Avant-Garde and Continuity

Giorgio Grassi
Translation by Stephen SartareUi
This discussion will be largely focussed about two basic
issues: 1) that avant-garde architecture itself is of minor
importance. It is always marginal to any decisive
change--despite the fact that its importance bas been
exaggerated to an absurd degree by militant criticism,
and even though it has been taken seriously by many,
both in the past and today; 2) that the avant-garde position
in architecture contradicts the very definition of architec-
ture; that is to say, it is contrary to architecture's most
specific characteristics; factors which cannot be over-
looked in the projection of architecture, not even when
the contradiction between architecture and the city, or
between humanity and the reality of its product, is as
much in evidence as it is today.
And since we are talking about the avant-garde in archi-
tecture, we should also mention in passing something that
is often forgotten. We should remember that we are talk-
ing aboutwork8, about concrete matters-not about ideas,
fantastic images, or polemical issues. The SchrOder house
and the Villa Sa voye are there to be seen; they are not
just manifestos or ideal models-they are "houses," de-
signed to be used; they are connected to everyday life.
And even that which is not yet built, but is sill! only in
the planning stage, must be imagined in tenns of its com-
pletion, for this is really architectwe's only raison d'etre.
But the first thing we must do is rediscover an acceptable
frame of reference.
To my mind this law establishes above all that in great
works (in sculpture but especially in architecture) the
"monument'' comes first. In my opinion, the most general
and comprehensive conception of a work is always aimed
first of all at the t-eaflinnation of the specific nature of the
particular type of represe.ntation, be it sculpture or ar-
chitecture. or primary impottance is t he "monument,''
that is, the law of architecture.
All the rest is really secondary; that is, it has no bearing
as such on t he conception. It becomes irrelevant with
respect to the "work." For this reason all the rest may
easily become the object of the most obstinate and fanat-
ical experimentation, or of the most sophisticated critical
revelation. It may even have a price, as it does. It may
be exhibited in galleries, discussed in seminars, offered
for the wonderment of a public-a public which has how-
ever been shrewdly turned away from the real object of
its perception and judgment.
Taking the whole gamut of forms proposed by the van-
guards of the Modern Movement, I believe that if we try
to imagine the exclusion of this "rest'' (that is, of all that
which crumbles and disintegrates in the fall prescribed by
Michelangelo), there remains indeed little, if anything at
all , of all the various proposals made with regard to formal
transformation and innovation.
Of course there remains the excitement, the desire for
In referring to the "architects of the revolution," I point change, the intensity of experimentation, and so on, the
to the various experiments of the Modern Movement's concern for lifestyle, the conllict of polemics, factions, or
canonical vanguard, as well as the greater part of contem- ''tendencies"; but all of this exists only in the pages of
porary experimentalism, which share in common the sin- books.
gular aim of searching for "new form."
What I'm trying to say is that, if perchance one wants to
There is a requirement, as shocking as it is terrifying, build a house, one should certainly not look for t he ex-
that Michelangelo prescribed for sculpture, which goes emplar among those strange objects which awaken our
more or less like this: "A beautiful stattw nust be able to sense of wonder! On the contrary one should be very wary
roll down frcnn the top of a monntain, tuilh01u losing of them.
of importance." This is a very powerful image,
worthy of Michelangelo, charged with theoretical impli- If we consider even for a moment the real changes-the
cations, intended to create uproar-and a convincing edict growth and transformation of cities, of their purposes,
391
as well, because it tends to coincide with the law of nature. and of their fonns, the modification of atenal
1 Student housing at Chi eti. Gi 11rgio
Gra.ssi and Antonio Monesti.roli,
1980. Perspective view of arcade and
site plan.
392 etc.-we readily realize that all of this always comes about fore the recognizability) of the forms themselves could be
despite the contributions of the so-called avant-gardes, exhausted.
and not because of them.
Here, by way of example, 1 should like to oppose the
transformations within the Neoclassical city to the designs
of the "architects of the revolution," who are all too often
invoked in support of the experimentalism of modem ar-
chitectures. I should like to go on to oppose the Hamburg
of Fritz Schumacher, or the Frankfurt or Ernst May, or
even the Viennese housing blocks carried out under the
socialist administration of the twenties, to the entire
avant-garde of the Modern Movement, to all of European
expressionism, to all the ''isms" and their derivations.
