After I was given the task of coordinating the architecture department of the Section for Fine Arts at the Goetheanum in 2000, I encountered various approaches to looking at buildings. The one that occurred most frequently and was labelled “Goetheanistic” by its representatives involved first of all a precise description of the object of observation. Lines, shapes, colours etc. were described in detail, e.g. in a group exercise. However, no particular insight was gained concerning the impact, meaning or essence of the building. What usually happened was that, after the description, people went back to emotional judgements and impressions, which seemed rather questionable to me. Certainly a close observation of the object can be helpful, but a deeper understanding of the architecture cannot come from the description of the physical features alone. I had the feeling that it should be more about the inner attitude of the viewer if one wants to perceive deeper aspects. One of my main concerns was to arrive at an objective experience of the influence of architecture on people. This theme plays a central role both in judging the quality of a building and in design, when the planner feels responsibility for the results of his work. Such a sense of responsibility is one of the foundations, perhaps the most important, for the emergence of organic design, which differs from other approaches precisely in its rejection of the arbitrary. I then tried to look at buildings with the attitude of “pure perception”, that is, to allow the perceptions to have an effect on me in a contemplative state without prejudices, personal feelings and thought associations and to observe the consequences of this effect. It is easier to put oneself in such a position if one engages in the exercises of the anthroposophical path of training. Thanks to this consciously practised way of looking, I soon realised that different architectural forms also evoke different sensations in the physical body and that different elements of the same building can be reflected in different places in the body and, depending on their design, cause certain resonances. If you are able to observe these effects in the body closely, you can also gain an understanding of the unconscious influence of architecture on people – right down to the civilising aspects. For example, one can experience how the point of a Gothic arch causes a feeling of concentration in one point of the body – usually in the forehead or chest area, depending on the individual’s disposition – whereby the two halves of the arch and the pillars awaken a calming feeling of downward currents in the limbs, which at the same time stimulates the individual to straighten up. From this, one can understand the general effect of Gothic in strengthening individual consciousness as a precursor to the Renaissance. Such results are not subjective, because experience shows that all people who can develop the contemplative attitude described above – and with a little guidance, almost everyone can – develop similar sensations. Over the years, I have undertaken contemplations with groups of architects and lay people from very different countries and age groups, and I have always been amazed at how quickly most of the participants were able to come to their own objective perceptions. Even those who find it difficult to abandon the usual way of looking at things can usually, with a little effort, direct their attention to the effects in their own bodies. I initially developed the approach described in connection with architectural forms consisting of constructive or decorative elements. In the perception of space, the single elements and the construction do not play the main role. The effect of space is also different from that of forms. It does not manifest itself through its influence on certain areas of the body. In order to perceive it consciously, one must also become active in the contemplative posture and feel the spatial boundaries inwardly, as if one were adapting one’s own body to the spatial form. It is also important to feel the shape of the space as if in an inner movement. When you do this, you experience the effect of the space on your body and soul. It is more difficult to grasp than the effect of the architectural elements, especially with complex designs. But even with relatively simple rooms, you get different impressions from different points of view. The task is then to bring the variety of experiences together inwardly in order to gradually reach an experience of the essential qualities. In order to practise this kind of spatial observation before moving on to real situations, I often first suggest group work in which the participants create different room layouts from cardboard or plastic sheets measuring around 1 x 1.5 metres and try to experience them from the inside. Even under such simple and somewhat abstract circumstances, the participants get strong impressions and can thus experience and compare the effect of shapes such as polygons and ovals. If you change the basic shape – e.g. from a triangle to a hexagon – without the viewers leaving the interior space formed, you can even notice in the facial expressions and gestures how immediately the mood changes in the transition from one shape to the other.

