To Bring To Light
Empty Room, 1992, © Mark Citret
“Whatever is fashioned, let it be plain and simple, and for the good and substantial quality which becomes your calling and profession, unembellished by any superfluities, which add nothing to its goodness or durability.”
Philemon Stewart, Holy Land of Zion, 1840“ ‘Tis a gift to be simple…”
Joseph Brackett, Simple Gifts, 1848“In art, economy is always beauty.”
Henry James, The Altar of the Dead, preface, 1895
The quality of simplicity is an expression of the essential, without further adornment, elaboration, or augmentation. This can be manifested in the intrinsic elegance of the expression—visual, formal or otherwise— in the mathematical sense of the word elegance, in which there might be several solutions to a question, but where the elegant one spins off multiple other aspects or issues which were not initially part of the perceived problem. A kind of radiant clarity is given plain form.
There are assumptions that the quality of simplicity is found by reduction; by the removal of extra parts or elements—as in the traditional definition of sculpture as a carving away or removal from an already extant larger whole. True simplicity is intrinsic: neither added nor subtracted. Hence its difficult inception. A kind of false or hollow simplicity—simple reduction—carries none of the depth of the authentic qualities; mere visual simplicity may carry no real meaning at all.
In a culture leaning toward saturation and ideas of cleverness, originality, and novelty, the terminology of simplicity—plain, basic, mute, silence, understatement—is rare and considered by many to be pejorative. In art history the term minimal was appropriated to describe work which was in no way reductive, but seemed a direct contradiction to the gestural and expressive manner of previous decades—though it carried as much, if not more, content and meaning.
Finding simplicity and bringing it to light from the realm of the unconscious, or from a set of existing ideas, resists description. The act of having an idea remains that of an individual mind, despite the current popularity of collaboration as a precept. Another person, several, or many may contribute towards the moment; however, it is an unknown synthesis in the single mind of a human being from which an idea ultimately emerges. Neuroscientists have yet to define the mechanisms by which this occurs, and perhaps will never be capable.
Creative process is a highly misleading term, as much of the supposed ‘process’ is indefinable (or personal) leaving the discussion of ideation, cognition, and conception problematic at best. If one adds to that the quality of simplicity as a desired outcome, it becomes almost impossible to try to be clear or accurate. The bringing of an idea to fruition, or existence in a “real” context or situation, is another aspect of this activity which it is important to understand; experience and empirical evidence are iterative parts of the next search for an idea. Actual experience and acquired insight seem highly undervalued of late.
Preparation for inception may involve intense gathering of related data and ideas, and also of non-direct or analogous data—or it may involve simple contemplation and passive openness. Alvar Aalto’s metaphorical “white table” as a tabula rasa for the observation of related material—a kind of idea garden—provides for the accidents of placement, and other less-clear structural relationships between things moving toward imaging and imagination. 1 Current interest in algorithms and parametric modeling attempts to generate models in which an idea might emerge worthy of evaluation.
One can frame the inquiry, one can set parameters, and one can assemble directly relevant information, inspirational materials, and even oblique research towards seeding the search. But ultimately, ideas arrive without notice or regard to timing. History abounds with examples of ideas that came in a dream or from sub/liminal—beneath the threshold—states; waking and pensive states especially. In popular culture, both Paul McCartney (“Yesterday”) and Keith Richards (“Satisfaction”) “found” these songs upon waking and thought that they were likely remembering something heard elsewhere.
One cannot force such an emergence, and the gestation period can be quite long—an obvious negative in the business and construction world. Time is more of a factor than budget in most scenarios. “It takes what it takes” is not an answer most in business care to hear. And the issue of convenience is now a driving attitude in design while having many poor side effects. Much is lost in making something convenient, but the argument against it is unusual. The creative process (such as it is) involves defining, then refining, and then redefining. Think, act and repeat. The analogy of inception/seeding, then gestation/consideration, and then birth, is clear.
The recognition and reception of an idea is at least half of the process. It is perfectly possible to overlook or throw away an idea which is in fact the best, due to the inherent biases or presumptions of those hoping to find it—just as all communication involves the hearing and understanding of those being addressed in order to convey an idea. It is well-documented that we tend to see or hear only what we are looking for, and are blind to other (perhaps more valuable) input. Reception, or listening for the idea, requires a certain openness and sensitivity; a lack of force, or a need to “make” something happen. Force has a significant impact on ideas, and often manifests as problems over time.
Pianist Keith Jarrett has addressed this process for almost five decades in his solo concert appearances, in which he sits alone onstage with a nine-foot Steinway concert grand, and from silence creates unique musical constructions: one perfectly tuned mind/body, one perfectly tuned instrument, and an appreciative audience in a perfectly tuned room. The ECM recordings capture his sensitivities to place, and to the entire history of music, as his spontaneous compositions dance from idea to idea across genres in a never-to-be-repeated existence. A cough will affect the moment in unknown ways, and his grunts and groans of struggle are part of the work.
“We must be open to the spaces (silence) in order to fill them just right. We must see the spaces, inhabit them, live them. Then, the next note, the next move, becomes apparent because it is needed. Until it is apparent, nothing should be played. Until it is known, nothing should be anticipated. Until the whole appears, the parts should not be criticized…. Until you listen, you cannot make music. Music is a part of life. It is not a separate, controlled event where a musician presents something to a passive audience. It is in the blood. A musician should be able to reveal this.”