In other words, the real transformations brought about
by architecture have always begun with the specillc pract-
ical and material conditions of the city and the st.ructure
of its el.ements-and always as a denial of any "leaps of
wgic" that may be advanced. And nowhere is it said that
architecture, for all this, has stayed on the right path! On
the contrary.
I ask myself what relation is there, for example, between
the archi tecture par/ante of a Ledoux and the transfor-
mations of the city that succeeded it? I ask myself what
relation is there between these "new forms" and the Ne<r
classical city-which, apart from ita presumption of polit-
ical restoration, erected, in effect, a "new city"; a rev<r
lutionary city made up of collective elements, a city
capable of transforming its building fabric all at once? We
need to bear in mind the instance of the Restoration and
the new uses then made of Church property. I I>Sk myself
what relation there is between these "new forms" and the
European Neoclassical city's notion of "Civic Architec-
ture-."
The avant-garde of architecture seems to be stuck in a
permanent condition of trying to solve faue problem8 (or
in any case of trying to solve problems that have nothing
to do with transformation); and of starting from these
"problems" as motives and justillcations for their "new
forms," as though in this process the meaning (and there-
Ledoux's anxiety over clear and untainted symbols, Soul-
lee's research oriented toward the establishment of new,
open scenic spaces in the city-what role do such contri-
butions play in the history of architectural forms, other
than that of an inconsequential "sidestepping"? Moreover,
what meaning can Boullee's overemphatic "research" have
when compared to the Neoclassical city's public buildings
and their "meaning"?
That a public building should have the "exact'' appear-
ance of a public building is an idiocy that comes to be
accepted as correct when the city no longer seems capable
of giving expression to collective meanings-that is, when
the process of privatization has begun. This was never
before a problem in itself, but rather primarily a practical
problem of truthfulness and of necessity (I am thinking of
the great assembly halls that have always been the same
throughout history).
The finest buildings in the constructed city, those which
overcome this emphasis on theme, call attention to their
own "truth," and therefore their recognizability, with the
result that they are always far ahead of any glamorous
designs. I am thinking of Soane, for example, or Schinkel,
for whom architecture is primarily a matter of technique.
The process common to all artistic avant-gardes is that of
borrowing slogans, or inventing their own, and then as it
were rebuilding their world upon these, according to their
own representation of it. But although this may he com-
patible with the representation characteristic of the figu-
rative arts (p.recisely because of the characteristic dis-
tance that always exists between the representation and
the object represented), it certainly has no meaning in
architecture. This is especially true in that as far as the
vanguards of the Modem Movement are concerned, they
invariably follow in the wake of the figurative arts.
What has happened to the permanent preeminence that
1\fichelangelo granted to
Didn't this preeminence derive from t he fact of its being the unequivocally "formalistic" nature of t he dominant 393
"construction," t hat is, "composition" par excellence, in superstructure.
that it was subject to t he fixed laws of nature?
Cubism, Suprematism, Neoplasticism, etc., are all forms
of investigation born and developed in the realm of the
figurative arts, and only as a second t hought carried over
into architecture as well. It is actually pathetic ttl see the
architects of t hat "heroic" period, and the best among
them, trying with difficulty to accommodate themselves
to these "isms"; expetimenting in a perplexed manner
because of their fascination with the new doctrines, mea-
suring themselves against t hem. only later to realize their
ineffectuality. This is the case of Oud when faced with
"De Stijl." It is the same for llfies. Few are inunune to it:
Loos, Tessenow, Hilberseimer. I emphasize this point be-
cause it seems to me that today, amid all the confusion,
a strong avant-gerde wind is again blowing our way!
The "isms" of the Modem Movement have certainly pro-
duced a bulk of material impt-essive for its variety and
novelty. We must recognize that for t he most part con-
temporary architecture still bases its formal choices on
this material. Hardly a reassuring sign! But how else does
one explain for example the recent fortunes of a Terragni,
studied today in the United States as though he were
The illusion, t he myth of the "new" persists.
And it renews itself in the most negligible, the most idi-
otic, historicist p(Ultickes.
