Every architectural design starts with a rough idea; a simple model or sketch that becomes a parti. These starting points are usually, but not exclusively, anchored to a site, its history, the building’s purpose, and many other factors. Since architecture is an ever-evolving field, it is inevitable to see influences from past works as well. In this way, the ordering, or the organization of components at a schematic level, is a process of experimentation where everything is valid. Frank Gehry and Rafael Moneo, two architecturally opposite minds, explore ordering in their own ways: through morphology and composition, respectively. The analysis of both architects’ sources of inspiration, as well as their ordering strategies, facilitate a better understanding of the creative process in the architectural field.
Architecturally speaking, nothing is completely new. While centuries of human existence have proven what works spatially and functionally, the designer has the power to decide what to derive from (what works), and what to deviate from (what can improve or is not needed) when designing. Questions of authorship, ideas, and originality are brought to the argument when a design deploys or redefines a past strategy in a noticeable manner. For instance, Gehry’s Guggenheim, while possessing a wildly randomized appearance, actually uses some elements of its precursor, the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. Gehry abstracts the experience of the vortex/spiral, this time including multiple natural lighting sources, a detail so subtle it can only be perceived from the building’s interior. In Moneo’s Kursaal, the designer draws from the site’s own geological history, seeking to create two “rocks” facing the sea. In both cases, the sources of inspiration demonstrate a deep regard for the past along with a conscious intention to reshape and/or redefine it.
Composition also plays a vital role in the ordering of a structure, and cannot, or rather, should not, be seen as independent from a conceptual intention or idea. In the case of both buildings, the composition adds yet another layer of information, specifically in terms of ordering. Much like Matisse’s collages, Gehry’s museum has an organic quality; a cut-and-paste collection of forms and materials that suggest, not a search for perfection, but an exercise of exploration. Moneo, on the other hand, very consciously duplicates a simple volume, evoking the compositional simplicity of Jasper Johns. In gradually analyzing the ordering of the buildings, the preconceptions of both Moneo and Gehry are slowly being dismantled: Moneo is no longer the sole academic with no artistic impulses, while Gehry is no longer the irrational artist. Instead, the line between the academic and the poetic is constantly thinning, almost threating to disappear entirely.
Gehry and Moneo use both influences and compositional factors, that in turn, establish a set of constraints from which to derive or deviate. From a general perspective, and considering both sides of the story, Moneo’s Kursaal can be seen as an ideal union of cohesive parts, while Gehry’s Guggenheim could be perceived as an impure union of independent parts. Analyzing the topic of ordering specifically, and seeing how both architects draw from previous creators, what happens if these perceptions are switched? It can be argued that Gehry’s Guggenheim, through its mixture of organic parts, comprises a single, living organism, or an ideal union of cohesive parts. Moneo’s Kursaal, through the duplication and positioning of two separate volumes, can then be considered as an impure union of independent parts. The ambiguity that results when comparing each designer’s projects and ordering strategies, without ignoring the functional similarity of both projects, point to the fact that maybe, just maybe, Moneo and Gehry are not as different as we made them out to be.
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