Ex-architect Christine Outram assails her former peers, arguing that those in the field simply “don’t listen to people”:
Let’s face it, most commercial buildings, hospitals, and police stations are underwhelming. And even when they are pleasing to the eye, it doesn’t mean they are built to address human needs: If you don’t believe me, read this New York Times review of Santiago Calatrava’s buildings. No wonder architecture has become a niche vocation. You don’t connect with people any more.
The problem is that architects seem to pray at the feet of the latest hyped-up formal language. I dare you. Flip through an architectural magazine today. Find any people in the photographs? I didn’t think so. Find plenty of pictures that worship obscure angles and the place where two materials meet? You betcha.
Kaid Benfield concedes some points but says “the issues involved with today’s architecture are a lot more nuanced than Outram acknowledges”:
First, I know lots of architects who are doing good, humanist, contextually sensitive design. Outram gives a passing nod to Jan Gehl in this regard, but only minimally. He’s hardly the only one (here are some great examples). Second, highly original, “statement” buildings and places are not inherently anti-human. One of my favorites is the modernist high-speed rail station just outside Avignon in France. It’s as much sculpture as rail depot, but it also is an utter delight to visit or pass through. …
Third, I’m not sure it’s fair to compare retail to other kinds of architecture. Most of the cold, lifeless architecture I see is corporate or institutional. Retail establishments such as Starbucks are in the business of attracting customers and, if they have adequate resources and the location is right for business, I’d say they succeed at that more often than not. It may not be Great Architecture, but it works for people. Consider the amazing success of the enclosed suburban regional shopping mall, for example. The exterior architecture is generally hideous, as are the parking lots; but, on the inside, designers figured out exactly what people wanted.
Update from a reader:
Could not agree more with Outram. But it gets worse. These days I’m exposed regularly to grad students at one of the top architecture schools in the world, and the dehumanized understanding of architecture’s concerns is matched by what amounts to a fuzzier, more patron-pleasing version of the awful Le Corbusier school of architecture as a means of social engineering. Both the profs and, as a result, their students seem to believe that their primary job is to build “meaning” into their work in order to inspire a desirable response in its users (e.g. open-floorplan offices and glass-walled courthouses, to inspire dialogue, communication, equality before authority). There often seems to be no concern for the fact that to most people, the primary question asked of a building is not “what does it mean?” but “where’s the fucking bathroom?”
This said, I’ve visited that Calatrava train station in Lisbon, and it functions as beautifully as it looks.
(Photo: Santago Calatrava’s Estação do Oriente in Lisbon)
The Dish 
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