Again, it is obvious from such experiments that the effects experienced are by no means subjective and arbitrary. However, they remain largely unconscious for those who do not pay attention to them. The described approach helps to bring such unconscious processes to light in order to develop an understanding of the consequences of one’s own decisions, also with regard to design practice. In addition to the influences on the physical body and its etheric stream of forces, there are also those that primarily take place in the soul realm. An eminent example of this are the effects of colour and light, but also aspects of form that are less constructive and more plastic – decorative, like the ornaments in a historical building. This does not mean that the influences on the body have no effect on the soul; in fact, they are generally stronger than the pure soul effects. However, the latter are easier to grasp consciously because they take place in an area where people are more alert and used to observing. For this reason, it is unfortunately often the case that people tend to limit themselves to the emotional level when observing architecture without delving deeper. For a holistic experience, however, it is important to include all levels, especially as the mental level is more subjective than the physical level. I therefore find it helpful when looking at buildings to first become aware of the effects on the physical and only then to include the psychological effects. You will also realise that a large part of what is experienced in the soul becomes understandable through the influences on the physical. In the sense of Rudolf Steiner’s building impulse, this experience could be described as projecting the forces of the physical body into space. Thus, by observing one’s own body under the influence of architecture, one can experience the forces that have created the forms.

This article was first published in the magazine “Stil”, Johanni 2024, 46th year Issue 2

Luigi Fiumara

The IFMA came into being at a time – the end of the 1980s – that can almost be described as the culmination of the popularity of anthroposophically inspired organic architecture – symbolised by the ING Bank headquarters in Amsterdam, by the design of the Deutsche Bahn trains by the firm BPR and by the Rudolf Steiner Seminar in Järna. The size, quantity and significance of the projects carried out by anthroposophical architects generated widespread interest in their approach. In such a situation, the need for exchange and deepening was natural, and the IFMA provided a platform for this.
Today we are in an almost polar situation, where even anthroposophical institutions often show little interest in – or even rejection of – organic design, and where regulatory and economic developments often lead to major restrictions on freedom in planning. Accordingly, the amount of requests and the number and quality of realised projects in the field of organic architecture are much more modest than in the 1980s and 1990s. Therefore, the question naturally arises as to how far and with what objectives an exchange on the topics of organic design can be interesting and appropriate on the background of the current situation. Even the further existence of a magazine like M+A cannot be taken for granted at a time when new significant organic buildings rarely emerge and can be shown.
Looked at another way, perhaps it is precisely in such a time of crisis that it is important to have the opportunity to exchange ideas about the foundations and future development of an ideal approach, in order to jointly explore new ways of developing an impulse.
In this sense, it is of great importance to also notice and discuss small attempts that try to respond to today’s challenges, because in them can lie the seeds for new approaches. The more such small – and perhaps outwardly insignificant compared to earlier impressive achievements – examples will come to light, the easier it will be for other architects to build on them to develop new ways of working.
Another phenomenon that increases the importance of an exchange platform is the growing amount  of interesting examples of organic architecture in countries and continents that previously had nothing to offer from this point of view. At the same time, areas where much has been created in the past are becoming less active. One consequence of this is the ever increasing differentiation of design approaches and working methods, depending on the environment and culture. We as editors very much hope that the new online format can make a significant contribution to the development of a global awareness of the situation and achievements of the organic movement. This will be all the more successful if spontaneous reports on projects and events also flow in from various corners of the world.
The possibility of automated translation of content built into the website should serve to overcome language barriers in all directions, for both readers and authors. On the whole, the articles – compared to a printed medium – will have less pretension to perfection, in favour of spontaneity and diversity.
Our wish would be to continually expand the circle of contributors and co-writers, more along the lines of a forum than of a traditional magazine. So feel not only a reader but also a contributor to the new medium, and please send us any material – even if just pictures of a little-known project you happened to see – that you think might be of interest to others. There won’t be too much!

Neja Häbler, Christoph Schmidt (Germany)

In May, at the Alanus University in Alfter, young and adult practicing architects and architecture students interested in Organic Architecture gathered to exchange experiences and deepen the theme of “Intention and inspiration in the design process“. Such occasions are very meaningful to me, as they represent a chance to meet directly people from around the world who are, in their own way, trying to work in a similar direction.This gathering had also the particularity that a couple students from Alanus became an active and a vital part of its organization, which I found pretty inspiring. This active participations of students who, like myself, are curious to learn and experience the theory and practice of architecture through the lens of Rudolf Steiner’s worldview, was a novelty to me. This workshop, that was attended by numerous students alongside architects, was characterized by a joyful and enriching atmosphere full of genuine curiosity and enthusiasm. The will of sharing, a thirst for knowledge, a curiosity that wants to be fulfilled, the desire of finding something meaningful were tangible energies that the meeting brought forth. The balance between generations is something pretty unusual within the niche of Anthroposophical Architecture. This unique environment led at the end of the meeting, after various contributions and practical exercises during the first days, to fundamental questions on the interplay between form and matter, the intrinsic meaning of sustainability and the essential importance of the experience of the architectural space. Future and new gatherings like this are essential to start building a diverse and robust network of young and adult architects who need constant coming together in order to explore new questions and solutions fitting the present time.

