design process in three stages based on his ideas on creativity and the human psyche. In his letter to Anne Tyng in 1953, he described the creative process in three phases: nature of space, order, and design. After receiving a design brief one begins with the “nature of space,” which entails a search that is “beyond history and beyond a memory of any specific form.” It involves asking the essential question: “what the space wants to be.” The search opens up countless possibilities from which one must probe through to find directions. The next phase is “order,” where one arrives at an abstract idea that can give form to the intangible. Kahn calls order “the seed,” emphasizing its mysterious quality by stating, “Order is.” Finally, “order” is concretized into reality by “design,” which tailors the ideal based on circumstances such as site, budget, and program. Kahn’s description reflects the often unexplainable moments of discovery and realization during the design process. As we stated earlier, the creation of order is a magical act. As an architect, Kahn controlled nature rationally through his buildings. He employed geometry and order to create harmony according to natural laws, and at the same time connected the buildings to the immeasurable. Like many architects who came before, Kahn recognizes that geometry allows humans to access the order of the universe. Anne Tyng, Kahn’s longtime collaborator, describes the use of geometry in Kahn’s work as “profound sources for making space,” which “transcend limitations of time and space.”85 Kahn describes his use of geometry to be less concerned with “purity of geometry,” but more focused on its “psychological entity.” Following his belief in a higher order that guides creation, he believed that knowledge of geometry exists within man as we are “agents of nature,” which grants us an understanding of geometry to unconsciously guide us in our design.86 In other words, the employment of geometry is not an entirely rational process, but again, relies on the intuition and the subconscious mind. The Indian Institute of Management (IIM) in Ahmedabad illustrates Kahn’s ability to achieve timeless architecture through the creation of mystical experiences with geometry. From the beginning, Kahn was inspired by the typology of the monastery. A monastery is a place where all members

Loss  141 share a strong sense of community. Kahn had a vision of a “complete learning environment” consisting of a variety of informal spaces to accommodate a wide range of academic activities.87 As with many of Kahn’s works, geometry was employed to delineate a logical relationship between multiple programs. At IIM, Kahn devised the plan using diagonal disposition of programs instead of following an orthogonal grid. He linked the student dormitories with the school functions through covered hallways, which are diagonal in the plan, creating a heightened sense of procession that invites users to wander through the transitional spaces. Geometry also governed the exterior of the buildings. Kahn incorporated pure geometries such as circles, arches, and squares in the facades in the form of openings and light wells. The exterior of the complex conveys a sense of sublimity and monumentality, which recalls many ancient references, such as the Roman ruins or the medieval architecture in India. Kahn had successfully achieved timelessness through pure geometry and abstracted patterns without incorporating any explicit historical references.88 Balkrishna Doshi, the local architect who introduced Kahn to the commission, remarks on Kahn’s search for the timeless and spiritual in architecture: “Lou appeared to me a Yogin because of his ‘Samadhi’ (heightened consciousness) to discover the value of the eternal – the Truth – the Atman – the Soul.”89 In conclusion, Louis Kahn’s writing and architecture reflect his belief in the enchantment of architecture. Architects must understand the original and somewhat mysterious order of the universe to arrive at enchanted spaces. Magicians appeal to a higher order in order to meet their ends. They do this through the use of rituals or spells instead of through rational means. Architects should, according to Kahn, similarly conjure up images as governed by a higher order. Such conjuring is not done solely through experience or knowledge but through “knowing,” which is personal to the architect through their sense and intuition. The knowing of order exists within us, and it is only when we begin to realize the laws of nature that we can give spirit and enchantment to architecture, which reflects the essence of the space.

VII The Postmodern movement in architecture may be seen as an attempt to reconnect with past magic. Postmodern architecture developed during the 1960s as a reaction to modern architecture, particularly the International Style. This movement attempted to offer a more engaging, experimental, and interesting architecture as a revolt against the problems of Modernism. Intellectually, the beginning of Postmodernism can be traced to Robert Venturi’s 1966 book, Complexity, and Contradiction.90 This book describes a more accommodating architecture of the “both/and.” Venturi explains the type of architecture that should replace Modernism. I speak of a complex and contradictory architecture based on the richness and ambiguity of modern experience, including that experience

142 Loss which is inherent in art. … I welcome the problems and exploit the uncertainties. … I like elements which are hybrid rather than “pure,” compromising rather than “clean,” … accommodating rather than excluding. … I am for messy vitality over obvious unity. … I prefer “both-and” to “either-or,” black and white, and sometimes gray, to black and white. … An architecture of complexity and contradiction must embody the difficult unity of inclusion rather than the easy unity of exclusion.91 The architectural historian Diane Ghirardo writes, “In place of the functional doctrines of modernism. Venturi proposed giving primary emphasis to the façade, incorporating historical elements, a subtle use of unusual materials and historical allusions, and the use of fragmentation and modulations to make the building interesting.”92 In his writings, Venturi points out that great cities like Rome did not speak with one voice, but instead were built in historical layers using vivid juxtapositions. Similarly, in Learning from Las Vegas, Venturi, Scott Brown, and Izenour demonstrated that even the lowest common denominator of non-modernist popular architecture has the value of conveying cultural meaning, which they regarded as indispensable to the built environment. This concept must have given rise to many questions about the immeasurable aspects of contemporary culture, such as spirituality, wonder, and other concerns about our place in the world. Denise Scott Brown, Venturi’s partner at Venturi Scott Brown and Associates, has stated provocatively how humans engage uncertain or unexplainable things, that “Faced with unmeasurables, people steer their way by magic.”93 When discussing historical allusion, it is interesting that Venturi speaks of Ancient Rome. His references to Rome certainly stemmed from his two years studying at the American Academy in Rome. However, this reference reminds us that during this period of postmodern thinking, he is advocating architects to revisit the iconic classicism of Ancient Rome and Greek culture, along with the ideals of the Renaissance, which were periods that wholly accepted architectural magic. Venturi advocates an architecture that is hybrid, both/and. This architecture for him should be messy and more complex. He is suggesting that postmodern architecture can gain the richness of complexity; in other words, architecture that refers to many diverse entities. In saying both/and, he is giving architects the ability to provide multiple allusions in contrast to Modernism that was limited by rational boxes devoid of ornamentation. Venturi’s exposure to the city of Rome certainly influenced his call for more meaningful architecture. Evoking Rome could be likened to a return to the magical infused enchantment that the city represented and also an attempt to reconcile allusive architecture with the modern condition. Venturi, as a theorist and educator, must have been aware of the problems with at least one of the main streams of Modernism. This stream

Loss  143 believed that modernity was itself enchanted and that, although the participants were unaware of this condition, accepted both the rational and enchantment. They did not question the conflict this situation created. This group included architects who embraced Modernism but continued to copy without really understanding past forms of enchantment. This condition suggests a certain complexity and contradiction. It may be asked if this is the contradiction that connects enchantment (magic) with modernity. Venturi did not recommend that architects mindlessly copy the past. He called for an admirable connection to historical meaning. Venturi was hoping architects would imbue their designs with cultural meaning that involved a complexity beyond simple rationality. He wanted architects to understand the critical limitations of an overly rational design process. He was questioning Modernism’s formula of design that resulted in solving problems only using functional programs. The postmodern approach adheres to the belief that good solutions may be found beyond that which is purely rational. In this way, it accepts the ambiguities that can occur when conflicting beliefs intersect. For these postmodern architects, this meant that they could create a new set of dichotomies that represented a mannerism and not only a copy of classical orders. The importance of Complexity and Contradiction was to reveal the absence of cultural meaning in modernist architecture and to recognize that historical reference can be valuable. Likewise, Learning from Las Vegas showed that even popular buildings could bring cultural meaning to cities. During the 1970s and 1980s, several notable architects emerged, each giving Postmodernism their approach. Charles Moore, a contemporary of Robert Venturi, presented a more overt employment of historicist language in contrast to Venturi’s Guild Hall, for example. Moore was focused on recapturing the lost “sense of place” he witnessed in American cities.94 His project to give meaning to an open space in New Orleans became an exaggerated and extreme exercise in Italian talismans. Using a plan of the boot of Italy, the plaza is a conglomeration of Roman columns, capitals, and arches. The marbleized plywood represented a dislocated image. “The Piazza d’Italia is at once archaeological, modernist, commercial, and high camp.”95 Moore’s attempt to add the magic of meaning to buildings and architectural spaces was admirable but, in hindsight, became questionable, since his references did not ring true in places that did not maintain any history with Ancient Rome. The most important building of the period designed by Michael Graves is the Portland Public Service Building. The civic building is a layered, ornamented description of Venturi’s “decorated box.” It is covered in general and obvious historical ornamentation. An eclectic combination of elements, it is distorted and non-specific as to a period or place. It has been described as a civic building as an ancient civic archetype that includes elements of a Greek temple and Roman arch.96 The once modernist architect Philip Johnson took historical reference to the extreme that it became sarcastic or ironic. His most significant

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Figure 5.7 Night-time View of the Portland Building in Portland, Oregon, Photo: Visitor7, CC-BY-SA-3.0.

building of the Postmodern period is the building for AT&T in New York City. The building was an abstracted and exaggerated colossal Chippendale Highboy. Using the form of an English piece of furniture created an iconic transformation in the context of New York and for a communications corporation. Culture, and indeed the architecture of the past, was infused with meaning through the use of magic. This assertion may be more easily compared to the stream that allowed a modern enchantment, “one that simultaneously enchants and disenchants, which delights but does not delude.”97 Venturi may have begun a movement in an attempt to give architecture

Loss  145 historical meaning, but, as often happens, it was reinterpreted by others and deteriorated to be a mere “style.” Postmodernism in the hands of other less talented architects became superficial, especially when it was used as an attempt to locate historical meaning in places where this reference was inappropriate. In the end it became impotent caricatures, with an appliqué of Greek or Roman elements. These past symbols were used without a connection between their true meanings, context, or intent of the classical orders. So, the problem was that architecture became “decorated boxes” rather than thoughtful allusions to immeasurable things. These arbitrary references to the past were confusing and became impotent in providing any meaning. The attempt to provide magical reference ended in an exaggerated, meaningless, and short-lived movement. To discredit the historicism of Postmodern architecture, architects looked to philosophy to engage a new paradigm. Deconstruction was a philosophical movement (as an extension of Postmodern philosophy) that was the impetus for an architecture of deconstruction beginning in the 1980s. The philosophical period was best known for writings by Jacques Derrida. It was “the substitute for this present-to-historic, anti-historic, and the essence of what is a transitory, fleeting contingent of a Post-Modern time and space.”98 Derrida focused on meaning and significance, and believed that they were not appreciably related. He purported that they are persistently separate, and when they intersect they provide new combinations.99 When questioning the relationship between meaning and signification, Derrida suggested that in breaking down an author’s ability to dictate meaning, much of the communication is reduced to signs that are fragmented as they move from production to perception. The reading of a communication or a work of art passes through “permanent organization – disorganization – reorganization – deconstruction.”100 The fragmentation causes confusion between fiction and truth. The architectural theorist, Jorge Glusberg, compares the philosophical theory of deconstruction to a collage. As an element of language, it is diverse, breaking any consistent pattern of speech, and requires further interpretation, an interpretation that is fragmented but still creates an entirely new composition.101 Possibly not surprisingly, “Derrida himself sustained that Deconstructive architectural thought is impossible.”102 Because architecture is productive and requires stability and unification to exist, architects interpreted this deconstruction theory in various ways. The architect and academic Bernard Tschumi interpreted deconstruction philosophy as disjunction: “rejection of the notion of synthesis in favour of the notion of disassociation and disjunctive analysis.”103 He wrote about “the rejection of the traditional opposition between use and architectural form in favour of superposition and juxtaposition of two terms” that can be used for methods of architectural analysis.104 He emphasized the methodological plan of “fragmentation and superposition” in a new combination that goes beyond limits that are interpreted differently.105 In his Parc de la Villette project, Tschumi set

146 Loss out to demonstrate that he could “construct a complex architectural organization without resorting to traditional rules of composition, hierarchy, and order.”106 Similarly, the architect Peter Eisenman viewed Deconstruction in his architecture as “an expansion away from the limits of the classical model towards the realization of architecture as an independent power, free from external duties, this is the intersection of what is significant, arbitrary, timeless and artificial.”107 Mark Wigley agreed, and spoke of “disturbing conservative architectural thought, challenging harmony, drawing out repressed impurities, and internal violence.”108 These architects had transformed the Soviet Constructivist initial ideas and subsequently branched off from them.109 These theories were manifest in their architecture by the use of disparate angles, superimposed clashing geometries, elements crashing, and intersecting each other, asymmetry, and rotated grids. Deconstruction attempted to rethink the architecture of Modernism by pointing out its flaws. With Postmodernism, Deconstructivism created a rejection of historicism, thus suggesting that all meaning and signification are meaningless (can be continuously interpreted), and objects constructed by humans are then inherently flawed. Noting our flaws is not a new position but more of a reminder that we are human. This reference may be compared to the Greek god Hephaestus who, although a god, walked with a limp, demonstrating human flaws. However, deconstruction can be useful in understanding our present relationship with a magical enchanted world. Postmodern architecture attempted to return to a period of historical reference but recreating an artificial history that could be regarded as false and meaningless. Many architects of this period were trying to force magical meaning and to re-enchant their architecture. In reaction to this problem, the Deconstructivists attempted to strip architecture of past order, harmony, or meaning. Understandably, these architects did not want to go back to a previous time. In an attempt to render architecture meaningless (and continually referenced), they did not want to employ the flaws of the past. In doing so, they may have also lost their connections with fundamental magical beliefs. They no longer built an architecture that created order in a context of controlling nature as they had disconnected from the Divine. With this approach, they did not attempt to employ magic and wonder regarding the immeasurable. Thus, without a connection to magic, architecture may have lost its sense of meaning and ability to become inspired.

