One frequently used word in architectural discourses, both in education and practice, is a ‘narrative’. ‘Narrative’ has been thrown around in conversations, especially in developing how to communicate design ideas to peers, studio leaders, critics, clients and beyond. Sometimes, there appear to be situations where a ‘narrative’ is incorporated as a means to post-justify the proposed design, treated like something that gives a frill to a presentation. But what does it truly mean, and what is the significance of it? Is it essential for architecture to exist? Is there a difference between a building speaking for itself, or humans (including architects) putting words into the mouth of a building?
Defining ‘narrative’
According to the Cambridge Dictionary, a narrative is:
- a story or a description of a series of events;
- a particular way of explaining or understanding events.
In architecture, one may deliver a ‘narrative’ to depict spatial experiences of a proposed design through a story-telling approach, which may relate to the first definition. However, what architecture fundamentally aims to achieve or embody may be closer to the second definition (though in plural form), communicating a way of thinking or experiencing rather than imposing how one should experience something.
Sure, architects may have their ways of seeing and designing imprinted in how they ‘narrate’ through a design; architecture exists in the presence of intention. What we mean by architectural narrative (i.e. what architecture makes people think) should be considered independently of what architects often verbally communicate.
Constructing meanings & shaping relationships
In Architecture and Narrative, Sophia Psarra describes that architecture “does not only express meaning… It also participates in the construction of meaning through the ordering of spaces and social relationships. Architects respond to this ordering by orchestrating relations independently of a viewer’s perception.” (p.2) In this sense, architecture is not a mere expression of something; instead, it may resemble languages or music – the narration gives people different levels of understanding and meaning depending on their past experiences and knowledge.
Psarra compares architecture to the design of exhibitions in describing the role of narration. Unlike other forms of creative expression, in which narratives often concern the representation of something, exhibition design shapes its narrative by interpreting and conceptually weaving together a collection of artefacts. Depending on what and how artefacts are chosen, organised and given a multitude of meanings on top of their own significance, exhibition space can present unique spatial and conceptual relationships, or in other words, narratives. Exhibition design has the potential to invite the audience to perceive and engage with artefacts in an entirely new way, and in a sense, architecture does the same thing. Depending on how architecture responds and interacts with a place, visitors would perceive and engage with the place differently.
In a sense, an architectural narrative emerges out of the construction of meanings. Both subconsciously and through formal education, individuals learn to perceive and identify elements in everyday lives that signify something else: a symmetrical facade signifies a sense of permanence, stability and authority, a green light means go, and water droplets on a bench and wet pavers suggest it rained a while ago. A narrative can be shaped by associating perceptions based on temporal observational findings.
The concept that architecture can exist without any justifications by external references is called non-referential architecture. Valerio Olgaiti and Markus Breitschmid argue in Non-Referential Architecture that the “widespread affective response of overcoming the apparent loss of content by means of imbuing building with meaning from extra-architectural sources is futile… Architecture engenders, above all else, a basic physical and sensual experience prior to also initiating intellectual interpretation.” Olgaiti and Breitschmid’s point of view clarifies that architecture doesn’t need to be explained to be felt, questioning the emphasis on the importance of intellectualising architecture over the viewers/visitors’ perspectives.
So, how can we understand it? (I’m not saying a narrative is bad, I just don’t think it encompasses what architecture is…)
Bringing the thoughts back to the practical use of narratives in architectural education and practice, how should architects narrate architecture?
Although there is no single black-and-white answer, thinking about narrative (for the last couple of months – I started writing this article a long time ago) made me feel a need to take a step before the actual ‘architectural narrative’, which is to construct shared meanings. What if there is a conversation with clients and stakeholders to ensure an aligned understanding of what is of value to engage through architecture? A simple example may be an existing tree that provides a focal point to a design, a nice view from a room, or a shade in the afternoon. The interpretation of the significance of those existing circumstances and tangible elements, like the artefacts for an exhibition, would help shape how they can be narrated through architecture. The architectural devices or moves we integrate into proposed designs may respond to the specific values or perspectives of the agreed elements of value, not necessarily ‘representing’ or ‘symbolising’ them.
As Psara states “architecture is not a story or a sequence of events, but this book [Architecture and Narrative] sees the conceptual properties, perceptual experience and the organisation of the cultural message as its potential instruments for narration” (p.4) a ‘narrative’ in architecture can be considered as a means to portray architecture in a certain way, but not architecture as a whole.
Reference:
Olgiati, Valerio, and Markus Breitschmid. 2019. Non-Referential Architecture. 1. Auflage, Revidierte Ausgabe. Zürich: Park Books.
Psarra, Sophia. 2009. Architecture and Narrative: The Formation of Space and Cultural Meaning. London, New York: Routledge.
Saran Kim | Blog 