Nicolas Gemelli (Italy)

Also the two workshops, one in English and one in German, were an occasion of experiencing how different generations of architects address one and the same task, and of exchanging and comparing various approaches. In the final conversation several questions and themes arose and became object of discussion, for instance the relationship between art and architecture, the choice between strongly individualized design and flexibility, how to understand sustainability in the context of organic design, how to come to a real experience of the quality of space and architecture, to which extent the design of a space affects the social life within itself. It was encouraging for me to see how interested the young participants were in these issues. At the same time I had the impression that many of the aspects we touched are still unexplored for them and that it would be helpful to deepen them in future meetings. In general, I am very thankful for this occasion of getting to know more closely the new students of the Alanus University, who are certainly different from the ones I teach in Ukraine and Italy. I hope this was the beginning of an exchange which will continue in the next years.

A most enriching part of this workshop was to come in contact and exchange ideas with a generation of future architects, and at the same time to exchange and hear from experienced professionals. As I seat between these two poles, I reflect upon the themes brought about and I can say that it all comes down to culture, sense of place and natural environment when it comes to architectural intentions. Each culture, place and environment live with its own questions and its own particular answers that can only be dealt with from within-out. Perhaps if such kind of workshops could be done in different locations, the processes would enrich and diversify the outcomes, along with mixing the work teams not just by language but also a mix of age and gender etc.. The question of inspiration is of the outmost importance in an age where AI can give all the answers making the architects imagination handicap and forgotten, though I am convinced that algorithms will never replace the human capacity of Imagination, Inspiration and Intuition. The theme of inspiration still needs a whole lot of investigation, imagination, and application at a personal and community level within architecture, to start to comprehend it and thus allow a complete flow of the Will of the Spirit to be active in us as we and specially our creative thoughts become the future architecture.

Cecilia Ramirez Corzo (Mexico-Japan)

Changes in architecture and in society

For many decades, from the time of its emergence, organic architecture was an antithesis to the prevailing functionalism and the materialistic-scientific thinking associated with it. The differences between the two streams were also clearly recognisable on a formal level, in fact so recognisable that many – especially lay people – mainly distinguished the external features, often without knowing what the difference in content was. For this reason, organic architecture was and still is mistakenly seen by many as an outward style rather than an approach. Even some organic-minded architects have more or less consciously fallen into this mood and have made little effort to deepen the intentions and backgrounds, sometimes only imitating certain formal solutions of the masters. Already with postmodernism, however, the situation has fundamentally changed. The search for more humane, lively and healthy solutions has led several architects, in different ways, to incorporating aspects of the organic approach into their own working methods. Topics that were and are taboo for the functionalists, such as the appearance of the living (in Rudolf Steiner’s words) or individual expression in buildings, can today be more prominent in the work of star architects who do not see themselves as being „organic“ – such as Frank Gehry, Zaha Hadid, Norman Foster and others – than in the work of the organic designers. From the nineties onwards, one can observe a strong, general tendency towards the creation of organism-like buildings. This phenomenon has raised a strong question of self-understanding among organic architects, a question that, in my opinion, has not yet received a clear answer.
In parallel with the aforementioned tendency, however, one can perceive, after the end of postmodernism, a new powerful minimalist and conceptual wave in world architecture, which is certainly in absolute majority on the plan of the numbers of realised buildings.
On the cultural and social level, one finds a similar situation: on the one hand, growing spiritual currents that reach into mass culture (see films such as „Cloud Atlas“ on the theme of reincarnation or entire series of Buddhist-inspired films), and on the other hand, the ever-increasing prevalence of material values and the materialistic way of thinking in art, science and everyday life.
It is not meant that the tendencies in society find a direct and clear expression in architecture. What is common is the appearance of a strong polarisation both in society and in architecture, so that today we can no longer talk about a mainstream (like functionalism in the past) and a small niche that is little noticed by the public (like organic architecture at that time), but about a struggle between comparably strong impulses that take hold of the whole of society.
In organic architecture, too, one can see comparable processes in the last 20 years, with the emergence of a fairly widespread “organic minimalism” – partly also due to economic and regulatory conditions – on the one hand, and the interest, sometimes with public success – as in the case of Gregory Burgess, Javier Senosain, Douglas Cardinal, Santiago Calatrava – for distinct and even intensified, formally recognisable organic solutions on the other. It is also worth noting that even the term “organic architecture” has experienced an increasingly broad resonance and application.