Notes

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6

Return

Architecture emerges from and is inherently integrated within a society’s beliefs and search for understanding. In this search, principles related to magic have played a significant role. Magic, from early history, has been essential in the process of architecture. If magic is the attempt to control nature and engage the Divine, then the objects, such as architecture, that have been acted upon are enchanted. The concept of enchantment is the state of being under a spell; magic, with great delight or charm, can clarify how architects can be magicians. This study has proposed that many of the architects who have lasting reputations have continually engaged concepts related to magic in their designs. Consequently, if the principles of re-enchantment remain relevant for architecture, then it is crucial to remind contemporary architects how they may use concepts of magic in order to enchant their buildings.

I The exclusion of magical practices, a type of disenchantment, was conceived by the rational movements of the Scientific or Industrial Revolution. It was a prevalent belief and most philosophers of the nineteenth century adhered to this theory. However, even if one accepts this school of thought, it remains important to remember that magic (to various degrees) historically has been important for our understanding of the world. To rectify a seemingly disenchanted world, the philosophers Joshua Landy and Michael Saler, in their book The Re-Enchantment of the World, propose notions that may re-enchant a contemporary society. These ten concepts appear to derive from various historical sources reflecting literature related to magic. Landy and Saler describe how contemporary society can promote re-enchantment, and write that if the world is to be re-enchanted it must have mystery, wonder, order, purpose, significance attached to objects and events encountered, be susceptible to redemption, have intelligible locus for the infinite, and in re-enchantment there must be a way of carving out within the profane world a set of spaces that possess the allure of the sacred, display miracles that can be viewed as exceptional events that go

Return  151 against the accepted order of things, or exhibit secular epiphanies which create unity with something larger than ourselves.1 These qualities of re-enchantment can also be useful in clarifying the significant relationship between magic and contemporary architecture. It is essential to question the relevance of these concepts in relation to architecture. It may be asserted that these concepts offer interesting insights into the architectural design process, and these qualities exhibited in architecture will help argue that architects were and still can be magicians. The discussion will provide examples of architects (both historical and contemporary) who have used magical principles of re-enchantment in their architectural projects. We will refer to concepts of re-enchantment, as proposed by Landy and Saler, in groups, because, offered in combination, they may provide a greater insight into their relevance to architecture. Indeed, these concepts can be grouped in many different ways. The list is like a series of parts of a machine coming together to perform a task. The discussion finds links between these words and forms the groupings as follows. First, the infinite is combined with mystery. The infinite describes the immeasurable things that are greater than us. The infinite may compare to the law of contagion, where things having qualities in common will continue to be associated. It is an act of defining, and magicians have always attempted to define an ideal world. For humans, this ideal remains a mystery. The idea of mystery may be understood as the curiosity about the unknown that renders architecture interesting besides encouraging the inhabitants to feel excitement in questioning the meaning of a space. Second, we link the idea of wonder with the sacred. Wonder, with a long history in philosophy, can apply to architecture, since it is often displayed as a mystery. Wonder reveals a belief in possibility – allowing humans to ask what “if.” The sacred creates spaces, either ecclesiastical or profane, are exceptional, and thus inspiring. As the art historian Nikolaus Pevsner wrote about the difference between a bicycle shed and a cathedral, there is a difference between a building and architecture. This attitude of making spaces sacred recognizes that memorable and inspiring spaces make us wonder and increases our understanding of our place in the world. The creation of understandable space reminds us of an aspect of magic, the law of similarity, where architects as magicians attempt to re-create heaven or paradise on Earth – as demonstrated, for example, by a Chinese secular garden. Third, we consider the association between order and redemption. Order represents the control of nature, vitally relevant to architects and also to magic – the efforts to control the unknown. Order provides structure and organization, and this is understandable as architects define their environment and culture. Similarly, order in architecture defines the natural world and places boundaries around the ways humans should live. A goal of magic has been to find the order in nature, to make it productive. Redemption can be defined as retrieval or recovery, being saved from sin or error. In the context of architecture, it may suggest that architects as magicians improve the

152 Return order of the world (and make it more true, ethical, and moral) at the same time, making it less false. This search for order may connect redemption and re-enchanted magic to the Divine. Fourth, we look at the connection between purpose and significance. The idea of purpose does not necessarily always mean function. Purpose in this context involves commitment, intention, and objective. A purpose can persuade one about an idea. Making buildings is an affirmative action with both a function and also determination which orders the world and serves to express the goals of culture. Having a purpose is essential to magic because it ritualizes humans’ needs and desires. Magicians serve a purpose but also work to facilitate the most critical aspects of human lives. The purpose should be significant in order to make an impact. Significance evokes connotations of hierarchy and monumentality. Significance is making meaningful, efficient, and memorable spaces, and helps us think about the broader context of the world. As out of the ordinary, successful architecture can inspire, display meaning, and represent important aspects of a community. Significant architecture tends to celebrate aspects of inhabitation that might reference the magical as extraordinary. Finally, we join the ideas of miracles with epiphanies. Exceptional spaces may be perceived as miracles, and the experience of these environments can create moving and emotional epiphanies. The extraordinary can connect architecture to the Divine, a magical act. While it is true that some contemporary architects never became disenchanted, a great many others did. In the end, our hope is that those future architects who have lost this connection may regain and sustain enchantment through using principles of magic.

II The concepts of infinite and mystery exhibit interesting tangential connections and have distinctive meanings that may assist in an understanding of magic in a new context. The definition of the word infinite has a relationship to boundless. Thus it maintains ties to both the undefined and definition. Similarly, mystery questions that which we do not know. It revels in puzzlement and ambiguity. Also related to the unknown, the word mystery has ancient roots in mastery and craft that give its meaning another every interesting dimension in the context of architecture, magic, and the combination of infinite and mystery. The word infinite can be seen as the limitless or endless in space, extent, or size; impossible to measure or calculate. 2 The etymology of “infinite” emerges directly from the Latin word infinitus, “unbounded, unlimited, countless, numberless,” from in –“not, opposite of” + finitus “defining, definite.” In other words, the infinite is something we cannot define or measure. When faced with such immeasurables, it is typically human nature to attempt to create a defining scale and order system for understanding. For humans, architecture is a crucial mechanism used for creating definition,

Return  153 mediating between perceived chaos and human designs.3 Architecture exists between the measurable and immeasurable. It appears to offer architects an understandable way with which to demonstrate and define their concepts.4 We can consider that various early monuments, tombs, and temples all operated as forms of architectural demonstrations of definition during their lifetimes. Therefore, what remains of these past implementations of architectural design helps define humanity’s search to understand and magically control the perceived chaos of nature. It has been stated that architecture is used to create definition. The Oxford English Dictionary writes that the etymology of the word “definition” comes from the Latin word definire, which means the setting of bounds or limits.5 To define something is to create boundaries in order to designate its exact meaning. It is interesting to note that the word “designate” is closely related to the word “design,” whose root means to mark out. Architecture can be seen as a form of demonstration. The word “demonstrate” comes from the Latin monstrum, and means to divine, portend, or warn. A demonstration offers a foreshadowing of coming events and allows a certain prophetic indication of meaning through marvel, prodigy, and wonder. Traditionally, works of architecture have been employed as demonstrating mechanisms, used as templates for understanding and testing concepts of immeasurable things in general. Buildings have often been used as conduits to define what was considered the absolute truth or, typically, the work of the Divine. A cathedral is a good example because what it demonstrates is closely related to that of the Divine. The primary meaning of the word “divine” is directly related to the concept of God or perfection.6 Humans usually believe that the divine is all-powerful, infinite, and unmeasurable. However, while this definition has had a significant effect upon the concept of architecture, it is divine’s secondary definition that is identified most directly with the idea of the building as a form of demonstration. To divine can also mean to foretell through inspiration, intuition, or reflection upon the shape of future events. For example, many believe that a divining rod has a magical quality that can foretell the future location of a well. An excellent example of how architecture defines and demonstrates the infinite may be found in the Brion Tomb by the Italian architect, Carlo Scarpa. As discussed earlier, Scarpa was influenced by the materials, landscape, and the history of Venetian culture and Japan. One of his most famous projects, the Brion Tombs, offers an insight into the connection between magic, architecture, infinity, and mystery. The tomb was commissioned in 1969 by Onorina Brion Tomasin for her husband, Giuseppe Brion. Scarpa’s design responds to the “L”-shaped site, and he filled it with three parts: the reflecting pond with the water pavilion, the arcosolium, and the chapel. When entering the site, one proceeds up some steps that lead to two intersecting circles opening to a garden view. The circles referenced an ancient Asian tradition of the union of man and woman, and demonstrated Mr. and Mrs. Brion’s love for one another. The engaged circles act

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Figure 6.1 The Brion Tomb and Sanctuary Designed by Carlo Scarpa, Photo: uromano, PD-Self.

symbolically and suggest magical talismans. As with magic’s law of contagion, the Brions are joined in death as they were joined in life. Proceeding past the circles, one can choose to go right toward the water pavilion or left to the arcosolium. The reflecting pond is created for meditation, as in the Japanese tradition. In the center of the design is located a wooden structure where one can see the tombs and a distant view of the village where Mr. Brion was born. Here is located a bench to sit and meditate. Placed on the sunniest part of the site is the arcosolium, an arch with a sarcophagus, and there is a bridge over the two tombs of Mr. and Mrs. Brion. These tombs tilt toward each other, representing the couple’s love for one another. Architecture has been used to elicit questions of eternity, demonstrate our relationship with things we will always find a mystery, our place in the world, and the reasons for our existence. The Brion Tombs question the

Return  155 nature of the unknown. As tombs, they represent the important questions of humanity: the fragility of the human body, the endurance of love, and the possibilities of eternal life. These kinds of questions have been a mystery for people for as long as we have existed. Humans will continually search for definitive knowledge about the Divine and the meaning of life. For Onorina Brion, the tombs are theurgical; the placement of elements on the site is linked in a processional sequence, describing the practice of a ritual. Remembering that theurgy means to appeal to a higher power, the procession across the site may be theurgical, and equally magical, evoking the presence of God and thus also representing the Divine as foretelling the future and the hope for eternal life. The procession as a sacred or secret rite may replicate a ritual of meditation. Previously establishing the dependence of magic on secret rites and rituals, the meditative path provokes visitors to contemplate the unknown. Rituals are performed as a set of activities in sequence. There are two modes of thinking that provide different dimensions to the actions of ritual.7 Roy Rappaport’s cultural studies discuss how rituals reflect humans’ perception of the world and how they are associated with religious beliefs. Religious rituals are primarily established using a set of beliefs (compared to boundaries), which endeavor to explain, as devotional actions, the secrets and meaning of the universe or an ideal.8 Studying social change, anthropologist Victor Turner suggested that rituals are based on repetitive actions: “they are performances according to defined habits or conventions.”9 Rituals, distinctly tied to magic, help comprehend the unknown, find truth in phenomena, or the immeasurable, as “all ritual is a kind of language; it, therefore, translates ideas.”10 The mystery of ritual, in terms of the spatial procession, includes pertinent sequencing clues to a mystery using such elements as framing a view, maneuvering around corners, a well-placed turn, halting the procession with a place of mediation or a moment of revelation. With the meaning of infinite to ponder the unknown, mystery may be defined comparatively as anything that is kept secret or remains unexplained or unknown; things that arouse curiosity or speculation and are obscure and puzzling. Mystery, the second word in this paring of notions that can guide us to magic and re-enchantment, has historically referred to any truth that is unknowable except by divine revelation.11 An interesting connection to infinite mystery emerged from the Latin mysterium, which is a secret rite and, of course, a ritual.12 In its archaic form, the word mystery is also related to ministry or service, especially a guild.13 In this form it is connected to maistrie, or “mastery,” and thus to a craft or trade. Most likely, the historical connection between secret ritual and guilds came into being because, as discussed earlier, trades were organized into secret guilds. The guilds of builders, now known as architects, held construction knowledge and building practices secret within the guild. Likewise, magic has traditionally been practiced in secret. Magic and architecture both require mastery, and both require