Here I do not intend to go into the histotical and ideolog-
ical motives behind t he "formalistic" choices of the modem
vanguards. But in the face of the new definitive rupture
between architecture and the contemporary city, can any-
one still think that the option of denunciation or protest
is a valid one in itself?
Moreover, the situation today is this: the dominant cul-
tural superstructure is incapable of expressing collective
meanings. It is therefore incapable of creating architec-
ture, since architectwe is always the expression of such
meanings. In this sense, architecture in itself is in a state
of perpetual denunciation, as it were, as a consequence of
This nature is made manifest whenever the superstruc-
t ure shows itself to be open ttl, that is, ready to appro-
priate and include within its own expressive horizons,
those formal experiments in the realm of architecture
whose values at-e posited only in formal terms. In this
light, is not the search for a "new form" the most para-
doxical choice of all, even if it .be the most obstinately
pursued?
A superstructure which tends to the reactionary always
approves of everything that conforms to its own chru-ac-
teristic stylistic preferences, that is, to everything that
serves to dissimulate contradictions rather than expose
t hem: such as formal experimentation as an end in itself,
innocuous heresies, autobiographism, etc. Such a super-
structure seems to have a particular predilection for all
that is expressed ambiguously, or in an incomplete or
provisional need only think of the success of the
so-ealled "papet architecture." For this reason, it is in my
opinion all the more absurd to give credence to or to get
involved with that area of architectural research which
more or less openly makes ambiguity its program, or
focuses on experimentation as a search for unusual and
peculiar connections, nuances, abnormalities, and so forth.
Therefore, any choice made in full consciousness of its
opposition to the state of the contemporary city today
must first of all be evaluated in light of this specific prob-
lem. It must take stock of architecture in itself, as a t-eal
and positive altemative: that is, architecture as an instru-
ment with which to probe contradictio.n.
I believe that for architecture today to enter, in a teal
sense, into conflict with the cultural superstructure ac-
cording to which it is judged, it must be unambiguous, to
the point of didacticism, and not vague or indistinct. I
believe that research, especially at the present moment,
must be concentrated on proposing forms that can be
interpreted in only one sense. And this "sense" must be
consistent with the object of representat' Qn. h d
1 opyng te matern
394
2 Fmmhouse in lhmbardy.
9 Alles Museum, Berlin. K. F.
Scltinirel, 1823-JO. Pespective view
of atrimn inteior.
State Scltool at K/.ostsc/1, near
Dresden. Heitmch Tessenow, 1925.
View of central
5 Student housing at Chieti. Giorgio
Grassi and A ntonw M onestiroli,
1980. Aerial view of truxkl.
always been to prove its own necessity, as is evident in
works which are firmly planted in the ground: that is, it
places most importan.ce on the total, characteristic stat-
icnus of architecture. Technical solutions, even the most
future-oriented, mtlllt always conform to this condition,
which is one of architectwe's most basic principles.
To speak of evocation in the particular world of architec-
tural 1-epresentation is to speak of f<mn-8. The notion of
fitness must therefore always include that which intercon-
nects the fonns themselves in history: that is, the gen-
eralizing tension which characterizes architecture's his-
torical experience (the good sense common to all solutions
of a given practical problem: the house, the road, the
public place, etc.). This is the realm of the typical f<mns
of architecture: of those forms which, more than others,
manifest themselves as definitive solutions.
Certainly, calling attention to the specific conditions of
architecture does not fuUy explain the notion of fitness-
but it indicates in any case a definite choice of method
with regard to the project. The remainder belongs to the
realm of the 111e<l>lings of forms. The constructed city, the
arrangement of the rural landscape, and in general every-
thing that tells of man's domination of the natural element
express collective meanings. Architecture is to a great
extent the mirror of such meanings, and it is in this way
that its forms acquire stable meanings.
The notion of fitness is therefore able to include very
broad and general questions, questions involving archi-
tecture's correspondence to and harmony with collective
life and its objectives: it is like the mirroring of collective
circumstances which, however they may present them-
selves at the moment, are all points on a line of progress
toward these same objectives. And if it is rather difficult
to speak about this, it is nevertheless tn1e that we have
at our disposal its most evident manifestation in the form
of its analytical representation, so to speak: the history of
fonns, which is nothing less than the history, through
images, of the search for the e,;denee and truth of these
objectives. And it is this that we should be co.ncerned \vith
in the architectural work.
iN ow the world of possible forms, the domain of the work 397
ef architecture, reveals its innumerable ties to the past
through images constructed over time; it is able to explain
itself only through a confrontation with this past; and it
becomes reality only by means of a concrete, positive
imitation. Such imitation is to be u n d ~ t o o d not as nos-
talgic re-evocation, but as the inclusion and surpassing, as
the continuation and unification, of the most general ob-
jectives-and as the ideal circumstances for a positive
transmittal of the elements of the croft.
