The most recent numbered installment of "Book Briefs," the series of occasional posts featuring short first-hand descriptions of some of the numerous books that publishers send to me for consideration on this blog, was #48, back in December. I wasn't planning on continuing the series this year-of-doing-things-differently (or so I thought), but a couple of weeks ago I brought back the "Briefs" to play around with ChatGPT, which I had been hesitant to dive into but was told by numerous people that I MUST try it. At that time I also mentioned an in-progress "Brief" with eight books — here they are.Concrete in Switzerland: Histories from the Recent Past edited by Salvatore Aprea, Nicola Navone, Laurent Stalder and Sarah Nichols, published by EPFL Press in May 2022 (Amazon / Bookshop)Concrete in Switzerland is a companion publication to Beton, the exhibition held at S AM (Swiss Architecture Museum) in Basel from November 2021 to April 2022. In addition to the involvement of S AM, both the exhibition and the book boast three partners: the gta Archiv, ETH Zürich; the Archives de la construction moderne, EPF Lausanne (EPFL); and Archivio del Moderno dell’Academia di Architettura, Università della Svizzera italiana (USI). The editors from each of these three institutions — Salvatore Aprea (ETH), Nicola Navone (USI), and Laurent Stalder (EPFL) — also contributed one essay each among the book's thirteen essays: Aprea's contribution is about the famous Hennebique System; Navone's focuses, appropriately, on reinforced concrete architecture in Ticino; and Stalder traces about a century of technology's role in the Swiss pastoral, moving from Bruno Taut's Alpine Architecture to near the present day. Appropriately, Stalder's essay is first in the book, effectively serving as an overview or appetizer, if you will, for the essays that take deeper dives into individual subjects. Some standouts include: Silvia Berger Ziauddin's take on concrete bunkers, reminding me of my visit to Sasso San Gottardo; Lorenzo Stieger's essay on terraced hillside housing; Giulia Marino's presentation of the IGECO heavy prefabrication system; and Roberto Gargiani's piece on concrete in the early works of Herzog & de Meuron. This being a companion to an exhibition, the essays comprise about two-thirds of the book, the remainder filled by a lengthy visual essay, "Concrete Stories," by Sarah Nichols, curator of Beton. Her nearly 100-page contribution is broken down into shorter sections with such names as "Concrete is Rock," "Concrete is Energy," and "Concrete is Immaterial." The last shows how ideas around concrete are as important as the physical material itself.Urban Design in the 20th Century: A History by Tom Avermaete and Janina Gosseye, published by gta Verlag in January 2021 (Amazon)In its selection of Urban Design in the 20th Century as one of the ten recipients of a 2022 DAM Architectural Book Award, the jury described the book as "a handy and extensive" publication that is "an exciting, informative, and likewise uncluttered read, giving the complex mass of material a good structure and making it easy to consume." That is an apt description for the 100-plus urban design projects described through hundreds of illustrations across nine chapters spanning 440 pages. Organization is paramount, from the chronological-thematic structure of the chapters to the layout of said images (on black pages) and text (on white). Born from a course in urban design history taught by the authors at ETH Zurich, the book traces a history along the lines of what has been covered before (e.g., the books of Peter Hall and David Grahame Shane) but occasionally broadens the scope beyond a European center, and does it in a way that is appealing for students today: lots of images, large text, and bite-sized (sub)chapters. Today, one might expect a more cultural relevant take on the subject, but the authors point out in the book's coda that most developments in urban design the 20th century were "informed by a European point of view" and that telling a more global history would "undermine current attempts to decolonize history." The last point hints at some forthcoming scholarship that should flesh out histories like this one, presenting alternatives to familiar European perspectives.Modern Architecture in Japan by Manfredo Tafuri, edited by Mohsen Mostafavi, published by MACK in October 2022 (Amazon)Even though, as my collection of books has grown, my appetite for first editions has increased, I still have a soft spot for reprints. (It was one of the likes in my Valentine to architecture books, after all.) They allow hard-to-find, often prohibitively expensive books to be readily available once again and appreciated by new generations of audiences. Even if the ideas in an old book are dated, decisions regarding what merits reprinting point to some renewed interest in a subject or an author's take on a subject, among other things. A few months ago I happened upon a 1982
The most recent numbered installment of "Book Briefs," the series of occasional posts featuring short first-hand descriptions of some of the numerous books that publishers send to me for consideration on this blog, was #48, back in December. I wasn't planning on continuing the series this year-of-doing-things-differently (or so I thought), but a couple of weeks ago I brought back the "Briefs" to play around with ChatGPT, which I had been hesitant to dive into but was told by numerous people that I MUST try it. At that time I also mentioned an in-progress "Brief" with eight books — here they are.