156 Return craft. Distinctive traits of both architects and magicians are their dexterity and skill, besides attempting to control nature and foretell the future through their actions. Craft, well known to magicians and architects, involves skill in planning, making, and executing. Magicians use craft to influence the forces of nature that are hard to control by humans. The crafting of the appropriate words, objects, or actions affects the outcome of the ritual and hence the spell necessary to influence change. Craft allows architects to explain through the rites, rituals, or experience of designed spaces. For architects, the craft is the mode of physical demonstration. Craft is also a verb, and for architects it represents the process of making (enclosing space) and making meaning. This meaning can be understood symbolically or perceived through designing the “experience” involved in inhabiting architectural space. Many believe that craft is linked to creativity and imagination in the mysterious talents of architects and magicians. Carlo Scarpa was known for his attention to craft. As mentioned earlier, he was immersed in the building culture of Venice. His projects include the careful articulation of materials, especially concrete. The cast-in-place formwork of poured concrete gives his architecture texture. In many cases, the reveals and layers form the ornament using solid and void to study the sharp contrast of dark shadows and light. The exquisite detailing of  the intertwined circles displayed in the Brion Tombs, especially the thin, unsupported arcs, provokes the magic of the experience and questions the craft of the materials. Architects are continually deciphering and reorganizing the many intricate parts necessary for a building. The clues unite to tell a narrative of the building and the experience of the space. A design process includes the many decisions necessary to conceive and build the work of architecture. Magic is most certainly a process; the effectiveness lies in action, as Marcel Mauss described magic as doing.14 Architects as magicians utilize their imaginations and skills in “making” in their magical practices. Scarpa’s attention to craft demonstrated the mystery of the Divine, the procession of events that indicated infinity, and the corporeal aspects of tactility. The “mastery” associated with mystery is evident in the elegant and sensitive Brion Tombs. Scarpa certainly demonstrates an architect as a magician.

III The words wonder and sacred express two ways whereby architects as magicians can bring enchantment to their architecture. It may seem that these are unrelated words, but a comparison between them may support a discussion of wonder in the sense of curiosity and possibility, and how architects may bring notions of the sacred into both profane and ecclesiastical architectural space. When considered in the context of magic, wonder may encourage architects to question the unknown and to appeal to the divine.

Return  157 In like manner, the sacred may, in magic, suggest how an architectural design process can demonstrate or evoke inspiring spaces. Wonder may be defined as something that causes astonishment; a deed performed, or an event brought about by miraculous or supernatural power; a miracle.15 It is a term used by philosophers at various points in history. For example, Thomas Aquinas expressed that “wonder is the desire for knowledge,” and generations later, Henry David Thoreau equated wonder with “beautiful knowledge.”16 The use of the concept of wonder has also been connected to the philosopher René Descartes. Descartes considered wonder as helpful to acquire knowledge, in that observing unusual and extraordinary objects assists in obtaining knowledge, although Descartes felt that if one wonders or questions too much, knowledge is harder to locate.17 Years later, the philosopher Martin Heidegger referenced wonder in relation to astonishment. The historian Andrea Nightingale writes that Heidegger defined astonishment as that which allows the unusual to develop, specifically the extraordinary, into what overtakes all usual powers. More specifically, wonder, which is raised above astonishment, engages the concept of ordinary.18 Heidegger wrote: [I]n wonder, what is most usual of all and in all, i.e., everything becomes the most unusual. … Everything in what is most usual becomes in wonder the most unusual in this one respect: that it is what it is … while wonder must venture out into the most extreme unusualness of everything, it is at the same time cast back wholly on itself, knowing that it is incapable of penetrating the unusualness by way of explanation, since that would precisely be to destroy it.19 In other words, it is when we view the unusualness in usual things that we experience wonder. 20 Magicians use ritual and often perform mundane actions in hopes of an extraordinary result. These actions, on the part of magicians, assist with a situation that is out of control. Believing (and here faith is essential) that the actions of the magician will produce results is critical to the process. Similarly, architects employ common materials and traditional actions of construction in recombination to create spaces that encourage inhabitants to wonder. When visitors are allowed to question, the effect of these architectural spaces may result in astonishment or provide knowledge about the world. Architects as magicians who reconsider the use of ordinary materials can often reinvigorate the meaning of those materials in their unusual reuse. One architect who is unique in his ability to utilize common materials and make beautiful spaces is Shigeru Ban, who is known for the unique use of conventional cardboard tubes in his architecture. The use of cardboard as a building material and also as a repeated textural interior element is both innovative and causes inhabitants to wonder (ponder and question) the nature of the material – its strength, durability, and aesthetic qualities.

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Figure 6.2 Transitional (Cardboard) Cathedral in Christchurch, New Zealand, Photo: AlasdairW, CC-BY-SA-3.0 Self-published Work.

Similarly, Ban has used the common material of wood in thoughtful ways. Wondering about the capabilities of wood, he has constructed the world’s tallest timber (a hybrid of wood, concrete, and steel) structured building in Vancouver, Canada – the Terrace House. Ban is constantly questioning our typical building materials, and as an architect as a magician he inserts wonder and thus magic, and the quest for knowledge into architecture and those who experience it. Through his material investigations, finding the unusual in the usual, he demonstrates an architect who is continually exploring “magic in the making.” The philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein used the term wonder to rectify the secular notion of modernity with the “possibilities of spontaneity” and referred to it in terms of “seeing-as.”21 In a more contemporary interpretation, the architectural theorist Marco Frascari wrote of wonder as a questioning. “Wonder gives things their meaning, showing them to be significant. It is a step nearer to the recognition that things have an infinite meaning and that this meaning is attributable to the things themselves, rather than to our human interest.”22 Frascari explains that wonder is critical to intellectual and design searches, “since wonder is a state of desire.”23 It is not surprising that wonder, when equated with concepts of questioning and desire, has long been described in terms of mystery and magic. 24

Return  159 Understanding wonder as having a unique potential likens it to the possibility or the questioning of “if.”25 Nightingale discusses wonder as a factor in enchantment and states that it “carries us outside ourselves.”26 In other words, wonder encourages us to think beyond our environment and knowledge base to question unknown things. In the practice of magic, magicians certainly ask “what if.” These questions could be as literal as what if I use this potion or ritual, but most likely they are using questions to refine their skills and dexterity continually and to improve their effectiveness, but also to explore their role in society. Since magic, like science and especially medicine, is not an exacting art, the outcome is not always predetermined, nor ends precisely as desired. Likewise, architecture is reasonably subjective, as architects make a multitude of decisions throughout a design process – mostly based on experience and educated guesses.27 Architects also continually question their design decisions in terms of their appropriateness compared to such things as context or program. Architects always ask what “if,” and as Frascari writes, wonder is the source of the design. 28 Using wonder to re-enchant architecture may include a constant reassessment of the decisions architects make in the process of design. Asking the “if” means that architects will continuously question and experiment, and will not be satisfied with the status quo. Questioning adds to knowledge, through the constant search for knowledge and truth. Exploring possibilities means designing more thoughtful architecture through research and experimentation. Often this process requires asking the appropriate questions for each design situation – as architects can revel in the mystery of wonder and magic, and use it to their advantage. This use of wonder can be the “creativity” that makes new forms and solutions possible. The iteration, experimentation, and belief in the play of “pure possibility” exhibits the “magic in the making.” The word sacred means to be connected with God (or the gods), or dedicated to a religious purpose and so deserving of veneration (reverence, respect, regard); hallowed, blessed, blest, consecrated. In their list of notions that can help society return to enchantment, Landy and Saler write about how part of re-enchantment consists of making profane and secular spaces sacred. 29 Something that is deemed sacred is also defined as devoted exclusively to one service or use; worthy of religious veneration; of or relating to religion, and highly valued and essential. We are reminded of the historian Mircea Eliade’s discussion of the sacred and the profane. When exploring a definition of sacred space, he uses the word hierophany. For him, hierophany is how “something sacred shows itself to us.”30 He uses the example that things as common as a tree can be worshiped and “transmuted into a supernatural reality.”31 It can be both a common “reality” and also assigned the power of something sacred. Eliade is saying that a profane or nondescript space can be transformed into a sacred space by being designated as significant, and thus it may act as a “center” for culture by establishing order in the world.32 Eliade does not necessarily see these

160 Return spaces as religious, since he writes that dwellings can be significant sacred spaces as they constitute an imago-mundi, a representation of the cosmos on Earth.33 “This is as much as to say that all symbols and rituals having to do with temples, cities, and houses are finally derived from the primary experience of sacred space.”34 The idea of what designates a space versus a place has been investigated by architectural theorists over the past several years. They have concluded that if space is given a special purpose of distinction, that space becomes sacred. This sacredness may mean that such a space has been sanctified or consecrated, not necessarily as religious but giving it identity in terms of history, memory, myth, or cultural importance. The human geographer Yi-Fu Tuan writes that “a fundamental concept of the sacredness of place reflects a community’s representation of ‘center’ and their efforts to ‘create order out of disorder’.”35 Magicians have historically been able to consecrate buildings (and spaces) to protect them from the forces of nature with talismans. We might interpret these rituals as giving the spaces a unique identity or designation. Architects as magicians may ask what gives architectural spaces the identity and qualities of the sacred – a space that encourages communication with God, or the gods. They may question what elements in a building provide identity or render a building inspiring. Obviously, like the actions of a magician, the cause does not always form a definitive effect. This realization reminds architects that the interpretation of space is subjective. The choice of materials, articulation of volumes of space, or the quality of light, for example, are perceived by humans in inconsistent ways.

Figure 6.3 T herme Vals Designed by Peter Zumthor, Photo: Bernard Gagnon, CC-BY-SA-3.0.

Return  161 Numerous successful architects have been able to craft architectural spaces that are acclaimed as unique. We have discussed a few, such as the modernist architect Louis Kahn. Several contemporary architects have been consciously imbuing their buildings with spaces so sublime that they enhance the experience of the space to suggest they are sacred. The Swiss architect Peter Zumthor is an example. In his project, Therme Vals, the heightened experience of a space, through reaching for the sacred, makes the building magical. The use of tactile materials such as rough-cut stone and water gives the building a sensuous quality. Zumthor’s use of light, sometimes direct and at other times reflected in other instances diffused, provides the wonder and mystery that renders the space magical. The conscious attention to the experience for the inhabitants ensures that they question the uniqueness of the spaces and recognize its identity. Zumthor writes in his book Thinking Architecture about how he is purposeful in his design decisions: To me, buildings can have a beautiful silence that I associate with attributes such as composure, self-evidence, durability, presence, and integrity, and with warmth and sensuousness as well; a building that is being itself, being a building, not representing anything, just being. The sense that I try to instill into materials is beyond all rules of composition, and their tangibility, smell emerges when I succeed in bringing out the specific meanings of certain materials in my buildings, meanings that can only be perceived in just this way in this one building. When I concentrate on a specific site or place for which I am going to design a building, when I try to plumb its depths, its form, its history, and its sensuous qualities, images of other places start to invade this process of precise observation: images of places I know and that once impressed me, images of ordinary or special places that I carry with me as inner visions of specific moods and qualities; images of architectural situations, which emanate from the world of art, or films, theater or literature.36 Peter Zumthor, in using his skills of “magical inspiration” as a magician, is creating wondrous spaces that are both secular and sacred.

