Classical Architecture: Human scale or coldly ideological?
In his book The Classical Language of Architecture, John
Summerson sets out two meanings of the term 'classical' in
architecture. The first states that “A classical building is one whose
decorative elements derive directly or indirectly from the
architectural vocabulary of the ancient world – the 'classical' world
as it is often called.”1 The second is slightly less obvious and is more
of a description of the essence of classicism, “The aim of classical
architecture has always been to achieve a demonstrable harmony
of parts.”2 These definitions are not as separate as they initially
appear. The 'harmony' of the latter is intrinsic to the 'elements' of
the former, that is to say that the elements are governed by strict
rules of mathematics and proportion, which create the harmony of
the whole. It is often the case that these elements determine the
scale and proportion of the whole. It is essential that the ratios of
the parts to each other and to the whole are related.
The harmonious relationship of the whole to its parts is an ancient
ideal, derived from man's innate ability to recognise geometric
proportions in the physical world. Music is a perfect example of
this, as the ancient Greeks described it, “it makes the soul happy to
work with clear mathematical ratios and therefore the tones
produced by strings of simple proportions affect our ears with
delight.”3 Architecture has long been compared with music, as
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe famously said, “Architecture is 'frozen
music'… Really there is something in this; the tone of mind
produced by architecture approaches the effect of music.”4 There is
however a profound difference between how we experience ratios
in music and how we experience them in architecture. In music the
ratios must be exact to produce a pleasing sound while in
architecture as long as they appear correct, small discrepancies in
measurements would probably go unnoticed. Another interesting
difference is that while certain sounds in music are universally
accepted as pleasing, as the question suggests, visual proportions
are not always so clear cut.
With this in mind one might then ask, why use this complex system
of mathematical relationships if a rough approximation is enough to
satisfy the human eye? Especially if exact geometric relationships
are an impossibility in Art and Architecture as the line of a drawing
or the wall of a building must have some thickness, whereas in
geometry lines and points are dimensionless. The answer is that
while we may not be able to judge exact dimensions when they
stand alone, we are very aware of how distances relate to each
other and how the parts relate to the whole. As the English
philosopher and geometer John Mitchell wrote, “The mathematical
rules of the universe are visible to men in the form of beauty.”5
There is one ratio which we are particularly sensitive to, known
variously as the aurea sectio (golden section), the golden mean, the
divine section and even the godlike proportion. The golden section
is the only way to divide a line so that the large part is to the whole
what the small part is to the large part. It is the 'ideal balance'. This
relationship is found throughout nature, hence its associations with
beauty and the divine. Nowhere is this ratio more abundant than in
the human body. In an ideally proportioned human the navel
divides the body exactly in the golden ratio and there are many
more sub-divisions which can be made, each perfectly fitting the
same ratio.
While, as the question suggests, human bodies vary enormously in
size and shape it has been found that if a sample of people is taken
and their measurements averaged, their proportions always come
very close to those of the golden section. It is an interesting fact
that, while as a collective there is a general trend towards the
'perfect' proportions in humans, the majority of people don't
exactly conform to the canon. From a 'classical' perspective this
suggests that although we are all 'made in the image' of the godlike
proportion, we are mortals and therefore must deviate from it,
however slightly, or else we would be 'gods'. The Ancient Greeks
made this distinction in their statues, depicting the gods in the
exact proportions of the golden section while deliberately making
human figures less perfect. It is these infinitely subtle variations
which allow humans to be fully and authentically individual, while
at the same time conforming to a perfect mean, allowing ‘canons of
subjective beauty or objective perfection’ to exist.
So 'classical' Art and Architecture is based on a 'divine' template,
echoed in nature and aspired to by man. Does the fact that humans
as individuals don't necessarily conform exactly to this template
make the 'classical' inhuman and therefore cold? Or does the
consistent variation which creates the perfect mean imply that the
'classical' is wholly human, based on the form, proportions and
scale of the race as a whole?