Needs behind the time phenomena 

The situation described poses various challenges for organic architects.
The interest in many aspects of organic design and the adoption of its approaches in several examples of contemporary architecture speak about a partly conscious, partly unconscious urge in a certain number of our contemporaries. This urge includes, synthesizing, the experience of spiritual and essential qualities, the search for a meaningful relationship between buildings and their surroundings, the creation of a space that is individually designed according to the function of the building and supports both the soul life and the life forces, to name only the most striking points. Today, these aspects appear sometimes together, sometimes separatedly, in the case of clients who are not explicitly looking for an organic design for ideological reasons. I could name several cases from my own experience where people who have no design or anthroposophical background, after encountering examples of organic architecture, recognise them as the expression of their deep-seated desires. What often amazes me in this context is people’s ability to experience and describe the qualities of architecture. There are a many clients who are amazingly good at observing the effect buildings have on them. This characteristic, which is widespread today and which I believe is connected with the general development of humanity, demands of architects a corresponding awareness and the ability to respond to the specific, exterior and inner needs of each individual, and to connect them with the general needs of people today, because every building, even if planned for a specific client, always has a public side and is a part of the urban organism. The perception of the spiritual-essential in architecture, for example, is one of the most important aspects that can satisfy the modern need for the development of individuality. This is the reason why it appears more and more often, even intuitively or unconsciously, outside the organic movement. Similar things can be said with regard to qualities such as the dynamic, the appearance of the living, the transformation of form (if not directly metamorphosis), the experience of polarities and many other things. All these aspects can be traced back to the need for spiritual development of the human being, because they help to form the inner abilities that are necessary for a conscious perception of the spiritual.

The need to develop new abilities

If one wants to meet the needs mentioned above as an architect, one must oneself develop a sense for the qualities and processes described. This was already the case in the beginnings of organic design, and one can see how its pioneers tried in various ways to immerse themselves in the spiritual content of the world. Today, however, this call is even stronger, because the search for spiritual knowledge and even the development of supersensible perceptive abilities – as already indicated earlier – are present in ever broader layers of our society. The tendency, which is often also found among architect-anthroposophists, not to underline or not to mention at all in public the satisfaction of spiritual needs through organic design – perhaps because of the fear of not being understood or accepted – leads to an incomplete and thus unconvincing picture of the aims of organic architecture. For the purpose of developing a contemporary organic approach, it is first and foremost necessary to reconsider its tasks in the light of the times. If one does this, one also easily comes to the realisation that the endeavour to fulfil such tasks depends on the designer’s ability to delve into the deeper layers of reality, which are connected with life, soul and spirit forces. This concerns, for example, the understanding of the clients in their soul constitution and in their destiny and development potential, the understanding of the place with its life forces and spiritual beings, the understanding of the function of the building not only in its physical aspects, the understanding of the time situation and of the cultural environment in which the project will be embedded and much more.
It is precisely in this intention to perceive the world and the building task with all its facets and conditions on the various levels, from the physical to the spiritual, that I think the main difference lies, between organic and especially anthroposophically-inspired architecture and other approaches, which however sometimes also, mainly unconsciously, reach similar results.
In addition to the perceptual abilities that everyone carries in one’s own constitution, new ones can be developed through practice and with the help of experience. This is a large part of the work of those who want to design organically. This does not mean that organic design is not possible without supersensible perceptions, though. Thinking itself is already a supersensible activity, and the question is to what extent one can bring it to life in order to come to the perception of spiritual connections. Something similar can be said about feeling, which – through liberation from emotions and subjectivity – can also become an instrument of perception. At every stage of personal development, the architect can strive to experience as best he can the supersensible aspects of the building task. It is important to understand that humanity is still at the beginning of developing new perceptual abilities, but that it is therefore important to strive for this development. The same is required in all fields: in medicine, in pedagogy, in agriculture, etc.
The topic of developing perceptual skills is particularly relevant in the context of the theme of positive contemporary design, because this is only possible through a genuine and conscious experience of the changing spirit of  the time. Imitation or, at best, re-creation based on the work of the pioneers of the organic movement, who had a clear perception of the necessities of their times, could lead to results corresponding to the spirit of the time as long as it had not changed too much. Today, contemporary design based on older examples is no longer possible; it requires independent and well-founded insights.