IV Order represents the control of nature, vitally relevant to architects and also magic – the efforts to control the unknown. Order provides structure and organization, as architects define their environment and culture. Similarly, order in architecture defines the natural world and places boundaries around the ways humankind should live. Order is critical to magic, since a situation that requires the intervention of a magician usually emerges from a situation that has become disorderly. Traditionally, if the world was “not

162 Return right,” humans called upon a magician to provide order. For example, if the rain threatened to wash your house away, it was logical to ask for intervention. Architects also performed this role in providing order in the face of such chaos. Again, the Ancient Greek myth of Daedalus describes humankind’s need to create an orderly means for inhabiting the world. While the myth itself serves as an analogy, the creation of the labyrinth by Daedalus may be considered a metaphor for the creation of architecture. The labyrinth represents human existence, and Daedalus, as its creator, presents a paradigm of order, the “primordial ideal of architecture.”37 He addresses humans’ fundamental need to find order in a chaotic environment and formulates this order with the Knossos labyrinth. Daedalus’ ability to create order is likely the reason why he held a prominent position within Ancient Greek society. As we stated above, humans have a fundamental need to find order in a chaotic environment. Daedalus’ structure served as a paradigm for attempts to form order. The word “paradigm” comes from the Greek paradeigma: “pattern, model; precedent, example,” and from paradeiknynai: “exhibit, represent,” literally “show side by side.”38 The labyrinth demonstrates how order can be found through myth, symbol, and allegory, and explains a conceptual notion of architecture through an understandable measure and scale. Creating order such as through the labyrinth helps humans to define their environment. Defining is the act of demarcating what is within or outside what constitutes something, and boundaries frame a definition within specific parameters. By establishing boundaries, architects are essentially delineating order. Daedalus’ invention of the labyrinth serves as an analogy for architectural definition. By containing the monster inside the labyrinth walls, Daedalus was essentially defining the chaos of the unknown through a set of understandable boundaries. Defined by its walls, the labyrinth can demarcate the spaces of its path, and its concentric circles collectively produce its iconic pattern and form.39 Daedalus was able to interpret an order, built upon this logic, that he displayed in his design. In other words, the search for order through the labyrinth is analogous to the search for the order fundamental for building. Dictionaries define order as the “formal, regular, methodical, or harmonious arrangement in the position of the things contained in a particular space or area, or composing any group or body.”40 Order can also mean “a regular mode of procedure … or a method of action.”41 For architecture, the importance of order may be understood in terms of the order imposed upon the physical and metaphysical landscape. Humanity’s search for order, since the beginning of architecture, was encapsulated by the architectural historian Spiro Kostof: “Boundary and monument both imply a determined marking of nature. Humans impose through them their order on nature, and in doing so, introduce that tug of balance between the way things are and the way we want them to be.”42

Return  163 Definitions of order, as understood today, allude to a relation of parts to the whole that results in a work’s formal and experiential harmony. Vitruvius wrote that architecture consists of proportion (among other things) so that buildings are in balance between the details in relation to the whole to provide a good arrangement.43 The Renaissance architect Leon Battista Alberti also discussed the harmony of a building’s parts in relation to the whole.44 Consistent with these descriptions, the twentieth-century modernist architect Le Corbusier described order as a “necessity” which “brings satisfaction to the understanding,” and thus “a sense of beauty.”45 In Le Corbusier’s words, we find parallels to Kostof’s statement that order gives rise to a set of rules, principles, or limits that govern the design of buildings, mediating the unknown with understandable boundaries. For these architects, order ensured a systematic approach to design that fosters harmony, unity, and beauty, since it serves to guide and transform invisible ideas precisely into concretized forms. Adopting a slightly different approach, the twentieth-century architect Louis Kahn wrote that “design is form-making in order.” For Kahn, there exists in order a “creative force” that is executed through design. His manifesto on Order describes a “system of construction” which intuitively guides form-making to realize the “unfamiliar.”46 He closed his manifesto by stating that order is intangible, as it is a level of creative consciousness that is forever elevating: the higher the order, the more diversity in design.47 Throughout history, there are many examples of where architects defined their buildings following a particular order or set of boundaries that reflect certain ideals of the time. To illustrate, the architect Frank Lloyd Wright was known for his use of geometry as an order governing the entirety of a design. In his Guggenheim Museum, the geometry of the double circles, like a labyrinth, governed the plan, form, and details of the building. The geometry may thus be said to have set boundaries for the design. Wright possessed the transcendentalist belief that “the universe is represented in every one of its particles. Everything in nature contains all the powers of nature…. Each one is an entire emblem of human life.”48 In other words, the universe infinitely repeats itself in the smallest details, while each detail encapsulates the universe. Wright’s use of the double-circle motif, basically a labyrinth, at every scale of the building aims to imitate a relationship that may be a way of defining the invisible and boundless – that is, the universe – through comprehensible means.49 To give another example, analyzing Kahn’s work with order in mind demonstrates his success in achieving the expression of order. The National Parliament Building in Bangladesh takes the form of an imposing fortress lying in an artificial lake in the country’s capital: its grandness expresses the authority of the government. The plan of the building features eight halls arranged concentrically around the circular central parliamentary grand chamber. The equality of the supporting chambers that revolve around the central chamber emphasizes the importance of the central government. The

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Figure 6.4 Similarities between Mandala Forms and The National Assembly of Bangladesh, Adapted from Image of Mandala of Amitayus, Tibet, Photo: Jason Brijraj, CC-BY-SA-2.5 Self-published work.

design exemplifies a formal expression of order: poured-in-place concrete and inlaid marble, as well as geometric “punched-out” openings, offer unique lighting scenarios. The building speaks to the vernacular architecture of Bangladesh and its climate, as well as to modernist principles. These are demonstrated distinctly in the centralized plan that resembles a Hindu mandala pattern, a circle imposed inside of a square.50 A mandala is a spiritual and ritual symbol representing the universe. Its geometric pattern is usually organized as a square of four main gates containing a central circle with a center point. As an example of “magical inspiration,” and a symbol of the cosmos, the mandala is an ordering device: it makes something unknown understandable, as it expresses a microcosm of the universe.51 Just as Daedalus imposed order through constructing walls as boundaries to demarcate paths and thus differentiated the understandable from a

Return  165 chaotic world, so architects have reinterpreted order through their work. In a context of shifting circumstances, having the ability to establish and reinforce order is essential, as it guides judgment and decision-making throughout the design process. Therefore, architects should possess the talent to formulate thoughtful boundaries to define their future buildings’ meanings. This ability to define boundaries should be considered using their belief systems within a contextual paradigm. Again, we can state that the creation of order is critical to magic, since a situation that requires the intervention of a magician usually emerges from disorder. Louis I. Kahn writes, “Order does not imply Beauty …the same order created the dwarf and Adonis.”52 In other words, any order created by humans may be useful but also flawed and in error. This problem leads us to connect the idea of order with redemption. Redemption may be defined as retrieval or recovery, being saved from sin or error. Many have written about the concept of redemption, from Friedrich Nietzsche to the Catholic Church, but the word’s origin and definition can offer us the greatest insights. Redemption’s connection with saving from sin, error, or evil is of particular interest. A sin is an immoral act considered to be a transgression against divine law. The etymology of the word “sin” comes from the English biblical terms translated as “sin” or “syn” from the biblical Greek, and Jewish terms sometimes originate from words in the latter languages denoting the act or state of missing the mark; the original sense of New Testament Greek “sin” is failure, being in error, missing the mark, especially in spear throwing.53 Redemption then can save us from missing the mark. Such a connection is essential when considering the etymology of the word design, the work of an architect. The word design comes to us from the Latin designare, “mark out, devise, choose, designate, appoint,” and from de- “out” + signare “to mark,” from signum “identifying mark, sign.”54 Indeed, designers would not wish their marks to be sinful or in error. The German architect Albert Speer, who was well known as Hitler’s architect, offers an excellent example of being able to create order while sinning. Speer always maintained that he was not interested in politics as a young man but became swept up in the popularity of the Nazi Party in the 1930s55. There he gained the interest of Hitler and was offered many design commissions. One of Speer’s first commissions was the design of the Nüremberg parade grounds, a site for enormous Nazi rallies. Speer recommended that most events on the site be held at night and then surrounded the grounds with 130 anti-aircraft searchlights. These searchlights created a “cathedral of light,” which Speer described as his most beautiful work. 56 This demonstration was incredibly powerful, enchanting many to join the party. However, while many agree that this was an excellent piece of architecture representing “magical inspiration,” most today also believe that the Nazi philosophy was evil. At the end of the war, Speer was sentenced to 20 years’ imprisonment for his sins of supporting the Nazi Party. While he was able to create fascinating, well-ordered designs, few today would argue that Albert Speer was not ethically flawed and in need of redemption.

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Figure 6.5 Mass Assemblage of Political Leaders on the Searchlight-illuminated Zeppelin Field in Nuremberg, Photo: Unknown, CC-PD-Mark.

In the context of architecture, it may be suggested that the architect as a magician’s goal is to improve the world (and make it more true, ethical, and moral), at the same time making it less false. This goal may connect redemption and re-enchanted magic to the Divine. A goal of magic has been to find the order in nature, to make it productive. Magic has been historically practiced to improve a vital situation that could not be solved in any other way. We are reminded of how a magical talisman is employed to protect a building – keeping the building from evil. The question remains about who decides about what is good or evil magic. The use of magic has traditionally been divided into two categories: white magic and black magic. How these terms are defined can be highly subjective, varying with location, periods, and other situations. White magic has been acceptable magic, while black magic has been viewed as that which is unacceptable as defined by a culture. Most consider white magic to be beneficial magic used for such things as healing and divination. Black magic is harmful magic, such as a curse or a hex. For those who believe that all magic is evil, there is only black magic or the black arts. For many, magic is simply magic, and there is no need to color code it. 57 However, if the architect is a magician who can create enchanting buildings, this difference becomes significant. Architects must be in a moral position to judge,

Return  167 not “missing the mark” in the context of how humans should inhabit the world. For Albert Speer, finding redemption of his work through the Nazi Party proved insufficient, since there were higher standards to consider, more significant marks to target. Speer, as a magician, never quite understood whether his enchanted architecture was conjuring angels or demons.

V The significance of architecture is made prominent through people: architecture around the world differentiates people as individuals. In creating one’s environment and rendering it unique to an individual, architecture begins to communicate the characteristics and being of an individual. Human behavior and identity are strongly connected to their location. “Belief in the significance of architecture is premised on the notion that we are, for better or for worse, different people in different places – and on the conviction that it is architecture’s task to render vivid to us who we might ideally be.”58 The true being of an individual is something inherently internal and a non-tangible quality that architecture can seemingly manifest and communicate. Through the building’s frequent inhabitation, one can determine the being of an individual, and perhaps how the architecture surrounding that individual has shaped them. There is, in this sense, something seemingly magical about the ability of architecture to manifest who a person may be. This ability is explained quite well in Alain de Botton’s book, The Architecture of Happiness: Despite the expressive potential of objects and buildings, discussion of what they talk about remains rare. We appear to feel more comfortable contemplating historical sources and stylistic tropes than we do delving into anthropomorphic, metaphoric, or evocative meanings. It remains odd to initiate a conversation about what a building is saying.59 Architecture can be communicative while not explicitly conveying emotion as humans do. Its greatest significance and arguably most magical quality is its ability to communicate with people without saying anything at all. Significance may be defined as the quality of being worthy of attention; meaning to be found in words or events. Although some may objectively argue that not all buildings are worthy of attention, there is meaning and purpose found in all buildings, and therefore, all architecture can be deemed significant. Even a structure such as a folly, a building designed and built purely for decoration with no apparent function, can still be deemed significant, as it has the purpose of being decorative to its surroundings. The significance of monuments rests on their social tasks; a town hall, for example, embodies the polity, a palace authority; a cathedral the role of religion and the Church. As a manifestation of political life and

168 Return world views, monuments express the relationships of people to their epochs and their societies in concentrated and aesthetically effective ways.60 If the significance of architecture is to be based on social tasks, all architecture is significant as a piece of a larger society. There has always been the argument of the cathedral versus the bicycle shed in architecture. Some believe architecture must be beautiful in order to be significant, and therefore in this sense a cathedral is considered a significant piece of architecture, and a bicycle shed is not. However, Nikolaus Pevsner argues: [A]rchitecture is essentially a functional building with an added aesthetic component. … Imagine someone who, when building his bicycle shed, is concerned to observe the golden section in every possible way: he, too, would be adding an aesthetic component to a functional shed … the result would no longer just be a bicycle shed, a mere building, but would claim the dignity of a work of architecture.61 Since the aesthetic component is simply an additive element to the function of the building, it cannot be solely what determines a piece of architecture to be significant or not. The significance lies instead in the function of the building. The significance of architecture can be seen as the combination of concrete form and experience. “Architecture relate[s] first to the objectivity of real, built spaces, secondly to the experience of space as a complex situation, and finally to the two in conjunction, to the intellectual concept of a space that is contained in a design.”62 The combination of these two can be seen as the magical quality which many associate with architecture, and which makes a building significant. The inability of buildings to be purely functional objects, but also their inability to be purely functional – the combination of form to provide for the needs of society is the same form that moves people and contributes to the shaping of their identities. Above all, architecture has had the function of serving humanity since its earliest records. Humanity has become socially dependent upon architecture to shape their lives fundamentally. Although it is common for people to shape the lives of those around them and have emotional implications for other beings, it is harder to understand the significance an inanimate object such as architecture can have on a being. There is seemingly great power in the hands of architects who can design these buildings and ultimately shape the lives of those who inhabit them. Renzo Piano once stated in his Laureate Acceptance Speech, For a child, a building site is magic: today you see a heap of sand and bricks, tomorrow a wall that stands on its own; at the end, it has all