It is an obvious but important fact that all Art and Architecture is
made by humans, for humans. Therefore it must have some
relationship to us, be it through form, proportion or scale. It is
designed for our eyes. This must be the case for us to comprehend
or even be aware of it. Without such a relationship to it we would
be as conscious of Art and Architecture, or indeed any man-made
thing, as an ant is of a sky scraper. That is to say, that at some base
level, 'classical' (and in fact all other) Art and Architecture is
'human' to some degree.
When we talk of the inhuman scale of 'classical' architecture we are
generally referring to the gigantic scale which is prevalent in many
of the public buildings of the style, from the obvious examples of
antiquity such as the Parthenon, to the more modern and less
obviously classical example of Le Corbusier's Unité d'Habitation.
The scale and proportions of the former are derived entirely from
its Doric orders just as those of the latter come from Corbusier's 'Le
Modulor' or modular man.
Before discussing the implications of building on such a big scale it
is important to understand the factors which determine that scale.
As previously mentioned, in the Parthenon (as in all buildings which
are classical in the sense of Summerson's first definition), the scale
and proportions are determined by its orders. The five classical
orders are a huge subject in themselves. The Romans believed that
the orders were the essence of Architecture. So here I will assume a
basic knowledge of them. The most important characteristic of
them in this instance is that the diameter of the base of the column
is used as the basic, unalterable unit on which the whole building is
based. The conceived inflexibility of the orders has inevitably led to
the belief that they are coldly ideological and inhuman purely
because that is the nature of something inflexible. In reality, despite
the fact that various theorists and practitioners such as Vitruvius,
Alberti, Serlio and Perrault have tried to impose them, there are no
exact measurements which completely define the orders. It is
better to think of the orders, not as set in stone but as
“grammatical expressions”6. They impose certain rules but the rules
are subject to personal taste. A good architect is able to understand
and defy the rules. As Le Corbusier said “Regulating lines (...) are
(...) a spring board and not a straight jacket (...) they satisfy the
artist's sense (...) and confer on the work a quality of rhythm.”7
At first glance Le Corbusier's approach to scale and proportion
seems much more humanistic. His modular man is comprised of
two sets of golden ratios, one derived from the height of the navel
of the average man and the other from the height of the average
man with his arm raised. The two scales are not related to each
other in the golden ratio but between the two he had
measurements to fit almost anything. All the proportions in the
Unité d'Habitation are taken from these two scales, both of which
come directly from human proportions, suggesting a much more
human approach than the classical orders. Corbusier used real
people to find measurements for various aspects of the building;
however, he would then 'correct' these findings in order for them
to match up with his existing scales. So in fact, having found the
exact human requirement he would then make it less 'human' by
altering it to fit in with his 'ideal' proportions so as to satisfy his
version of 'classical beauty' or harmony.
From these two very different starting points the Unité d'Habitation
and the Parthenon have some interesting similarities. Both exhibit
golden section proportions, not surprising in the Unité d'Habitation
as it is comprised of golden section measurements, but in the
Parthenon, based on column diameters it is a little more
unexpected. Both have gigantic columns which relate harmoniously
to the building as a whole. The reason is obvious in the Parthenon
where the column diameter is the base unit but in the Unité
d'Habitation where everything else is on such a human scale the
gigantic columns, four men high, create an unanticipated but fitting
dynamic. Although the contrast between the interior and the
exterior is stark it is clear to see that had the pillars been on a more
human scale it would have caused an unsettling feeling in the
observer, as though the building was weighing down on them,
forcing them into the ground.
The scale of the Parthenon is intended to represent the gods,
human proportions on a gigantic scale. The gigantic columns of the
Unité d'Habitation provide aesthetic comfort, emphasising the
strength and stability of the building. The effect of this gigantic,
'inhuman' scale is not to isolate us as the question suggests, but to
make us more able to understand the buildings than if they had
been at our scale. So while neither building mimics human scale
they both communicate their intentions more clearly as a result, in
a way that the human eye completely comprehends.