The appearing of being-like qualities (in German „Wesenhaftes“; expression of an individual being) in architecture

One example of this kind of observation – in addition to the tendency towards the appearance of organisms in contemporary architecture mentioned at the beginning – is the emergence of being-like qualities in the interior of buildings. Very striking in this sense is the drop-like ceiling of the hyperboloid part of the BMW Erlebniswelt in Munich by Coop-Himmelb(l)au. Looking at it, one can have the impression that an alien, mysterious being is descending into the space. You get a comparable effect in Frank Gehry’s DZ Bank in Berlin, where a wild figure appears in the courtyard of a fairly conventional building. I believe that such solutions are connected with the increasingly frequent occurrence of supernatural experiences in the consciousness (the interior) of people today and with the longing for them. One can come to this insight with a certain degree of certainty if one looks at the examples mentioned in connection with other phenomena in culture, e.g. films such as “Matrix” or “The Lord of the Rings”. An example of organic design where an attempt is made to connect to this need is, in my opinion, the festivel hall of the Rudolf Steiner School in Salzburg by Jens Peters. In the middle of the lazured undulated ceiling there is a translucent oval that lets in light and that can be perceived as an immaterial apparition in the flood of colours. The big difference with the BMW building is that the brightness of the oval and its embedding in the lazure have more of a friendly and joyful quality, in contrast to the armour-like, wormy and dark character of the drop of Coop-Himmelb(l)au. Thus, a similar approach gives different results depending on what mood of being the designer has connected with. This does not mean any judgement of the different solutions given the different contexts.

Transparency in the interiors

Another example of the changing spirit of time can be the growing transparency within buildings and the possibility of looking through different layers of space simultaneously. The Mercedes-Benz Museum in Stuttgart by UN-Studio – like other projects by Ben van Berkel – is designed according to these principles. From each loop of the three-leaf ramp, one gains ever new insights into the other opposite loops through the central triangular space. At the edge of the ramp, at the outermost points, vertical visual connections with the lower levels also open up through glazing. The transparency and visual penetration of space can lead to an experience of the possibility of inner looking and the penetration of different layers of the soul and spirit, which certainly corresponds to a growing need – just think of the development and spread of psychology and psychoanalysis – of the present day. First attempts in this direction in the organic field can be found in the 60s – 70s in the work of Giovanni Michelucci, most strongly in the church of Borgomaggiore (Republic of San Marino), and of Hans Scharoun, especially the foyer of the Berlin Philarmonic Hall. A closer example in time that addresses the visual penetration of spaces is the Weleda administration building in Schwäbisch-Gmünd by the BPR office in Stuttgart. Here, too, one can look from the upper floor through glazing onto the atriums below, which connect several floors vertically, and through another glazing into the open air and onto opposite parts of the building. One can even see the interior behind the glass façade of the conference hall. Thus the view deepens through four layers of space and three glazings, from the inside to the outside into the open air and then back inside again.