.As it is necessary to reckon with architecture's particular
oeharacteristics, it is in the same way necessary to consider
as well tJte specific conditiOJI$ of the craft, because these
latter incarnate, so to speak, the very transmissibility of
architecture. La Bruyere said, ''Writing a book is as much
a trade as making a pendulum-dock!" Naturally these
conditions depend directly upon their "product," with the
result that they have become fixed in time; but because
we are able to recognize them from their long application
to an object which is always the same, they offer the
security of fitting means and resolutions, born out of un-
changing necessities (somewhat like a tool, which repre-
sents the form undisputed but established by its use).
Any sort of work implies learning, familiarity, techni.cal
proficiency, acquired mastery; but it also always implies
a sympathy and an appreciation for how much has been
studied, learned, prechosen, and an appreciation of the
standards by which one measures oneself so that one may
more thoroughly come to know a work's reason for being;
and finally it implies a full awareness of the limits of that
particular sort of work.
But does the fanatical desire of the avant-garde, old and
new, to "start from scratch" have anything to do with all
of this? To what state would architecture be reduced (es-
pecially as labor) if it were divertoo from its search Cor its
very raison d'etre, its "truth"?
Once again, especially when confronted with the avant-
gar<lc' s options, we must not forget the particular bond
that exists between the work of architecture and the -pub-
Convnqllk><i matendl
398 Lie. Besides, architecture is a "public matter" par excel-
lence.
In fact, architecture must first of all come to terms with
itself, that is, with its specific characteristics; but at the
same time it must also come to terms with its partkular
social responsibility. And in this light the question of its
rapport with the public becomes impossible to ignore,. For
t his reason the language of architecture is-<>r should be-
an accessible language! Moreover, since architecture en-
ters directly into everyday life (for example, through its
extra-artistic functionality), it creates a permanent bond
that provides a firm critical base from which to pass j udg-
ment upon many "good intentions."
But this bond also has an.other aspect, less evident but
just as important, which relates to architecture's partic-
ular evocative purpose. It is the bond between indh<idual
!ISpirations and the great coUective goals; it is this char-
acteristic tension of ideas which animates the most im-
portant passages of history; it is finally the bond of style,
destined to incarnate these goals.
This tension is recognizable in all the great architecture
of the past: in the most significant moments in the history
of cities, in the buildings of these cities, and in their
predominant forms. Nor does it abate with changes En the
historical conditions. And this is so not only because the
forms become part of the collective memory, but also and
above all because these forms interpret goals that have
existed for a very long time. And 1M forms themselves
do 11ot in time lose thei-r effkacy with to tlwse
goals.
This is precisely the meaning behind the question that
Hannes Meyer asks at the end of his 1942 work, "The
Soviet Architect" ("La Realidad Sovietica: Los Arquitec-
tos," Arquitectum no. 9, 1942): "Will we, the architects
of the democratic countries, be prepared to entrust the
pyramids to the society of the future?" In this work Meyer
affirms that the historicity of architecture has its base in
its most decisive and profound formal problems; he also
goes beyond the symbolic meaning imputed to the pyra-
mids as forms to vindicate the destiny of SfChitectural
forms in general to serve as concrete, perennial testi-
mony.
Moreover, architecture has always been, even in respond-
ing to immediate needs, part of that "world" which most
directly bears witness to the collective desire to leave
traces for the future. In this sense architecture, even at
the moment of its appearance, always finds itself in a
situation of constantly surpassing present actuality in the
attempt to be a collective choice in the broadest sen.se.
As a matter of fact, the medieval city (in its rationale and
economy), the cathedral together with the elements of the
monarchical or the Neoclassical city, the palaces and the
town squares, are always in their forms something more
than the city, even as they cons titute it in fact. I
mean that these forms-these irreplaceable passages in
the history of cities-in their response to the expectations
of the present always interpret the utqpia of this present
as well (that is to say they simultaneously evoke a sense
of fitness).