Return  169 become a tall, solid building where people can live. I have been a lucky man: I have spent my life doing what I dreamt as a child.63 An excellent example of the social significance of architecture is seen during medieval times, where religion was highly regarded in both the political scene and everyday life. The high level of significance emanating from these buildings was due to their high social significance and the way they shaped the people within it. “‘Gothic builders have been tight-lipped about the symbolic significance of their projects.’ Nor did they need to say much: an understanding of the spiritual significance of things was so much part of the medieval worldview that it could have been taken for granted.”64 This questions whether, when architecture with a specific tie to society is lost, does that architecture become insignificant? “To say that the church has lost most of its former significance in the modern world is obviously not to deny that many churches continue to get built.”65 Is seems that although the same piece of architecture may exist in the same form at different times, it is the way architecture shapes the lives of individuals that makes it significant. Perhaps the most magical aspect of architecture is the way it depends upon the life around it to make it significant, and the way that although the architecture is not alive, it brings life to the people within it. The word purpose is defined as “the reason for which something is done, created, or for which something exists.”66 Synonyms for the word purpose include motivation, intention, and aspiration. Purpose reflects one’s needs and desires, and therefore evokes commitment and drives corresponding actions. The word purpose originates from the old French word proposer, meaning to propose, to put forward, or set forth an idea for consideration by others.67 This section will examine the historical and philosophical dimensions of purpose, explore the connection between purpose and magic, and finally investigate how purpose allows for re-enchantment in architecture. Purpose gives meaning to our lives. Writer Georges Sorel illustrates the importance of meaning in the context of human history. He states that the driving force behind revolutionary changes has always been the human’s search for meaning. Rational reasons alone could not have induced revolutionary actions. There has always been something more significant, a kind of “poetic and emotional wisdom,” described by Sorel as myth, which calls humans forth into taking actions.68 These myths appeal to our imagination, creativity, and emotions, and promise a different, if not better, future once we take action. Myths thus “enchant” human endeavors by giving them a meaning, a purpose for execution. Without myths there is a lack of the pursuit of meaning, which results in the absence of a purpose in life.69 The seductive power of a purpose to call forth actions is something parallel in architecture. Christian Norberg-Schulz in Intentions in Architecture illustrates the evolution of purpose in architecture throughout human history. In early

170 Return civilizations, there were hardly any distinctions drawn between the practical and religious purpose of architecture. Primitive humans believed that the world was “full of magical forces,” and therefore the primitive hut not only served the practical purpose of providing physical enclosure and protection but expressed humans’ desire to mark their position within a universe of mythical forces. As buildings became differentiated, more typologies begin to emerge, such as churches, schools, and courthouses. What seemed central to distinguishing between these buildings was whether or not they fulfilled the “role of cultural symbolization” or served purely practical purposes.70 Norberg-Schulz identifies four tasks of architecture: physical control, functional frame, social milieu, and cultural symbolization. Architecture, he argues, is a product of a framework made up of these interrelated tasks.71 In other words, these tasks constitute the purpose of architecture and define the problem to which architecture responds. Magicians use magic to serve a purpose. Magic ritualizes human needs and desires, and seeks to make changes and affect the world. Magicians always act with purpose; they utilize their abilities to impact many different aspects of human lives. Magic serves practical purposes, but always goes beyond the rational and appeals to the mythical and a higher dimension. Therefore, to re-enchant architecture, the architect must possess a purpose that goes beyond functional considerations and appeals to the expressive and poetic dimensions of human imagination. Purpose re-enchants architecture with meaning. The possession of a purpose is critical to the architectural design process. A clear purpose delineates a framework consisting of rules and regulations for the design to operate within. Purpose helps the designer set up a hierarchy of tasks to be accomplished and justify every move in the process. Purpose translates to commitment and motivation for architects, as they possess strong desires for expression. Purpose allows architects to persuade effectively with their buildings, as every design decision can be justified with clear intent. Purpose can be related to a concept, idea, or goal that the designer seeks to pursue. Regarding the importance of concepts in architectural design, architect Steven Holl states: “Finding an initial concept for each project that captures the essence of the architectural opportunities unique to that project is, for me, a way into it, the door through which new ideas enter architecture…. For me, what is important is the idea.”72 A central concept always guides Holl’s projects, often influenced by disciplines such as philosophy and science. He begins his design process with quick experiments and tests in the form of sketches and models, from which the purpose or concept emerges. Such a complex of ideas forms the “backbone of the project, guiding future design explorations where” the combination of pragmatics and subjective perceptions come together.73 Purpose helps architects synthesize all aspects of the project into one coherent narrative.

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Figure 6.6 Bloch Building, Nelson-Atkins Art Museum Designed by Steven Holl, Photo: AlasdairW, CC-BY-SA-3.0.

The purpose of architecture closely reflects the architect’s belief system. The purpose will very likely be a product of a complex web of forces that reflect the needs and desires of society, as well as the architect’s pursuits. Throughout history, many architects have expressed their distinct positions on what purpose architecture should serve. To state: a purpose often involves proposing a statement or personal belief and taking a position. Ever-shifting circumstances lead to the co-existence of a multitude of positions architects take to imbue meaning to their architecture. To illustrate, we return to Steven Holl, who has written extensively on how phenomenology is critical to his position in architecture. He writes: “Architecture holds the power to inspire and transform our day-to-day experience.”74 Holl believes that “the challenge for architecture is to stimulate both inner and outer perception; to heighten phenomenal experience while simultaneously expressing meaning, and to develop this duality in response to the particularities of site and circumstance.”75 His strong belief in architecture as a receptacle for experiences is reflected in his buildings. One becomes fascinated by his use of light, color, materials, which imbue the spaces with magical qualities. Holl’s ultimate purpose distinguishes his approach from other architects, leading him to create evocative and enchanting experiences for the users, and illustrates his use of “magical inspiration.”

172 Return In the end, purpose in architecture generates meaningful buildings which reflect the cosmos of their society and thus gives the building its significance in the world. The purpose of a building must be significant in order to have an impact on human lives. Any significant building, in turn, must serve a clear and meaningful purpose. As Landy and Saler state, “we can never know what the future world will resemble, but we must believe in our power to transform the present.”76 This statement reflects the power of purpose, which gives architects the confidence to make architectural interventions for the betterment of society.

VI It is well reported that the Catalonian architect Antonio Gaudi is currently in the process of being named a saint by the Catholic Church. Pope Francis recently met with the organization promoting sainthood for Gaudi, telling them that he hopes the cause moves forward quickly.77 Becoming a saint in the Catholic Church is a difficult three-step process, moving through the stages of Venerable, Blessed, and full-on Saint. To reach the blessed stage, also known as beatification, requires evidence of a miracle. Sainthood or canonization requires proof that the person named has performed two miracles.78 A recent BBC program addressed the issue when interviewing the Rev. Michael Witczak, Associate Professor of Liturgical Studies at the Catholic University of America. He believes that Gaudi’s immense popularity will help in this process. Witczak states: The speedy beatification processes for Pope John Paul II and Mother Teresa of Kolkata indicate to me that popular desire on the part of the ordinary faithful is a key element. …. I think the Catholic Church would like to canonize a layman who is also an artist and a craftsman, an engineer, and a kind of mystic in his prayer life.79 This attempt raises an interesting question for the Church: can an architect such as Gaudi create a miracle?80 We might also ask why Gaudi should be a saint as opposed to others such as Michelangelo or Leonardo da Vinci, as their works certainly contributed to the Church. While Gaudi certainly lived the exemplary life of a saint, much of the discussion on his sainthood revolves around his architecture. A devoted Catholic, he was nicknamed “God’s Architect” long before the beatification campaign, Gaudi was well known as a deeply spiritual person. He was born in 1852. He was inspired by nature as he began working in his father’s metal shop. He never married, and many believed this to be evidence that he chose to live similar to the clergy. Although he designed many prominent buildings throughout Spain, it is his work on this one particular structure, which came to consume his whole life, which is of interest to the Church. At the age of 31, Gaudi began designing the cathedral, Sagrada Família,

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Figure 6.7 Sagrada  Família, Barcelona, Photo: Bernard Gagnon, Spain, CC-BYSA-3.0.

a project that eventually consumed his entire career. While we have previously described the influences on Gaudi’s design process, it will be useful to look at the creation of Sagrada Família specifically. The Basílica i Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família, generally known as the Sagrada Família, is a large Roman Catholic church in Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain, and a UNESCO World Heritage Site.81 In 2010 it was consecrated as a minor basilica by Pope Benedict XVI.82 The building of the Sagrada Família began in 1882, but Antonio Gaudí started working on it in 1883 when he took control of the project. It was not intended to be a cathedral, yet the building is massive, holding over 9000 worshipers. Its ground-plan was likely based on earlier Spanish cathedrals such as Leon Cathedral and Seville Cathedral. Like many cathedrals, the building represents through form the liturgy of the Church. For example, the three entrances symbolize the three virtues Faith, Hope, and Love, and each is dedicated to a part of the life of Christ. During Gaudi’s final decade he refused all other commissions, eventually moving into his basement workshop in the basilica. The Sagrada Família is undoubtedly awe-inspiring and probably, in most cases, an enchanting spiritual experience, but is it or does it create a miracle? A miracle by definition is a surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the

174 Return work of a divine agency.83 The etymology of the word “miracle” comes from Church Latin for a “marvelous event caused by God,” and from mirari, “to wonder at, marvel, be astonished.”84 Synonyms for the word miracle include mystery, prodigy, sign. A miracle may be attributed to a supernatural being such as a deity, a saint, or a religious leader or magic. For the Catholic Church, miracles are seen as works of God. They occur through the prayers or the intercession of a saint. Typically, there is a purpose connected to a miracle. A miracle might be the conversion of a person or persons to the Catholic faith. It might even occur from the building of a church if desired by God. We can then understand how Gaudi’s work on the cathedral could fulfill such requirements. The Church, wishing to be cautious in its approval, says that it maintains particularly stringent requirements in validating a miracle’s authenticity.85 Many miracles said to have been connected to Gaudi have been proposed. Some claim to have been a medical condition cured in a way that leaves doctors astounded. Others claim that it is a miracle that the building of the cathedral caused no serious accidents during construction. More interesting is the claim of it being a miracle that the Sagrada Família has been the scene of some surprising conversions among the international craftspeople working on the building. For example, the Japanese architect Kenji Imai converted to Catholicism upon visiting the Sagrada Família. There is also the case of Etsuro Sotoo. He moved to Barcelona to work on the basilica and also converted to Catholicism.86 The Congregation oversees the process of approving such miracles for the Causes of Saints.87 These examples are striking demonstrations of “magical inspiration.” While these claims are being seriously and carefully considered, as of yet, the Church has not recognized any of the miracles attributed to Gaudi. The term “magic” is often belittled in discussions of spirituality and religion. The Church may likely have wished to disconnect from illusionistic fakery. For the Church, miracles differ from magic in terms of their source. Magic is often seen as a power within a particular person, a natural energy that can manipulate through words and hand motions. In other cases, magic is the activity of spirits commanded by the magician. This distinction raises the question that the individual performing the magic has authority over that power or is the one ultimately controlling it. Miracles are said by some to differ from magic in that they are performed by God, not by humans. This difference is not always clear, as in the case of theurgical or sympathetic magic. Theurgical magic describes the practice of rituals, sometimes seen as magical, performed to invoke the action or evoke the presence of one or more gods, especially to achieve henosis (uniting with the Divine) and perfecting oneself. The Greek Neoplatonist philosopher Proclus relates that theurgy is “a power higher than all human wisdom embracing the blessings of divination, the purifying powers of initiation and in a word all the operations of divine possession.”88 The historian Keith Thomas writes, “Spiritual magic or theurgy was based on the idea that one

Return  175 could reach God in an ascent up the scale of creation made possible by a rigorous course of prayer, fasting and devotional preparation.”89 We can say that Gaudi’s cathedral sets such rituals through the way it is designed. The scholar on magic, Marcel Mauss, writes, “there is probably not a single activity which artists and craftsmen perform, which is not also believed to be within the capacity of the magician.”90 We can also look at sympathetic magic because the cathedral serves as a template through which to explain the Divine. Mauss explains that “magical rites are sympathetic rites.”91 He continues: “Sympathetic rites may, therefore, be either magical or religious.” “The second criterion proposed by Frazer is that a magical rite normally acts on its own, that is, constraints, while a religious rite worships and conciliates.”92 When asking if Gaudi created miracles or magic, we might consider the following questions. Did God make Gaudi an architectural prodigy with the talent to create a beautiful cathedral? Did the cathedral become a sign that converted others to the Catholic faith? Did Gaudi’s cathedral help represent and explain the mystery of God to others? These are questions the Church might ask as they consider the case for Gaudi’s sainthood. The conversion of two visitors to Catholicism after visiting the Sagrada Família may be considered as potential miracles by the Church. The events were life-changing for these individuals, and they experienced epiphanies that altered their paradigm of thinking. We have paired the word miracle with the word epiphany because experiencing a miracle may lead to an epiphany. The words both originated in a religious context, and both represent a surprising and most often welcome event. Epiphany may be defined as an appearance or manifestation, especially of a deity, a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience. An epiphany may be understood as a moment of revelation and insight. The word emerged from epiphaneia, which meant an appearing or manifestation, combined with phainein, to show.93 The term “epiphany” is most commonly associated with the Christian feast held at the beginning of each new year. The holiday (holy day) is a celebration of three Christian miracles, consisting of the visit of the Magi, the baptism of Christ, and the miracle of transforming water into wine at the wedding feast of Cana.94 With a long history in the ancient world, the historian Eleni Pachoumi connects magicians and divine epiphanies in Ancient Greek papyri.95 In contemporary society, we believe that “Epiphanies are momentary experiences of transcendence that are enduring and distinct from other types of developmental change and transformation.”96 They are sudden and significant insights and change a person’s perspective and often give

