Seeing & Observing

Illustration from Harvard Magazine

In the latest Harvard Magazine is an excerpt from a new book by Maria Konnikova: Mastermind: How to Think Like Sherlock Holmes.  In the book is a conversation between Holmes and Dr. Watson from Doyle’s  “A Scandal in Bohemia” which points to the necessity of “observing” rather than “seeing”.

 “You see, but you do not observe. The distinction is clear. For example, you have frequently seen the steps which lead up from the hall to this room.”

“Frequently.”

“How often?”

“Well, some hundreds of times.”

“Then how many are there?”

“How many? I don’t know.”

“Quite so! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That is just my point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, because I have both seen and observed.”

I couldn’t agree more with Ms Konnikova.  In the business of architectural illustration we tend to focus on the basics of constructing a model, a view and an accurate rendering. We don’t put much emphasis on looking at existing buildings in real conditions over an extended time period, and none on trying to capture (and therefore “observing”) existing buildings in on-site drawings or paintings. The client is in a hurry, the architect is in a hurry, and we are easily swept along by the hurry of the modern world. Technology adds to the feeling that we can “see” it all with cell phone shots and a Googled world. 

I have a section in my book called “Learning to See” which advocates for more serious “observing”. More importantly, there are schools teaching traditional art to the new generation; schools that demand serious observation.

Perhaps a new world of more profound understanding is coming. One can hope.

Aliens and Aphrodite

Two articles caught my eye recently. Both address the problem of design and beauty, which is central to my book.

Michael Mehaffy and Nikos A. Salingaros: The Architect Has No Clothes, in Guernica, an on-line magazine of art & politics, analyses the alienation of designers and the society that they serve...

Empire State Plaza, Albany, NY (wikimedia commons)

"Have you ever looked at a bizarre building design and wondered, “What were the architects thinking?” Have you looked at a supposedly “ecological” industrial-looking building, and questioned how it could be truly ecological? Or have you simply felt frustrated by a building that made you uncomfortable, or felt anger when a beautiful old building was razed and replaced with a contemporary eyesore? You might be forgiven for thinking “these architects must be blind!” New research shows that in a real sense, you might actually be right."

The authors go on to cite a number of studies that show that architects see the world differently than ordinary people (they call it 'Architectural Myopia'). To any second year architectural student this is obvious (and the parents of said student are seen as kindly but boorish). To any "ordinary" person who has dealt with an architect, it is equally obvious that said architect is interesting and perhaps brilliant, but has a curiously inhuman view of reality.

This is one of those times when "nurture", or the education of a person, makes a profound change that can overwhelm the natural human inclinations. It is also important to note that the most "out there" architects are below the age of 30. Older architects seem to settle back into a design attitude that takes into account the need for architecture to accommodate real people, while keeping an "architectural" sense.

The authors go on to date this Architectural Myopia to the early 1900's, driven by the industrial revolution and the breakdown of the traditional order. "Peter Behrens, the father of corporate branding, was given the challenge of developing the first architectural “branding” for the buildings of the German Electrical Equipment Firm AEG. He did so by using elementary industrial geometries, formed into a romantic and iconic expressive shape. The building itself was now a kind of billboard for the company—an attention-getting new product design in its own right. It was not a coincidence that three of his young colleagues went on to profoundly shape architecture in the 20th Century: Le Corbusier, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, and Walter Gropius."

I am not sold on their solutions to this problem (community involvement, etc.), but the article certainly nails the problem. Read the whole thing.

Old New York State Capitol Building, Albany, NY (wikimedia Commons)

Beauty Now in the Eye of the Algorithm - New image recognition technology judges photographic aesthetics looks at a new computerized way of recognizing "beauty"...



"New technology from Xerox can sort photos not just by their content but also according to their aesthetic qualities, such as which portraits are close-in and well-lit, or which wildlife shots are least cluttered."

This lead paragraph covers the strengths and the limitations of such a program. "Close-in", "well-lit", and "uncluttered" are all good rules to follow in getting a pleasing image. And I'm sure that an algorithm can be created that covers a dozen other rules. This computerized system is especially useful in portraits, where the focus is on a familiar thing, but the "beauty" is in studying the variation in detail.

What is missing here is that humans are drawn to more then a set of rules. Once the rules are established and applied regularly, someone will do the exact opposite, just to stand out. Eventually lots of people will be "rebelling", and you will find a new "style" that is surrounded by its own rules. The new style gets established, new rebels go to work, and the cycle keeps going. The Style magazines of the New York Times are a constant reminder of this never ending rebirth.

As much as I like new technology, I doubt that computers will ever "settle" the definition of beauty. However, using new programs to explore the question sounds like fun.

Reading Art Books

I just finished "reading" J. C. Leyendecker, by Laurence S. Cutler & Judy Goffman Cutler (Abrams, New York, 2008), and it reminded me of something I have taken for granted my entire life: different books are read in different ways.  Reading fiction, history or biography is a "start at the beginning" business.  It is linear, and if well written, can be profitably read from beginning to end.

An art book like J. C. Leyendecker is a different thing; at least to a visual artist.  The pictures come first - no reading of words, just paging through to absorb the images and save the good ones in the brain's image bank.  A day or two later a viewing of the images again, but stopping to read the captions to get the materials, size, technique, etc.  Finally, a week or two later if the previous "readings" have piqued my interest, read cover to cover.  By the way, this book is excellent on all levels and is well worth picking up.

Aside1...  I'd love to know what percentage of the population reads art books in this "image first" way.  Also, what percentage reads art books cover to cover, and how many (like my wife) who avoid them altogether.

Aside2...  Military history and economics (among other subjects) tend to be written and read linearly, but necessarily have many maps, graphs and tables that make reading them more jagged and "skip-a roundish".  Complex subjects in general make one stop, reread and absorb (and are perhaps a different category again).

Anyway, the number of art books that I have actually read entirely is quite small - a fraction of the books I own or have checked out of the library.  And, I treat the internet in the same way: images first, text later.

Oh, and Leyendecker?  An amazing artist with the ability to be highly stylized (see book cover) or rough and ready (above); but always a first class recorder of reality.  I was put off at first by his relentless fashionable look, but was won over by his obvious talents (note the range in the following pieces).  It was also impressive that at a time when photography was easily used to complete paintings, he was said to work exclusively from models.

Reading and Writing

This curious relationship between artists and art books has comforted me in writing my own book.  I am writing it in the same way that I would read it; pictures first.  (actually this was the way I wrote my masters thesis - diagrams and graphs first, then text)

So, I began each section (in this case a two page spread) with a group of images that are examples of the principle that I am going to talk about.  I weed them out and decide on a sequence that will bring the idea out, clarify it, and finally exemplify it in a finished architectural rendering.

Next, I sketch out the layout of the images and text, following the sequence arguement.

Finally I write the text, and assemble the page in Word, so that I will have a complete, detailed layout to present to a publisher or critic/editor.  Although it is not the final product, it is complete enough that there is no confusion about the subject, image quality and vision for the final product.

Enough!!!  Back to the book.