Concrete in Switzerland is a companion publication to Beton, the exhibition held at S AM (Swiss Architecture Museum) in Basel from November 2021 to April 2022. In addition to the involvement of S AM, both the exhibition and the book boast three partners: the gta Archiv, ETH Zürich; the Archives de la construction moderne, EPF Lausanne (EPFL); and Archivio del Moderno dell’Academia di Architettura, Università della Svizzera italiana (USI). The editors from each of these three institutions — Salvatore Aprea (ETH), Nicola Navone (USI), and Laurent Stalder (EPFL) — also contributed one essay each among the book's thirteen essays: Aprea's contribution is about the famous Hennebique System; Navone's focuses, appropriately, on reinforced concrete architecture in Ticino; and Stalder traces about a century of technology's role in the Swiss pastoral, moving from Bruno Taut's Alpine Architecture to near the present day. Appropriately, Stalder's essay is first in the book, effectively serving as an overview or appetizer, if you will, for the essays that take deeper dives into individual subjects. Some standouts include: Silvia Berger Ziauddin's take on concrete bunkers, reminding me of my visit to Sasso San Gottardo; Lorenzo Stieger's essay on terraced hillside housing; Giulia Marino's presentation of the IGECO heavy prefabrication system; and Roberto Gargiani's piece on concrete in the early works of Herzog & de Meuron. This being a companion to an exhibition, the essays comprise about two-thirds of the book, the remainder filled by a lengthy visual essay, "Concrete Stories," by Sarah Nichols, curator of Beton. Her nearly 100-page contribution is broken down into shorter sections with such names as "Concrete is Rock," "Concrete is Energy," and "Concrete is Immaterial." The last shows how ideas around concrete are as important as the physical material itself.
In its selection of Urban Design in the 20th Century as one of the ten recipients of a 2022 DAM Architectural Book Award, the jury described the book as "a handy and extensive" publication that is "an exciting, informative, and likewise uncluttered read, giving the complex mass of material a good structure and making it easy to consume." That is an apt description for the 100-plus urban design projects described through hundreds of illustrations across nine chapters spanning 440 pages. Organization is paramount, from the chronological-thematic structure of the chapters to the layout of said images (on black pages) and text (on white). Born from a course in urban design history taught by the authors at ETH Zurich, the book traces a history along the lines of what has been covered before (e.g., the books of Peter Hall and DavidGrahame Shane) but occasionally broadens the scope beyond a European center, and does it in a way that is appealing for students today: lots of images, large text, and bite-sized (sub)chapters. Today, one might expect a more cultural relevant take on the subject, but the authors point out in the book's coda that most developments in urban design the 20th century were "informed by a European point of view" and that telling a more global history would "undermine current attempts to decolonize history." The last point hints at some forthcoming scholarship that should flesh out histories like this one, presenting alternatives to familiar European perspectives.