176 Return new meaning to their life.97 Related to appearance, insight (or sight) may help understand the true meaning of a thing, often through intuition.98 Not unlike the word inspire, epiphany may produce or arouse a feeling, which may suggest a divine influence.99 Like a miracle, an epiphany is connected to magic through theurgy but also a magician’s ability to transform, create, and overturn a paradigm. Epiphanies take many forms, and they can be initiated by a memory, an experience, or a new situation or context. They have often been associated with the arts. Works of art, as we have seen with Gaudi’s Sagrada Famiíia, can reach a state of sublimity that may provoke an epiphany. In his Essay on Architecture, Laugier wrote about the power of art that can enchant, and magically affect the visitor. “[A beautiful building] stirs in us noble and moving ideas and that sweet emotion and enchantment which works of art carrying the imprint of a superior mind arouse in us. A beautiful building speaks eloquently for its architect.”100 With its connection to insight, an epiphany was historically comprehended as the appearance of God, gods, or a superhuman entity. The literary genius Johann Wolfgang von Goethe wrote eloquently about divine or revelatory powers of architecture when he wrote in On German Architecture. From the opening paragraph, he compares the cathedral first to a tree made by God, then to soaring cliffs. The Divine is equated with the creation of sublime nature. “God is the architect who raised mountains that reached the clouds.”101 For Goethe, architecture culminates in rapture.102 Epiphany suggests a divine intervention that is both instantaneous and also astonishingly revealed. “The dialogue with the architect has the tone of a biblical revelation. Goethe positions the architect as a divine figure, as one who speaks, as an angel, in commands and with an inherent sense of necessity.”103 Although once entirely the purview of religion, epiphanies can be part of a secular world, and they fit into the domain of re-enchantment, and thus a return to magic. The philosophical scholar R. Lanier Anderson argues that epiphanies’ importance has relied on their separation from the activities of everyday life.104 He suggests that this understanding of epiphany has eroded and insists that a factor of modernity has replaced epiphanies with representations. In other words, our heightened experiences have been replaced with movies or photographs, for example. This condition predicates the importance of architectural experience. As demonstrated in Sagrada Família, ecclesiastical buildings cause visitors to contemplate the Divine. Humans can be struck with an epiphany in religious spaces, but it is not necessarily religious buildings that provoke heightened experiences that may be related to revelations. Miraculous or magical experiences can happen anywhere. A hike to the top of a mountain may produce an intense feeling of inspiration and elicit questions about a higher being and our place in a miraculous world. Other kinds of built spaces have sparked moments of epiphany. Many who have visited Peter Zumthor’s Thermal Baths in Switzerland have left with a sense of awe. The use of dramatic lighting

Return  177 conditions and tactile materials enhances the experience of the spaces. In a similar comparison, the skylights designed by the architects Steven Holl or Alvaro Siza may prompt visitors to understand the universe as a dynamic system or wonder about the Divine. As such, well-designed secular spaces may instigate awe or insight. They may cause humans to question the Divine and also control nature to inspire people to comprehend another dimension of their experience suddenly. Architects who design these spaces may be performing miracles. Architecture can establish heightened experiences, and architects who build these heightened experiences are magicians, since they create miracles. They work as magicians to control environments and also trigger visitors to think beyond themselves. It is impossible to force humans to think in a certain way through the use of architecture, but architects as magicians can influence emotional states and assist inhabitants in wondering. A miraculous experience or instant insight may be compared to a eureka moment. Defined as an exclamation of an invention or discovery, it often occurs after long contemplation about a specific confusing or unresolved condition. A eureka moment may happen to an inhabitant of an architectural space, but it also connotes a faculty of inspiration and creativity. Architects, in their design processes, may experience the spark of an idea that sets a process in motion. This inspiration may be equated with a vision from a divine source or materialize from a design process that involves magic in the process of making, or magic in the way architects find inspiration in their thinking processes. Antonio Gaudi’s ability to reach a level of the miraculous indeed emerged from his talents and creative processes, whether inspired by God or not. As magicians, architects have the potential to use their creative abilities to influence those who inhabit their buildings.

VII This chapter has discussed ways in which architects can engage reenchantment. The pairings of concepts not only provide an interesting insight into our current situation but also pertain to architecture. These concepts may give architects new insight into their design processes. Mystery and the infinite suggest that architects ponder the immeasurable and remember that mystery gives architecture a particular dimension of interest. Wonder and sacred propose that when designing with the concept of wonder architects should always question and with sacred architects should consider a sense of a place. Order and redemption provide the boundaries and ways to ground architecture. Purpose and significance remind architects of their responsibilities as designers and to consider each building in its context. Miracles and epiphanies raised the issues of inspiring architecture that should be the goal of every structure. Utilizing specific examples, the discussion of these concepts reminds architects of ways to re-enchant their architecture. Although we have chosen pairings of words to provide

178 Return insight, we understand that a great many other ways to connect the ideas of magic to architecture exist. Several examples have illustrated how architects could use magic in the making and magical inspiration to guide their architecture. We have been reminded that architecture represents societies’ search for an understanding of their cosmos. Indeed, magic in the past held an essential role in this search. The chapter has attempted to counter the problems of disenchantment with ten concepts proposed by Landy and Saler to re-enchant society. Although the ten concepts discussed in this chapter were initially proposed to re-enchant society as a whole, we hope that they also reveal aspects of magic that can remain relevant for architecture. It is hoped that such concepts may be applied to our current architecture and design processes. These concepts reflect abstract ideas and philosophical constructs that can be used by architects in contemporary projects to enchant their buildings. It is further hoped that this will help reconnect our architecture to our search for more significant yet still immeasurable things. The seventh and final chapter, as a conclusion, explores how contemporary architects are currently engaging re-enchantment in their work. With new media and technologies used in the design process, architects must rethink their modes of representation and allow for magic to permeate the process. The final chapter will touch on how magic can, for architects, inform the decisions that architects make throughout the design of buildings, which often requires the dexterity of the hand connected to the mind that supports the magic in the making resulting in magical inspiration.

Notes 1 Joshua Landy and Michael Saler, The Re-enchantment of the World: Secular Magic in a Rational Age (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2009), 2. 3 Machines may be considered one of the objects most closely associated with the fortunes of architecture. They may be seen as analogous to inspiration, the force which moves the human mind. See Alexander Tzonis and Diane Lefaivre, “The Machines in Architectural Thinking.” Diadalos 18, no.15 (1985). 4 Merleau-Ponty connects concepts of the visible and invisible to the imagination and the senses of the body. He tells us that the invisible can be imagined but cannot be seen. He writes, “Meaning is invisible, but the invisible is not contradictory of the visible: the visible itself has an invisible inner framework and in in-visible is the secret counterpart of the visible.” Merleau-Ponty believed that the invisible is not non-existent but that it pre-exists in the visible. See Maurice Merleau-Ponty, The Visible and the Invisible, trans. Alphonso Lingis (Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1969), 215. 5 Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “definition.”

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7

Conclusion

Figure 7.1 Muses and Poets. Sarcophagus Relief, Pio Clementino Museum, Photo: Carol M. Highsmith, PD-Highsmith.

It may be said that calling upon the Greek muses for inspiration can be considered a magical act. There are many recorded examples of magic spells that were believed to do just this. However, it is the etymology of the word “muse” that may explain this connection best. The word muse comes from the Greek word Mousaa whose early roots probably originally referred to “mental power” that enables poets to craft verses – the muses were the Greek poets’ divinized concepts of the faculties that help them create and recite poetry. The concept of the muses may also refer to the creative process as a whole.1 Architects attempt to creatively influence and define the effects of nature through the making of their buildings. In an analogous condition, magicians perform rituals in an attempt to influence the forces of nature. At this juncture, it is appropriate to ask: why should architects reconsider the connection between magic and architecture? The answer is because it is possible to learn more about the architects’ design processes through a greater understanding of the traditional meaning of magic. Many current

Conclusion  183 architects have lost an essential element of thinking by eliminating the ideas of magic from their design processes. Acknowledging this loss is essential because concepts of magic can provide architects with crucial analogies and metaphors needed to more fully understand inspiration and creativity.

I Concepts concerning what a building represents are also evident in the rituals and actions found in the traditions of magic and can be helpful to architects. As a function of representation, magic can provide analogies that are helpful to a discussion of creativity. We cannot offer the hope that the inspiration and creativity needed in designing and building a structure is something that can suddenly be conjured from “thin air.” Instead, we can offer the reader thoughts about aspects of the design process that concern the magic in the making, and magical inspiration. Both types of magic are intertwined with one reflecting on the other. While determining concepts in the early stages of design, architects rely on the manipulation of media (magic in the making), and it is through this transformation of materials that inspiration (magical inspiration) emerges. Developing this understanding can assist architects, educators, and students in accepting the ambiguous and spiritual elements in their design process. This understanding is necessary so that they may embrace its transitory qualities, revel in its potential and possibilities, and learn to embrace the things they cannot explain.

II Postmodernism (both architectural and philosophical) sought to question the utopian ideals that Modernism established. Less interested in the control of nature, Postmodernism is more concerned with the traditions of society and the interpretation of signs in contemporary culture. With the abandonment of the idea of progression and a new concern for the cyclical, Postmodernism sees a simulacrum concerned with constant replication.2 The imitation and iteration allow for knowledge that may be lost in the rhizome of process, but it can also stimulate cross-thinking and illuminate unusual connections between diverse ideas. This ability to appreciate the undefined may represent a shift from an attempt to control nature and instead engage in the evolving substance of media and culture. Humans may need to recognize that to rationalize completely does not necessarily achieve harmony with our surroundings – as the human soul (spirit) is at a disconnect.

III Technological advancements, especially in media, have increasingly removed the architect from the craft of the profession. Appearing to be an illusion, simple methods of production in the past may now require little

184 Conclusion

Figure 7.2 Monotone Windows in Tokyo, Photo: Øyvind Holmstad, CC-BY-SA-3.0.

effort and skill to accomplish. Technology provides us with, or merely the illusion of, the effective control over nature, in contrast to the perceived, or attempted, control that emerges from understanding. Architects have tried to imitate established design methods by looking to other disciplines or by developing specific methods to ensure the success of their processes.3 As explored by Geoffrey Broadbent, these may include methods borrowed from empirical, historical, or interpretive disciplines. They may also employ media-driven methods, including techniques to sketch conceptually, diagram, use digital image transformation, and utilize abstract models or any other technique to conjure the ideas and speculation in a design process. This exploration of media acts to substitute for the finished building, since it is easier and less expensive to change a drawing or a model rather than the completed structure. The natural magic in the media assists architects to “do.” Through the action of doing they get

Conclusion  185 closer to a product, the constructed building. Construction is a comparable process (the cause) to how the magician assists humans in feeling that they are working toward an outcome or effect. Typically, the work of the designer is in a constant state of flux. Thus, it is challenging to sustain a primarily linear creative process, as the infusion of unexpected factors requires designers to reassess continually. The creative process must rationalize its irrational behavior as necessary to continually reiterate potential solutions and transform concepts through the manipulation of materials. The creative process may be an act of post-rationalization and may be, in fact, analogous to the various practical applications of magic. Architects continue to use media in their design process because they believe and trust in its powers to assist them in making architecture. They may use ritual, or they may use a trusted medium, but they all know it is through media manipulation that they can “conjure the gods” to help them in a process that is elusive and undefined. Each architect employs a ritual that is called upon, whether it comprises digital, drawn, painted, or modeled processes, that can be trusted to produce, no matter how obscure. These rituals are the actions architects always perform to encourage the development of the project, such as beginning with feasibility studies, site constraints, and program. The processes explore the evolution of the future building. Through substitute media, the project can be conceived and reiterated to find the most appropriate solution. Media helps form and inform the conceptual process, and thus, the project itself.

Figure 7.3 Steven Holl and Kenneth Frampton Discuss a Model in the Stagecraft Exhibition, Photo: Columbia GSAPP Events, CC-BY-SA-4.0.

