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Lately I’ve been thinking about the changing role of architectural drawing and what it might mean for what we think of as architectural practice.
In ancient Egypt, far removed from the democratic access technology we have today, pharaohs kept books of architectural plans and details as closely guarded sacred secrets. Architects are there to advise and help, but designing a building is seen as a semi-sacred matter. Only the gods, in this case the Pharaohs (clients!), could be considered to have ownership of the design.
There is a painting in the tomb of Mery-Re, the Aten high priest, showing a fusion of plan and section of the Amerna Palace. It’s the essence of the palace, if you will, rather than a description of what it is or how it was built.However, there is little extant evidence to make any conclusive assumptions about how the drawings were used.
However, I will skip over the architectural competitions of ancient Greece, as well as the military engineering and public infrastructure of ancient Rome. I could stop at the master stonemasons of medieval Europe, but I probably don’t want to move on because they are so fascinating, so I’ll move on to the Italian Renaissance.
Many people have heard the story of Brunelleschi, who pretended to be ill and bedridden in 1423, determined to prove that he could single-handedly lead the construction of Florence Cathedral. What caused all this? Brunelleschi was part of the first wave of modern architects—designers who were not masters of their craft. The architectural drawings from this period have a higher survival value and frequency. Since the designer and foreman are no longer the same person, architectural drawings and documentation need to be more reliable—they must serve as stand-alone documents rather than visual aids to verbal instructions. Brunelleschi feared that, once written down, the quality of his work would render his continued existence obsolete – so the instructions for the construction of the dome of Florence Cathedral were never recorded.
Sure enough, as he lay in bed, construction soon came to a halt and the master builder and engineering staff approached him for help – fittingly proving his intention that he and he alone could lead the project, with or without drawings. .
In Britain, during the transition period from master craftsmen to amateurs to professional architects, drawings and contracts became increasingly detailed as the architect’s role became further removed from the construction process. For example, the 1599 contract for the Fortune Theater in London specified the production in considerable detail. However, it is in reference to an existing building – the Globe Theatre – and we must assume that all parties were familiar with it. This is very much like a medieval contract.
However, this was indeed the dawn of modern architectural drawing in Britain, with architects becoming increasingly distanced from the action of construction and drawings necessarily becoming independent deliverables. They are end products in their own right, not just tools in the process.
In the 19th century, we began to see the serious emergence of color perspective painting—the precursor, if you will, to today’s CGI. Client agencies at the time were increasingly middle-class councils. Previous aristocratic customers might have had some architectural education, but these new customers had little. More “realistic” drawings are needed to effectively communicate architectural intent.
Not to mention, under leaden British skies and surrounded by muddy building sites, real stone buildings inevitably disappoint, often leading to disillusionment on the part of clients who expect sketches of blue skies, swallows and mature wisteria. In response to this widespread problem, the Royal Institute of British Architects (RIBA) has even established strict rules on the use of perspective in entries to alleviate the problem to some extent. These colorful drawings are starting to become an art form in their own right and form an extremely important part of any drawing package.
Although drafting technology has changed dramatically over the past two hundred years or so, the role that architectural drafting plays in the construction process and the types of drawings produced have remained essentially the same.
However, look at any architectural drawing competition, such as the RIBA’s brilliant ‘Eye Line’, and these colorful perspectives, or their descendants, take center stage. These are not drawings celebrating the construction process, these drawings simply celebrate the concept, the “instagram moment” of architecture.
They are so beautiful; and charming. There is no denying the skill of the artists who created them. However, I wish I saw the same honor given to architects or students who are able to convey half of the architectural creative process as effectively as the artists who capture the architectural imagination so beautifully. Then I might feel that what we really believe in architecture is creating buildings.
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