Even though, as my collection of books has grown, my appetite for first editions has increased, I still have a soft spot for reprints. (It was one of the likes in my Valentine to architecture books, after all.) They allow hard-to-find, often prohibitively expensive books to be readily available once again and appreciated by new generations of audiences. Even if the ideas in an old book are dated, decisions regarding what merits reprinting point to some renewed interest in a subject or an author's take on a subject, among other things. A few months ago I happened upon a 1982 reprint of Ralph Adams Cram's Impressions of Japanese Architecture and the Allied Arts, first published in 1905 then revised in 1930; I had never heard of the book, but the fact it was reprinted and was relatively cheap led me to buy it. It has a little bit of overlap with one of the fall 2022 books MACK sent me, a handsome reprint of Manfredo Tafuri's Modern Architecture in Japan from 1964. The differences between the two books are as great as their similarities: Both are outsiders' views of Japan (Cram from the US, Tafuri from Italy), but the ensuing changes in the half-century between books meant Tafuri focused on modern architecture over Cram's exploration of temples, shrines, and other creations from previous centuries. (Only in the brief conclusion does Cram jump to the present and Frank Lloyd Wright's Imperial Hotel and the influence of European architecture on Japan.) Although Cram based his book, as the name indicates, on travels to Japan, curiously, when Tafuri wrote his guide to the country's modern architecture at the age of just 29, he had never even been to Japan! But the biggest difference, at least in terms of the reprints themselves, is that Tafuri's book was originally released in Italian, so the book put out by MACK is notable as the first English translation of his armchair guidebook. The nearly 60-year lag between original and translation means its importance is minor relative to Architecture and Utopia (just six years between the 1973 Italian original and English translation in 1979) or even Theories and History of Architecture (twelve years: 1968 and 1980). Still, Mohsen Mostafavi's preface argues for the relevance of Tafuri's book today "despite its reliance on secondary sources and its occasional inaccuracies," while a handful of essays following Tafuri's text put it in a greater context. A most interesting take is Tafuri writing the book as much to influence contemporary architecture in Italy as to understand it in Japan. Modern Architecture in Japan was part of a series edited by Leonardo Benevolo, in which other architects and writers wrote about the Soviet Union, Great Britain, Brazil, and a few European countries. I can't help but wonder if those books will find their way into English, or if Tafuri's book, thanks to the longevity of his name, will be the only one meriting a reprint.
Just as MACK's translated reprint of Tafuri's book reminded me of an older book on Japan, the subject of Penelope Curtis's The Pliable Plane — the manipulation of the wall surface bridging art and architecture in the decades after WWII — made me think of another old book: Paul F. Damaz's Art in Latin American Architecture. I became aware of the 1963 book when writing 100 Years, 100 Buildings, using it as a reference on two of the buildings: Oscar Niemeyer's Saint Francis of Assisi Church at Pampulha (1947) and University City of Caracas by Carlos Raúl Villanueva (1953). Niemeyer actually wrote a preface for Damaz's book, and no wonder, considering the author called his church "the best instance of collaboration between an architect and artists"; the expressive azulejo artwork on the street facade is the most famous instance of many artistic contributions integrated with the church, outside and in. Are these or other examples of wall-heavy art in Damaz's survey also found in Curtis's book? Not that I could see. Her short yet very interesting book is limited to European and US examples, with an abundance of Henry Moore — no surprise, given her former role as director of the Henry Moore Institute. While some of the projects are very well known, Curtis examines them in atypical ways. Paul Rudolph's A&A Building at Yale (now Rudolph Hall), for instance, is bound to come to any architect's mind when considering wall surfaces, but Curtis focuses on the lesser-known sculptural plaster casts from classical architecture integrated into the hammered corduroy concrete walls. Part of the joy in the book, at least for me, was discovering previously unknown projects, a standout being the Mausoleum Fosse Ardeatine (1949) in Rome.
The latest by Marcel Smets, whom I know of as the author, with Kelly Shannon, of the excellent The Landscape of Contemporary Infrastructure, is a short book with short texts that aim to "open up the core ideas of urban design to the wider public." The Foundations of the title are 29 numbered chapters (F01–F29) that consist of apparently oppositional yet complementary pairs that touch on organizational strategies (Ribbon/Cluster, Ladder/Star), urban spaces (Market Square/Parade Ground, Hole/Void), circulation corridors (Street/Road, Path/Avenue), waterways (Brook/Detch, River, Canal), and other less formal aspects of urban design (Use/Morphology, Creator/Curator), among other things. The short texts (none appeared to be more than four pages) are accompanied by pairs of images that capture the essence of Smets's lessons. Given the intended audience, the text is far from challenging and is further leavened by the illustrations, though I wouldn't go so far to say it's a stimulating read. Still, the book is a good introduction to urban design for students — and that wider public curious about the field.