186 Conclusion

IV The Renzo Piano Building Workshop (RPBW) depended upon the manipulation of materials, as well as three-dimensional modeling of architectural forms, to explore and fabricate architectural concepts. With these conceptual beginnings, the intention of the designers is manifest through the process of making. These early concepts are done both through ideas and manipulation. This innovative office can push the boundaries of materiality. With a process that revolves around the making/doing aspects of architecture, they can employ various design techniques in an approach to the building that investigates all possibilities. Renzo Piano writes: I try to make my workshop a place to undertake the search for “balance,” rejecting confinement within formalism, eliminating boundaries that might interrupt my process. All kinds of materials, environments, ways of thinking, sensibilities, and methodologies must combine without any obstructions. Encompassing distinct times and objects, the balance emerging from this process generates a particular solution for a given architecture. These are the reasons why I believe that details and wholes, nature and technology, tradition and future, as well as rules and freedom can coexist without contradiction.4 When contemporary architects are dependent upon the efficiencies of the computer, the RPBW appears to be a workshop in every sense of the word. Filled with a variety of wood and tools, the construction of details, models, and large-scale mock-ups allows those in the office to view threedimensionally and iterate and reiterate the form and materials of which the future building will be constructed. A consummate artisan and craftsman, his methods encourage him to touch and physically shape the elements of the structure. Piano cares about a “hands-on” approach where he is willing to contemplate the direct interaction with construction materials. He implores these materials to speak to him and finds inspiration in the process. Some architects locate conceptual beginnings in the “signs” of context or site. Other architects sketch anything related, hoping that inspiration will imbue them with brilliance. Others will tear cardboard to replicate construction. These techniques or methods often bear little resemblance to anything concrete and are vague in their inception. If these “methods” are inconclusive and undefined, it is remarkable to imagine that architects continue to rely on these “unscientific” techniques. Possibly these vague beginnings have, over time, provided means for stimulation of the imagination or exert a physical manifestation that proves helpful to visualize complex constructs. Thus, in making and doing, architects are continually appealing to the gods for assistance, or in other words, they trust the various media and methods that have previously inspired results and proved successful. Kris and Kurz write about the formulation of something from nothing that is the skill of the artist and architect. “The mind’s own power

Conclusion  187

Figure 7.4 Tadao  Ando’s Exhibition at the National Art Center, Tokyo, Photo: Alejandro, CC-BY-SA-4.0.

to shape now boldly wakes, as definite from indefinite it makes.”5 Vague beginnings such as sketches do not need to appear “realistic,” they can be abstract. Nevertheless, the more abstract they are, the more it allows them to spark ideas for their author. [T]he “stronger” the belief in the magic function of the image, in the identity of the picture and depicted, the less important is the nature of that image. …Whenever a high degree of magic power is attributed to an object – whether this is the fetish of primitive men or the miracleworking ritual image of civilized man – its resemblance to nature is rarely of decisive value.6 The trusted medium, no matter how loosely connected to the final construction, functions in an undefinable and elusive manner, but this may be its strength to infuse the process with the less definable. If there is a desire to believe in the medium, its likeness is of little consequence in the finished product.

V Architects should embrace the immaterial and spiritual in their design processes, since it is human nature to maintain a spiritual dimension in life, and to remove it may be an artificial abstraction. Throughout the process, architects should immerse themselves in the ambiguous and the mythical.

188 Conclusion

Figure 7.5 Turmbau zu Babel Gouache, Author: Anonymous, CC-BY-2.0.

In this way they can come to terms with the unknown, attempt to define the unknown, and begin to understand the difference between comprehending nature and the things we can (or cannot) do to control nature. By removing a sense of the magic or the spiritual from our designs, we may be removing a tool that has been traditional in architecture. When a traditional and possibly necessary instrument has been eliminated, it is important to reassess and question the new position. Architects must utilize every method or mechanism possible to help achieve beautiful and meaningful architectural constructions. They should not automatically produce but rather listen to the things that move the process and be responsive to their senses. They should employ technology to enhance the life of their buildings and look for inspiration. Magic in these terms is not necessarily the natural magic of doing that is employed in design iteration, but rather the result of the process. Through the manipulation, spiritual inspiration is often recognized. One way to search for the spiritual is to employ the inspirational qualities of magic as a metaphor. Looking at examples of how architects have embraced the metaphor of magic in their designs may elucidate this process. Remembering Louis Kahn and the later work of Le Corbusier, many contemporary architects are searching for the methods or processes to enrich

Conclusion  189 the spiritual and phenomenological aspects of their buildings. Thus, appealing to the muses, employing ritual or choosing the tranquil or sacred environment may allow architects to receive perceived divine inspiration, hoping for a result that may also become institutionalized for further successful use.

VI The architect Frank Gehry spoke about relying on magic for his creativity during the annual meeting of the Society for Neuroscience in 2006. He may be referring to magic as an illusion, but in this context it appears that he is talking about the inspiration that occurs to him instantaneously during

Figure 7.6 Architecture Student Designing, Photo: Hilary Neal, Personal Photo for Albert C. Smith.

190 Conclusion design – the conclusions that are found from the manipulation of his design media. As Gehry describes his serendipitous process: There is a gear that turns and lights a light bulb and turns a something and energizes this hand, and it picks up a pen and intuitively gets a piece of white paper and starts jiggling and wriggling and makes a sketch. And the sketch somehow relates of all the stuff I took in.7 His sketches have an abstract quality, often appearing like automatic writing that requires constant interpretation. Gehry coined this term informed intuition by “know[ing] the functional issues backward and forwards.”8 Alongside his sketches, he works through design by exploring media and allowing the unpredictability of the design process to show in his temporal models. These models are not pre-formed or rational; instead, the serendipity of the process is epitomized by immediate manipulation. The paper is torn and pasted in a design session that includes an evaluative process of placing and replacing. Here Gehry continually assesses the look and the function of the parts through the paper and digital applications. [He] promoted the value of risk-taking and free association, warning of the danger of being too prescriptive with the process: [w]e need to allow for intuitive impulses that are very informed. What enables you to find the cure for cancer is not to follow steps, A, B, C. … Some accidental thing in the laboratory will happen. … You follow your intuition, it is an informed intuition, and you have the Eureka moment. … For me, if I knew in advance where to go, I wouldn’t go there.9 The making informs the process, and thus doing reveals the architectural intention, as he locates the magical inspiration in the making.

VII Architects must trust and have faith in their design processes, remembering that magic can provide insight into a process, or an action, and not necessarily a solution. This process depends upon what is most often a non-linear ritual. Magic can be helpful to designers to find deeper meaning in architectural exploration while at the same time envisioning the future with responsibility. Reminded of Le Corbusier, who was able to employ both, the rational and the spiritual, architects in their attempt to control nature should consider magic in creating spaces for safe and inspirational inhabitation. To be able to control nature may be an unreasonable desire. Since architects can never completely harness nature, architects can influence the imperfection in the process. By rejecting entirely rational conclusions, they can receive a new understanding from an irrational process that needs continual

Conclusion  191

Figure 7.7 Detail of Agora Olympic Stadium, Photo: Massimo Finizio, CC-BYSA-2.0-IT.

iteration. Maintaining some faith in magic assists architects in exploring and reveling in the search. By exploring through the use of diverse media and techniques of design, architects may reinforce a belief that these things provide a method to think through a process. This trust, or faith, gives architects a foundation to proceed with confidence based on experience. Architects should not be afraid to embrace the unexpected and maintain a mind open to possibilities. Learning from Gehry’s informed intuition, architects should consider abductive reasoning in their design processes. Abduction suggests the best explanation, and it is a method of reasoning in which one chooses the hypothesis that would, if true, best explain the relevant evidence.10 It is comparable to the educated guesses architects make throughout the design process, as architecture is both a science and an art. We suggest that architects use any design materials available to them, especially in unconventional ways. They should continually view the tangible remnants of the process from divergent angles or dimensions. Architects should consider how materials are joined, the inherent nature of materials, and the potential of new materials. As a means to inform the design process, it is often essential to allow emotions to prevail, to ask philosophical questions, or questions that cannot be answered, and to provoke the spiritual and the magical.

192 Conclusion It has been said that the awe of wondrous things is not diminished by knowledge of their real or scientific explanations. Humans can be astonished by or appreciate the beauty in various things, either natural or constructed, and yet comprehend that thing’s underlying structure. The historian Jane Bennett, when discussing ways to re-enchant the world, is credited with using the example of a prism. She suggests that we can be fascinated by the rainbow even though we understand how the bending and separating of light make a rainbow visible to us. As architects, we should not deny the technology available to us; we should appreciate exceptional experiences we can include within our buildings that make the spaces for the humans that inhabit our designed buildings as enchanting as possible. The architect and engineer Santiago Calatrava may provide an architectural example of this use of technology. Calatrava employs the most stripped-down forms that appear to be analogous to animal bones and sinew. These shapes are the moment diagrams for structural forms. Although we understand Calatrava’s use of the bare necessity of the structural form, the forms of the structure are, never the less, incredibly beautiful. Learning which emerges from questioning and continual iteration requires years of development, dedication, and practice. To the layperson, the complex design process may appear to be an unexplainable illusion. However, this process demands a continual action of doing, of magic in the making, and searching that trusts in the manipulation of media resulting in a precise and definable construction. The act of architectural creation also requires remaining open to the unexpected and the magical inspiration discovered through embracing possibilities. It is these two types of magic to which we refer and advocate.

Notes

Index

Note: Page numbers in italics refer to figures. Aalto, A. 132–3 Agora Olympic Stadium 191 Agrippa, H.C. 50–2, 90, 91, 98 Alberti, L.B. 88, 163 alchemy 128–9, 136–8 amulets 39–40, 44; “protective spirits” 69, 83 analogies 122–3, 126, 133–4, 182–3; and metaphors 1–2, 21, 111, 112, 183; see also Daedalus; The Sorcerer's Apprentice Ancient China 40–1, 83–4; Imperial Court, Peking (van Meurs) 35 Ancient Egypt 8, 38–40, 42, 50; Imhotep 10, 11, 66–71 Ancient Greece 11, 21, 23, 34, 42–3, 50, 104–5; Daedalus 10, 37–8, 71–6, 162, 164–5 Ancient Rome 43–5, 50; Pantheon Rotunda, interior view of 15; and Postmodernism 142; Vitruvius 10, 12, 52, 71, 76–81 Ando, T.: Exhibition at National Arts Center, Tokyo 187 animals: extispicy 40, 83; and animals in foundations 85 animism and spiritual beings 7–8, 31 Arabs/Islam 36, 47, 85 architectural knowledge and practices, historical development 11–14 archetypes 7, 31–8, 57 astrology 40, 49, 50, 91; and alchemy 128–9, 136–8; and astronomy 47–8, 50–2, 80–1, 83, 88–90 Atharva Veda 41 AT&T building, New York 144 augurs 45, 77, 78, 81

authority/status of magicians/architects 8–11, 30, 63–6 automata/deux qua machina 105–8, 111, 112; Clockwork with an Alarm Mechanism (Nathaniel Dominy V) 97; Descartes 108–10 axis-mundi 27–8, 34, 129 Bacon, F. 102 Ban, S. 157–8 Barbaro, D. 88, 90 Baroque architecture 101–2 Baroque hydraulic gardens 108 Barragán, L. 132 Benevolo, L. 126, 127 Bennett, J. 2, 192 Bernard, F. 49 black vs. white magic 166–7 “blessers” 46 Bloch Building, Nelson-Atkins Art Museum (Holl) 171 body-mind dualism 110 Bolshevik Revolution 126 Bonatti, G. 48 Bonewits, I. 54 Borobudur Temple, Indonesia 6 Brion Tombs (Scarpa) 153–6 Brown, O. 21 Buddhist buildings 35; stupas 33–4 The Building of the Temple Begun 1 Bulfinch, T. 21, 75 Calatrava, S. 192 calendars 41, 83 Campbell, J. 32 Capilla de Villaviciosa, Córdoba, dome of 101