“I can talk about it in this way because I do not feel that I ‘created’ this music as much as I allowed it to ‘emerge’. It is this emergence that is inexplicable and incapable of being made solid…”
Keith Jarrett, liner notes to Spirits, 1986. 2
While architecture and music are each singular disciplines with their unique voice, this appearance of ideas was described by David Mourão-Ferreira in O Jornal in 1987 saying that, “Things know when they have to happen.” In the ideal, no force is utilized and the idea “falls into place.” Many have written of their feelings that they felt they had nothing to do with the appearance or invention of an idea, but rather that it came to them from another realm. In the sixteenth century (and still today in some circles) this was considered a religious condition close to the idea of an Annunciation—the crossing from the sacred realm into the real world at a threshold.
Architect Louis Kahn eloquently described this event as occurring at the “Threshold of Inspiration,” and he developed this philosophy as “Silence and Light,” or more directly, “Silence to Light.” 3 The emergence of an idea from an unconscious realm crossed this threshold into existence. The architect’s role was to shepherd this insight into the real world and see that it was valid; if it was not, one began again. Kahn spoke of a love of “Beginnings”, of “Realizations”, and relished the opportunity to start over.
Part of the arrival of an idea must be a certain contingency regarding immediate acceptance. This reticence to jump to conclusion, holding back on commitment to the first idea, is a difficult technique to learn, just as the appearance of an idea is almost impossible to describe to someone who has not yet experienced it—much less the immediate “glow” of a simple concept with elegance. Intuition and experience will aid in gauging the relevance of the new tool. Kahn said, “If you have three ideas you don’t have one,” which speaks to his sense of commitment and conviction; almost absent entirely in the world today.
One might find a way to proceed by positing a contingent working precept or thesis; a “rough” draft in order to test the idea, and its consequences and ramifications. Perhaps the hardest lesson to learn is in vacating a poor idea—it is extremely difficult at times to let go of something in which a person or team has vested so much in time and work. This is particularly difficult in the literal business of making a building. However, forcing an idea for reasons of time or money can be devastating in the long term.
There are many such frictions which have an effect on the matter of simplicity of idea and simplicity in architecture. In many scenarios, working from the broad to the particular is the direction of less resistance. However, there are no generally applicable rules. To the extent that an idea “moves” through time and refinement, it will accrue many such distractions as complications to be addressed. The higher quality of the idea, the more stable and resistant it will be to such influences and frictions. When successful, it might seem that one was not involved, as when Kahn spoke of the Kimbell Art Museum saying, “This building feels—and it is a good feeling—as though I had nothing to do with it.” 4
Tibetan Buddhists believe that when a holy person is cremated, his ashes contain ringsels or sarira —small white or light-colored balls which are almost literal “pearls of wisdom.” The ashes are then sifted through to find such relics, and they are collected in veneration of a life lived in joy, study, and conviction. Shaker woodworkers were said to believe that a chair they made must be perfect, as “an angel might come and sit in it.” Both ideas are founded of true conviction, not opinion, and both speak to the profundity of a simple idea discovered and vested in life.
1
Göran Schildt, “Alvar Aalto’s three teachers - three leaves from the book of his life,” in Aarno Ruusuvuori, ed., Alvar Aalto, 1898-1976, 3rd ed. (Helsinki: The Museum of Finnish Architecture, 1981), 16.
2
Keith Jarrett, Spirits, ECM 1333/1334, 1985.
3
Heinz Ronner, Sharad Jhaveri, and Alessandro Vasella, “Silence and Light: Louis I. Kahn at ETH,” in Louis I. Kahn Complete Work 1935-74 (Boulder: Westview Press, 1977), 447–449.
4
Louis I. Kahn, in Light Is the Theme: Louis I. Kahn and the Kimbell Art Museum, ed. Nell E. Johnson and Eric M. Lee (Fort Worth: Kimbell Art Museum, 2011), 73.
W. Mark Gunderson, AIA
As a sole practitioner for 35 years in Fort Worth, architect W. Mark Gunderson, AIA, searches for insight and meaning in both the poetic and technical aspects of our existence.
A past president of both AIA Fort Worth and the Dallas Architectural Foundation, he is currently on the Advisory Board of the Dallas Architecture Forum, where for 9 years he was Vice-President / Panels and Symposia. He has served on the Steering Committee for the restoration of Lawrence Halprin’s Heritage Park Plaza since its inception in 2009. Gunderson is a recipient of the John G. Flowers Award from the Texas Society of Architects, a Distinguished Alumnus of Texas Tech University College of Architecture and is a Contributing Editor to Texas Architect. He is a co-author to the 2019 “Buildings of Texas: East, North Central, Panhandle and South Plains, and West” and has written forewords for “Dallas Modern” and “Thirty Houses: Selected Residential Work of Architect Frank Welch.”
Read Mark Gunderson’s essays for Texas Architect at: https://magazine.texasarchitects.org/author/w-mark-gunderson/
View Mark's 2012 lecture, "Place and Time," delivered at Texas Tech University: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dCcnkdE48wc