Back in 2016, José Aragüez's The Building was released. I never saw the book back then, but I recently picked it up and, despite its occasional academic abstruseness, really like the collection of 43 brief, three-page theoretical takes on what the title indicates: buildings. Born from symposia at the Architectural Association in 2014, it reads a bit like TED Talks for architectural educators and theoreticians. Clearly not a followup, even though it does include the introductory essay from the earlier book, Aragüez's second book, Spatial Infrastructure, takes a different, longform approach, featuring just eight essays across roughly 150 pages (that's nearly 20 pages per essay, on average). The topics in the essays spanning from 2010 to 2022 are very much aligned with The Building, with heady theoretical takes grounded in discussions of real-world examples, such as Toyo Ito's Taichung Metropolitan Opera House in Taiwan (the subject of "Sponge Territory") and FOA's Yokohama Ferry Terminal among other buildings in the essay that lends the book its title.
Think of cities in Brazil and most likely the three most-populous ones spring to mind: Rio de Janeiro, São Paulo, and Brasilia. Sixth on the list of Brazilian cities by population, though right up top in the life of architect Carlos M. Teixeira, is Belo Horizonte, a not-too-small city of 2.5 million in Minas Gerais. The name of Teixeira's studio, Vazio S/A, translates as "empty" but refers to the voids in Belo Horizonte that have preoccupied him for decades. In my review of his 2012 monograph, Entre, I wrote how "the stagings and sets [of his performance-based projects] attempt to activate the leftover voids of his home city," using the second Topographical Amnesia as an example.
For his latest, more thematically ambitious and chronologically sweeping book, Teixeira presents the 100-plus-year history of Belo Horizonte (it was founded in 1897) with a focus on everything that has not been built: "The city, fragmented and prosaic, accepted with no nostalgic sentiment and exalted as what is most important in the city." This atypical history is told through photographs — "anti-postcards" — and numbered texts (001–122) that are interspersed with the photos. (The English translation placed at the end of the book means some back-and-forth flipping is needed to see any relationships between image and text.) Architects outside Brazil will see something familiar when they reach number 82, circa 1947: Oscar Niemeyer's buildings at Pampulha, what Teixeira calls "the occupation of a suburban void." In 1994, Teixeira writes, when residents were give a referendum to select a symbol of the city, Niemeyer's Pampulha Church was in the running but, in the end, the Serra do Curral — a sprawling natural void at the southern boundary of the municipality — won with 270,000 votes. With that "victory," I can't think of a stronger argument for Teixeira's ongoing infatuation with the void in the city where he lives and works.
The Womxn in Design and Architecture (WDA) formed at Princeton University School of Architecture in 2014, and three years later the graduate student group held its first annual conference, commemorating the one-year anniversary of Zaha Hadid’s passing. But it would be the second conference, Lina Bo Bardi: Material Ecologies, that became the first in WDA's Publication Series, published as a beautiful linen flexicover with numerous gatefolds among the numerous contributions coming out of the March 2018 conference. The conference had a three-part thematic structure (Concrete Brut, Natura, Material Re-Use) stemming from the "Material Ecologies" subtitle, and while the contents of the book follow the schedule of the conference's keynotes and panels, with two notable additions (Beatriz Colomina and Mario Gandelsonas), the book does not belabor the three themes, instead letting the essays stand out on their own merits. An obvious highlight is "Betwixt and Between" by Zeuler R. M. de A. Lima, author of an excellent 2013 monograph on Bo Bardi. Photo contributions by Veronika Kellndorfer ("Sprawling Nature") and Joana França ("Lina, In Situ") are stunning. Mike Cooter's "Artifacts of Work" is an unanticipated standout, one that translates a piece of one of Bo Bardi's buildings into an installation in an architecture exhibition. Kudos to CLANADA (Lana Cavar and Natasha Chandani) for the lovely design of the highly tactile book.
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