194 Index cardinal directions 34–6 Caryatids 43, 44, 79–80 Catholicism/Catholic Church 45–7, 49, 87–8, 98, 99, 106–8; Gaudi 122–6, 172–5, 176 cave dwellings 28 cave paintings 14–15, 27, 29–30 Chandigarh murals (Le Corbusier) 136–7 “charmers” 46 Chartres Cathedral, Zodiac signs in 48, 49 Christianity 45, 51, 56, 86–7; Epiphany 175; and Judaism 53; Russian Orthodox Church 126; see also Catholicism/Catholic Church Cirlot, J.E. 125–6 cities: horoscopes for 49; recapturing lost “sense of place” 143; Roman 76–7 classical world see Ancient Greece; Ancient Rome Clockwork with an Alarm Mechanism (Nathaniel Dominy V) 97 community/“tribe”28–30 Constructivist movement, Soviet Russia 125, 126–9 copying/imitation 133; classical/ historical allusion 142, 143–5 craft 156 creativity 18–19, 140, 183, 189–90 creator, architect/magician as 65 cycles of life 31 Daedalus 10, 37–8, 71–6, 162, 164–5 “daidala” 71, 73–4 da Vinci, Leonardo 107 de Botton, A. 167 de Honnecourt, V. 11–12, 12 deception 64–5 Deconstructivism 145–6 Dee, J. 53, 99, 100–1 definition, creation of 153–4 demonstration, building as 153–4 Derrida, J. 145 Descartes, R. 108–10, 124, 157 design processes 20, 182–92; drawings and models 66; technological advances 17–19 dessin, concept of 135 deux ex machina 104–5, 104 deux qua machine see automata dexterity 29, 63–4 disenchantment 2, 97–8, 99, 103, 113, 120–2; see also re-enchantment

divine intervention, appeals to 4, 5 divino artista 9–10, 70–1, 79 Dodds, E.R. 5, 43, 44–5 Dominy V, N. 97 Doshi, B. 141 drawing/drawings 11–12, 70–1, 92, 124, 190; see also representation Dürer, A. 13 Earth: cosmos and life forms 50–1; and heaven, link between 33–4, 35–6; origins of 32–4 Eco, U. 70–1 Egypt see Ancient Egypt Eisenmen, P. 146 El Lissitzky 128, 128 Eliade, M. 27, 34, 159–60 enchantment 2, 131–4; see also disenchantment; re-enchantment epiphanies, miracles with 172–7 evil supernatural beings/spirits 31, 46–7; see also amulets; rituals/rites; talismans evil vs. good (black vs. white) magic 166–7 extispicy, for divination 40, 83 Fall of Icarus (Rubens) 72 Feng Shui 8, 34, 41 Ficino, M. 13, 90–1 Fludd, R. 100 form and order 139–40, 161–6 Frascari, M. 104, 158, 159 Frazer, J. 5, 6, 7, 8, 18, 29, 30, 31, 32, 43, 133, 175 Frontisi-Ducroux, F. 73 functional architecture 129–31 future: foretelling by augurs 45; representations and influence of 5–6 Gadamer, H.-G. 16 ganlans: Dong tribe, China 84 gardens, hydraulic 108 Gardner, H. 122 gargoyles 85–8 Gaudi, A. 122–6, 172–5, 176, 177 Gehry, F. 189–90, 191 geomancy 12, 36–7 geometry see under mathematics Ghirardo, D. 142 Giorgi, F. 52–3, 90–1 Goethe, J.W. von 113–14, 176 Gombrich, E. 2, 3 Graves, M. 143 Guggenheim Museum (Wright) 163

Index  195 harmonic proportional principles/ balance 51–3, 91–2 Heidegger, M. 21, 157 Heka 38, 70 hermeneutical approach 21–2 Hermes 21–2, 42, 128 Herod's temple 55 Hersey, G. 101 Hestia 21; Fire of 34 Hinduism 33, 36, 41–2, 84 Holl, S. 170, 171, 177, 185 homeopathic magic 5, 31, 87 Homer 42 horoscopes: for cities 49; for Uraniborg 91 houses/dwellings: axis-mundi 27–8, 34; ganlans: Dong tribe, China 84; as machines 14, 104, 116–17; and tombs 68 Howard, D. and Longair, M. 92 hydraulic gardens 108 Imhotep 10, 11, 66–71 imitation see copying immeasurable things 110–13, 122–6, 133–4, 138–9, 152–3 Imperial Court, Peking (van Meurs) 35 India: Chandigarh murals (Le Corbusier) 136–7; Hinduism 33, 36, 41–2, 84 Indian Institute of Management (IIM), Ahmedabad (Kahn) 140–1 Industrial Revolution 113, 115 infinite and mystery 152–6 informed intuition 190, 191 inspiration 18–19, 20; “magical inspiration” 20, 161, 164, 165, 171, 174, 178, 183 Integra Naturae Speculum (Fludd) 100 intellectual magic 99, 100–1 International Style 130–1 interpretive skills 29, 30 Islam/Arabs 36, 47, 85 Johnson, P. 130, 143–4 Josephson-Storm, J. 2 Judaism/Talmudic tradition 53, 112 Jung, C. 32, 57, 135, 139 Kahn, L. 14, 117, 138–41, 163–4, 165 Kepler, J. 123 Kieckhefer, R. 46, 47 Kimbell Art Museum, Fort Worth (Kahn) 137, 139 Kostof, S. 40, 69, 84–5, 162, 163

Kris, E. and Kurz, O. 18, 186 Kwan, A. 90, 91 labyrinths 37–8, 71, 74–5, 76 Lainier Anderson, R. 176 Landy, J. and Saler, M. 20, 150–1, 159, 172, 178 Laugier, M.-A. 176 Law of Similarity and Law of Contact/ Contagious Magic 5, 8, 17, 29–30, 65, 85, 87, 132, 133 Le Corbusier 14, 116–17, 134–8, 163, 190 Lethaby, W.R. 8, 32–3, 34, 35, 36, 37–8 light 139 Lucca Cathedral, Labyrinth 37 Lucian 113–15 Lull, R. 48, 50 machines 103; deux ex machina 104–5; deux qua machina see automata; houses/dwellings as 14, 104, 116–17; Industrial Revolution 113, 115; passive thinking 98, 104, 112 magic: historical definition of 4; practices around the world 7–8; relationship to architecture 1–6 magic squares 36–7 magic wands 40, 42 “magical inspiration” 20, 161, 164, 165, 171, 174, 178, 183 making and doing 186–7 Malinowski, B. 2–3, 7, 31, 49, 98, 99 mandalas 57, 164 Martinell, C. 123, 124, 125 Marxism 126, 129, 130, 131 mason's lodges/guilds 11–12 materials 129–31, 157–8 mathematics 12–13; automata 108–10; and geometry 51–3, 76–8, 84–5, 88–92, 99, 100–2, 103–4, 123–4, 140–1; measurable and immeasurable things 110–13, 122–6, 133–4, 138–9, 152–3; see also numbers Mauss, M. 8, 9, 11, 17, 18, 63, 65, 66, 133, 175 Maya 41–2 mecanique spirituelle 14, 135, 138 Melancholia I (Dürer) 13 Mesopotamia 35, 40, 69, 82–3 Mexico 132 Middle Ages 11–12, 45–9, 84–8, 100 Mies van der Rohe, L. 129–30 military camps/castra, Roman 77–8 Minotaur 10, 38, 71, 74–6, 136

196 Index miracles with epiphanies 172–7 models 69; Gaudi 123, 124–5; Hamburg (Temple of Solomon) 55; Stagecraft Exhibition 185; Tatlin 125, 126–9 modernism 121–2; enchantment and magic 131–4; Gaudi 122–6, 172–5, 176, 177; Kahn 14, 117, 138–41, 163–4, 165; Le Corbusier 14, 116–17, 134–8, 163, 190; Mies van der Rohe and International Style 129–31; Postmodernism 141–6, 183; Tatlin 125, 126–9 monomyths 32 Monotone Windows, Tokyo 184 Monument of the Third International (Talin) 125, 126–9 Moore, C. 143 mountains, symbolism of 33–4, 69, 83 muses and poets 182 Museum of Modern Art, New York 130–1 music: harmonic proportional principles/balance 51–3, 91–2 mystery and infinite 152–6 National Parliament Building, Bangladesh 163–4 nature 2–3; control of 4–5, 7–8, 10, 138, 139–40, 190–1; cycles of life 31; and early forms of science 7; wood 132–3, 158 Neoplatonism 52 Newton, I. 99, 101, 123 Nightingale, A. 157, 159 Norberg-Schulz, C. 169–70 Notre-Dame du Haut at Ronchamp (Le Corbusier) 134, 135–6, 137 numbers 12–13, 23, 36–7, 41, 43; and proportions 81; seven 23, 36, 135, 136–8; see also mathematics Nuremberg parade grounds 165, 166 observational skills 29, 30, 64 omens, divination of 40 order: and form 139–40, 161–6; and redemption 151–2, 165–7 pagodas 33–4 Palladio, A. 91–2 Pantheon Rotunda, interior view of 15 Parker, R. 42–3 Pataikos on Crocodiles amulet 39 Perez-Gomez, A. 73–4, 75

persuasive capacity 64–5 Pevsner, N. 151, 168 Philip, Gnostic Gospel of 14 Philopseudes (Lucian) 114–15 Piano, R. 168–9; Renzo Piano Building Workshop (RPBW) 186 Piazza d'Italia, New Orleans 143 Pico della Mirandola, G. 52 Plato 23, 43 Pliny 30 Plotinus 45 The Poem of the Right Angle (Le Corbusier) 135–6 Portland Public Service Building 143, 144 Postmodernism 141–6, 183 priests/priest-magicians 33, 38–9, 44–5, 69–70, 84 Promontory Apartments of Chicago 120 proportions: harmonic proportional principles/balance 51–3, 91–2; and numbers 81 Punins, N. 127–8 purpose and significance 167–72 pyramids 68, 69 Pythagoras 34, 43 Pythagorean principles and practitioners 12–13, 23, 51–2, 90 questioning 159 Rappaport, R. 133, 155 re-enchantment 20, 115–16, 117, 150– 2, 177–8, 192; infinite and mystery 152–6; miracles with epiphanies 172– 7; order and form 161–6; significance and purpose 167–72; wonder and sacred 156–61 redemption 151–2, 165–7 Renaissance 10–11, 12–13, 49–53, 88–92, 98–104, 105–8 Renzo Piano Building Workshop (RPBW) 186 representation 14–17, 63–4, 66, 112 Riskin, J. 105–6, 107 rituals/rites 17, 65–6, 133, 155, 174–5, 185; Theurgist Performing Rituals to Exercise Divine Powers 62 Rubens, P.P. 72 Russian Orthodox Church 126 Saarinen, E. 133–4 sacred and wonder 156–61

Index  197 Sagrada Familia Cathedral (Gaudi) 172–5, 176; model of 122, 123, 125 St. Louis Arch 134 Scarpa, C. 133, 153–6 science: and disenchantment 2; early forms of 7, 47–8, 50 scientific revolution: and rationalization 113–17; and Renaissance 98–104 Scott Brown, D. 142 Seligman, K. 7, 31, 46, 47 shadow burying 85 significance and purpose 167–72 silence and light 139 skills 29, 30, 63–4; and craft 156 The Sorcerer's Apprentice (Goethe and Lucian) 113–15, 116 Sorel, G. 169 soul and spirit 110–13 Soviet Russia 125, 126–9 space vs. place 160 spaces, experience of 160–1 Speer, A. 165, 167 spells 39, 44, 182; A Witch Casting Spells 3 spiritual dimension 13–14, 19, 187–9 spiritus mundi 90 status of magicians/architects 8–11, 30, 63–6 Stephenson-Storm, J. 121 talismans 15, 29, 36, 51, 66, 87–8, 89–91, 100 Tatlin, V. 125, 126–9 technology: advances 17–19, 183–5; and méchanique spirituelle 14, 134– 5, 138; and new materials 129–31; Scientific and Industrial Revolutions 113–17; and techne 75–6 Temple of Jerusalem 54–7 Temple of Solomon 34, 52, 54–6 temples 53–7, 83, 84; Borobudur Temple, Indonesia 6; The Building of the Temple Begun 1; and tombs 33–4, 68–9 Terrace House, Vancouver, Canada 158 thaumaturgy 53–4 theatrical automata 107 Therme Vals (Zumthor) 160, 161, 176–7

theurgy 5, 54, 155, 174–5; theurgical and goetic magicians 44–5; Theurgist Performing Rituals to Exercise Divine Powers 62 Thomas, K. 46, 49–50, 51, 99, 102, 174–5 time/calendars 41, 83 timeless architecture 140–1 tombs 33–4, 68–9 Transitional (Cardboard) Cathedral, New Zealand 158 trees, symbolism of 32–3, 136–7 Trobriand Islanders 31 Tschumi, B. 145–6 Tuan, Y.-F. 160 Turmbau zu Babel Gouache 188 Turner, V. 133, 155 TWA Flight Center 133–4 Tycho Brahe's Mural Quadrant 89–90, 91 Tyng, A. 140 Uraniborg 89–90, 91 van Meurs, J. 35 Vasari, G. 10–11, 65, 66 Venice 133, 156 Venturi, R. 141–2, 143–5 Vesely, D. 16–17, 123 Vidal, G. 8–9 Vitruvius 10, 12, 52, 71, 76–81, 88, 101 water 81; hydraulic gardens 108 Weber, M. 2, 102–3, 113 A Witch Casting Spells 3 Wigley, M. 146 Witczak, M. 172 Wittgenstein, L. 158 Wittkower, R. 55, 88, 91–2 wonder and sacred 156–61 wood 132–3, 158 Wright, F.L. 163 writing 39, 40 Yates, F. 52–3, 102 ziggurats 23, 33–4, 69, 83 Zoroaster 30–1, 66, 82 Zumthor, P. 160, 161, 176–7