This raises the question of whether the appearance of harmonious
proportion is more important than actual physical measurements?
The answer to this must be yes as we are discussing how we
perceive the Visual Arts. It is for this reason that the columns of the
Parthenon (and indeed most classical buildings) have a bulge in the
middle to account for how ours eyes distort reality. Without this
visual correction, the columns would appear too thin which is a
distressing illusion. This seems to be an argument against the idea
that classical architecture is coldly ideological. On the contrary it
bends and flexes to accommodate our imperfections.
A good example of how perspective, for instance, distorts our
perceptions is the statues from the pediment of the Parthenon.
When one comes face to face with the Elgin Marbles as they are
exhibited in The British Museum they seem daunting and even
inhuman due to their scale and the fact that they are presented just
above our eye level. Seeing them as they were originally intended
to been seen, on the pediment of the Parthenon, would be a very
different experience. They are designed to be seen from below and
from a much greater distance which would make them less
dominating and more human.
The Renaissance sculptor, Michelangelo altered scale and
proportion in his works for the same reasons. He was heavily
influenced by the Greek sculptures he saw in the Medici collection
but “he was not content with learning the laws of anatomy second
hand, as it were, from antique sculpture. He made his own research
into human anatomy, dissected bodies, and drew from models, till
the human figure did not seem to hold any secrets for him.”8 With
the combined knowledge of the antique ideal and his individual
investigation Michelangelo created some of the most beautiful
works of art ever made. Although they are not entirely human in
scale and proportion, they are certainly not coldly ideological. Their
simple outlines and human characteristics give them a universal
appeal. We find beauty in Michelangelo's David despite, or perhaps
even as a result of the deviations from reality, the fact that his head
and hands are enormous in relation to his body for example.
Therefore there must be some essence of humanity in his use of
proportion, something we all react to and find beautiful.
Many 'classical' artists have adapted human form and proportion in
the pursuit of beauty. Botticelli's The Birth of Venus is a
representation of 'the divine message of beauty' and so above all
the artist strove for beauty in his rendition of the classical myth.
This aim is clearly achieved, so much so, that without careful
investigation we don't notice the strangely proportioned parts
which constitute the figure of Venus. These parts create a
harmonious whole, again with a simple, graceful outline, which
appeals greatly to the senses. Ingres's Bather, although more of a
neo-classical piece, follows the same principles. The figure's back is
elongated to enhance the figure as a form and again the allimportant outline is clear and simple.
This would seem to imply that classical proportionality, although
based on the human form, is always made less human in an
attempt to make it closer to the ideal of beauty. This is the reason
that some people find classicism coldly ideological in the sense that
real human proportions do not satisfy the canons of beauty. They
must be altered to conform to the ideal. The reasons for the
alterations are in fact the opposite. To the classical artist humans
are as close to divine beauty as it is possible to come on earth and
Art is an attempt to replicate that beauty, be it through stone or
paint or bricks. The problem is that Art is just that, the sum of its
materials, and without the alterations which give it another
dimension that is all it would remain. Classical proportionality takes
Art and Architecture from a pale imitation of man to the realms of
the beautiful and the sublime.
1John Summerson, The Classical Language of Architecture,
(London: 1980) p.8
2Idem
3Steen Eiler Rasmussen, Experiencing Architecture, (Cambridge,
Massachusetts: 1959) p.104
4 Architectural quotations www.ergoarchitecture.com/quotations
5Michael S. Schneider , A Beginner's Guide to Constructing the
Universe, (New York: 1995) p.96
6Summerson, The Classical Language of Architecture, p.13
7Schneider, A Beginner's Guide to Constructing the Universe, p.133
8E. H. Gombrich , The Story of Art, (Oxford: 1950) p.230