Architecture cannot fail to come to terms with the partic
ular purpose of its forms-that of testifying, bearing wit-
ness. Mo.reover, if architecture neglects this task, it fails
in the very sense of its lastingness, its material solidity
(which is also a principle in itself). And this also applies
to even the most personal research. For this reason it is
difficult to accept a great deal of t he current experimen-
talism, even when it takes place within a hypothesis that
is affirmative of architecture. Architecture cannot escape
the fate of being collective work in the broadest sense,
not even at a time when historical conditions seem to offer
no way out. Only by measuring itself against its own
historical experience can architecture reasonably hope to
match this experience, and again become a concrete point
of reference in everyday life.
Figure Credits
i-3, 5, 6 From Giol)lio Grassi and Antonio Monestiroli, Caso.
dello St1tdenu a (Rome: Edizioni Kappa, 1980).
4 From Gerda Wangerin and Gerhard Weiss, Heinrich
Te88enow (Essen:'Verbg Richard Bacht, !976)h ed . I
Gupyng t matena
402
1 (frontispiece) M arclifield
(Marzfeld), Reichsparleilagsgelande,
Nuremberg. Albert Speer, 1940,
destroyed in 1950.
2 Danish Entbassy, Berlin-
Tiergarten. J. E. Schaudt, 1999-
1940. Sclutduledfor demolition in
1980-1981 to make way for an
extension to tlut zoo.
Now that construction and the fever for innovation have
calmed down a little, now that the.re are no handy excuses
for further destruction, the time for reflection is at
hand .... It finds us, however, very ill-equipped, for in
truth, the phoenix of modern architecture did not rise
from the ashes of the war; it was on the contrary born in
the immense suffe.ring of an obligatory postwar oblivion-
an oblivion of the past, of architecture, and of a non-
industrial civilization tout COllrl.
Consequently in Germany one associates traditional and
classical architecture with Nazi tyranny and extermina-
tions. For architects the erection of a classical col.umn
causes more pain than the construction of a nuclear re-
actor. They are more afraid of a splendid classical colon-
nade thl!n of a line-up of Krupp PaJJUn;,
I will therefore try to explain the destruction of so many
classical and traditional stuctures by denouncing the
elimination of its most critical and contested examples,
i.e., the most prestigious buildings of Nazi architecture.
In a bitter discussion of the German Werkbund in Drum-
stadt in 1978, the Austrian architect Hans Hollein said.
"Fortunately Hitler didn't have too pronounced a taste for
Wienerschnitzel; othenvise they too would be forbidden
in Germany today." In a similar manner Albert Speer
explained to me that things would be going far bettea for
classical architecture today if Hitler had been a fanatic for
modern art.
After 1945, the Allied victors did not hesitate to take as
spoils of war aU the enemy's technical and industrial ge-
nius. The Reich's industrialists, technicians, and engi-
neers were received with open arms in America, in
France, and in Russia alike. They were able to work in
the comfort of the most reputable institutions and ffi.rms
in order to bring to fruition their most sinister research.
The author of the redoubtable V -2 was to develop the
Saturn missiles; he and his comrades of the swastika were
to be granted the highest marks of distinction by t heir
new patrons.
l!
Let us not forget that the Morgenthau Plan. commis-
sioned by t he Roosevelt and Truman administrations, had
proposed to transform the tenitory of the former Reich
into a purely agricultural landscape with medieval cus-
toms. One ignores, however. that the central objective of
this project was the maximum industrialization of t he
Ruhr and Saar land, to be exploited by multinational
trusts. The proletarians of t hese intemational industrial
zones would probably have had very little to be envied by
the slave.s of the SS industr-ial empire.
The amusing remarks of Hollein and Speer cannot make
us forget, however, that the oblivion of the German past,
however radical, has also been very selective-and very
calculating. But let us imagine for a moment that things
h;1d gone differently . ..
A Politico-Cultur-al Fable
Let us imagine that the repression of Nazism has j ust led
to the destruction of its most grandiose and typical eal-
izations. Thus, for example, Albert Speer has spent the
last months of his ministry undertaking the total destmc-
tion of the industrial installations of the Reich. Let us also
suppose that under the Morgenthau Plan the Saar and the
Ruhr have been in fact transformed into agricultural and
cattle-breeding areas.
