Blogs
Kunstler
Chapters 1-6 of Kunstler's Geography of Nowhere give a historic recount of America's physical (architectural, geographic) growth from the time of the first European settlers through the Reagan era. In addition to providing the facts about how the country developed, Kunstler also gives the reader his take on how certain types of physical development played a role in the creation of the nation's attitudes and morals.
One of the most fascinating relationships that I have encountered in my studies is the relationship between people and their physical surroundings. I am fascinated by the process by which things we experience with our senses affect our internal state. In this vein but on a larger scale, Kunstler provides a history of how the material properties of of an entire new land influenced the philosophy and morality of an entire society, and vice versa. His recount, albeit heavily opinionated, shows the reader how a certain way of dividing land reflects on human intention, how a way of treating nature reflects on the values of a society, how religious beliefs can mold expectations of place, and a how style of architecture can be closely linked to the attitude of its creators.
While I appreciate Kunstler's tact in condensing hundreds of years of history into a hundred or so pages (doing so by only focusing on what he deems to be "key" geographic and architectural developments), I am somewhat unsettled by the sense of authority in his writing. I understand that he is trying to support an argument, which, may I add, I largely agree with, but I don't understand why he doesn't offer any points of view other than his own. His super-critical writing automatically dismisses anything he may disagree with -- all Americans are hung up on not letting anyone tell them what to do with their land, individualism destroys public life, "Modernism did its immense damage in these ways...", no questions asked. He leaves a lot of history out, and he doesn't entertain any counter-arguments (at least not in these chapters). This attitude, coupled with Kunstler's haughty air of authority ("[other people] lack the vocabulary to understand what is wrong with the places they ought to know best. That is why I wrote this book") turns what could have been an interesting and informative read into an exercise in smugness. I wish he would try to shed light on the intricacy of the issues, and instead of briefly stating what he thinks is right and wrong as fact.
A little add on
Reading your blog entry made me think of a few things: an internship and the epic of Gilgamesh. The internship is because at the architectural studio where I was working the head architect’s main agenda was to provide people a way to reconnect with their physical surroundings. His main gripe was that we have become so immersed in a cult of the concept that our innate human senses, especially, of touch, are impoverished. Though I did agree with him, I thought that his ideas of where humanity has been and is going weren’t complex enough. Since man’s ascension into civilization, there has always been a communal struggle against the forces of nature. At the very beginning, animals and harsh weather, the tangible aspects of nature, were the antagonists. However, as man progressed, these became less of a concern. What emerged from behind the veil of physical enemies was the concept of randomness. People attempted to create places that embodied the rational aspect of the human mind, and suppressed its more savage counterpart. This has been a pretty steady trajectory that still presses forward. But, to stop here would be quite simplistic. One must acknowledge the role of vacillation in the human mind and historical periods. After waves of intense rationality and order came rushes of nostalgia for the meandering, unpredictable aspects of nature. This is manifested in architecture, urban design, everything to poster styling (Art Nouveau in Europe as an example).
And how does an epic poem fit into all of this? Gilgamesh, a king that drew his power from an ordered civilization, was balanced when he met Enkidu, a man whose primal instincts were developed in the forests until he was taken from it. The poem is rife with evidence that these two are both codependent and mutually destructive. This struggle for harmony is a metaphor for how we live as humans- straddling our rationality and our animal instincts. It seems that in many ways different eras and generations are born to start different cycles in this chain. One coming at the height of intense rationality, where all its flaws are exposed and its oppressiveness heightened, will reject it and develop something more natural. While, one coming at the height of this carnal age may yearn for order and simplicity.
It seems that we were born in a stage of intense order. Coming right after Modernism carved the canon of architecture to include only simple forms, and at a time when industrialization programmed people’s lives into mechanized humdrum, we have seen the toll this can take and so will undoubtedly go against it.
Criticizing Kunstler
I was so thoroughly provoked by Kunstler’s tone that it has taken a few days for his argument to settle in. Much of my frustration came from the fact that I share much of his personal feelings toward that which he criticizes; the manner in which his criticism is presented, however, serves only to parody his actual point. His narrative alienates not only those who are the subject of his incessant prodding, but also those who, like myself, sympathize with his larger point but wish that he could communicate more effectively, or at least more productively.
The above post is successful in that it does what I could not do during my post: separate out intellectual problems with Kunstler’s argument from personal frustrations. To use a rather unfortunate expression, I “threw the baby out with the bath water,” falling into the same hole that Kunstler has worked hard to dig to great depths. Anyway, that’s a long way of saying that I was happy to read the post.