Thus in 1946 we see legions of workers all across the old
Reich te.aring up the highways, dynamiting the band new
interchanges, re-planting fields and forests over the re-
mains of the gigantic industrial in,;tallations. The t-oncen-
tration camps ar-e transformed into commemorative mon-
uments, but in the same fever of atonement the "Heimann
Goering" (Salzgitter) steelworks and Volkswagen facto-
ries ru-e destroyed. Where for years t he diabolical war
machine had been foged, now vineyards grow.
To the amazement of the free world. not only are the
emblems and banners of the Reich thrown on t.he scrap-
heap, but also the thousands of gray 'beetles' with which
the FUhrer had hoped to mobilize and subjugate t he Ger-
man people and all of Europe ...
Copyrighted material
3 For the reconstTuction of Gl':l.,wn
cities, r:raft production tootdd have
been completely eliminated
followi,lg Hitler's Housing Edict
19H.
The Bauordnungslebre, a huge book
published by Ermt Neufert 1111der
the awtpices of Albert Speer in 1943,
demonstrates that by 1950 at the
Latest Nazi arcltilture toould lw.ve

fi'\ J- ...a ......... s.cw.a - ..,_..... _.......
... - -.prridooa ........ - ........... -
.. ... lc.ll.h.a--"-
adopted not only the town-planning
p1inciples of C I AM, but the
buildings would have looked lik.e
t>refab buildings as tJtmJ looked all
over the toorld!
4 Boulet'O.rd Lampposts on the east
west cu;is of Berlin. A lbert Speer,
1939.
... V......... Die ..... VOifAiwo ....._lit:h 1::8,.. G.cW.
405
4
3 Cooynqhted mat nul
406
6
mayor of Munich decided to dynamite t he Haus der
Deutschen Kunst (fig. 5). This prestigious building, which
had survived all the bombini,'S in one piece, was saved in
by the American military commander. Speer's
masterpiece, the Chancellery (figs. 7, 8), on the other
hand, served the Russians as a quarry for the construction
of the gigantic monument to the dead of Treptow (fig. 9),
a small price to pay for so many victims and sacrifices.
But in 1967, it was no longer t he conquerors who dyna-
mited Speer's long and elegant colonnade in Nuremberg
(figs. 10, 11). Did Berlin really hope to enrich itself by
dynamiting, in the totally ruined Tiergarten quarter. the
only grand building of Speer's circus (Runder Platz) in
order to erect Mies van der Robe's National Gallery (figs.
12-14)? So many examples from history were available as
examples of wisdom, devoid of all this confusion which
forces us today to pile massacre upon massacre. For in-
stance, we know that the t1iumphal arch of Chalgrin.
erected to the memory of Napoleon's victories, was only
completed after the death of both, under a restored mon-
archy.
Similarly the Christian churches, upon papal bull, were
erected in the Roman baths and basilicas. not least in
order to ensm-e the transition from one culture to another,
rather than making a vict01's ultimate challenge to already
prostrate beliefs.
But here the impotence and .vacuousness, Lhe lack of cul-
tural and human content. and the deep insecurity of this
modernism, which was always and everywhere to conquer
through destruction, was not even able to reuse the most
prestigious buildings of the vanquished and saw fit to bury
the llfilitary Academy, one of the few architectural com-
plexes to be completed dming the Third Reich, under the
gigantic mound of debris that is the Teufelsberg in the
Grunewald of Berlin.
Society Assassinawl
While citizens everywhere are calling modern urbanism
and architecture into question, the "architects" continue
to argue over its deceptive appearance. For the fallacious
and labile masquerade of the styles-first Neoclassical,
Copy gll,ed matenal
408
10
10 Speer's own ltcuse in Zelllendoif
was ironically /til; only builcling
destroyed by bombi;,g.
11 Colonnade al Zeppelinfeld.
Albert Speer, 1935-1937, destroyed
in 1967.
12 Model of Albert Speer's plan for
the Runder Platz, Berlin, showing
the Pemdenvekehrshans.
11
Copyng ' d m<Jtc 1al