Satisfying soul and spiritual needs

The special nature of organic architecture’s approach to the tendencies of the time should again lie in the deepening of its spiritual foundations and in the attempt to grasp and unfold the developmental aspects of such tendencies. This makes it possible not only to passively go along with the general trends, but sometimes to turn them in new directions or to balance out one-sidedness.
An example of this can be seen in the possible attitudes towards the resurgence of minimalism and “objectivity”, which in recent years has been largely related to issues of energy efficiency and economy of means. This has led to the emergence of a largely soulless architecture and, as mentioned at the beginning of the article, has greatly influenced the organic design of recent decades. It repeats – under different conditions – the process that led to the spread of rationalism partly for economic reasons. In this case, the task of the organic designer can be to show how one can create buildings – with consideration for the new demands – that satisfy the soul and spiritual needs of people. Even Rudolf Steiner was already concerned with this question when he designed the Schuurman House and the Transformer House in Dornach. With Frank Lloyd Wright one can also find this concern – especially in the Usonian Houses. The work of Erik Asmussen and the later designs of Winfried Reindl were the first attempts in the anthroposophical field to find a balance between organicism and minimalism.
However, I would not think that this direction is the only possible one for our time. The examination of the reduction of means and the language of form is one pole of contemporary architecture. On the other hand, more and more complicated and expressive, sometimes wild designs are being created today. This belongs to our time just as much as reduction, and organic architects can also deal with this in order to combine the expressive power, which was already noticeable in its most extreme manifestation at the beginning of the 20th century with Hermann Finsterlin, and which – thanks to technical progress – can be even realised today, with an awareness of human needs and of the spiritual in the world. The projects of Douglas Cardinal and Gregory Burgess are examples of this possibility, as they allow an expressive design to emerge from the function and context of the building.

These brief references to features of the period are only small examples to illustrate the approach outlined. I am convinced that an important task of organic architects today is to delve more and more into understanding the developments of society and to engage in a kind of exploratory conversation with each other on the subject, in order to complement the different points of view and perceptions. This can form a basis in terms of content and ideas for a joint effort in the modern world.

Published in M+A 99-100, 1/2019

Ego and Individuality

From the beginning of the Renaissance until the end of the 19th century, mankind became more and more involved and connected with earthly matter. At the same time, a new quality in human development emerged – the development of human individuality – which was already predisposed in Greco-Roman times, but only became generally effective since the Renaissance. When we ask ourselves today what is the spiritual dimension in architecture, it is directly related to the spiritual situation of humanity, which is connected to the theme of the individual development of man in our time.

Donato Bramante (c. 1444-1514), who as one of the most important architects of the Renaissance was commissioned to build the new Church of St. Peter in Rome (from 1506), had in mind for this church – that is, for the most important building task of Christianity at that time – the ideal of creating a combination of the principle of the basilica with its arches and naves (Maxentius Basilica, 307-313 A.D.) and the principle of the central space such as the Pantheon in Rome (consecrated c. 125 A.D.). In the Pantheon, one felt oneself placed in the centre of space for the first time. Even the central axes of the pyramid-like coffers of the dome converge not at the centre of the hemisphere, but at the centre of the floor, i.e. where the visitor stands. It is certainly no coincidence that the Pantheon was not dedicated to a particular god, but to “all the gods”, so that one could experience oneself in this way at the centre of the whole divine world. This central space, however, is still conceived as a temple and does not have the direction of movement associated with the basilica as a longitudinal building. Bramante now wanted to unite these two principles. Thus, in the Renaissance, a certain new quality of individuality emerged that had not existed before: on the one hand, the experience of the self in the centrality, and on the other hand, the dynamic of movement, the striving of the individual in a certain direction.

These are, of course, beginnings that did not immediately blossom because the interest in matter and towards the external manifestations of nature, especially in the 18th/19th centuries, tended to hinder it. So we cannot say that the process of individualisation in the sense of a connection with the spiritual moved steadily forwards, but one can see in the Renaissance and Baroque, for example in the work of Borromini (1599-1667), the beginnings of an organic thinking and expression in architecture, above all in Borromini’s approach to learning from the laws of living nature.

The architecture of the 19th century with its eclecticism is an extreme expression of excessive subjectivity, whereby the individual orders a house that corresponds to his dreams, wishes and taste. The contrast between the Batlló House in Barcelona (1904-1906) by Antoni Gaudí (1852-1926) and the roughly contemporary neighbouring building by Domenèch i Montaner (1850-1923) shows that we have arrived at a time when everyone can wish for whatever they want if they only have the necessary money and if it is permitted by law. This raises the question of the freedom of individuality or egoism that wants to develop in a time when religious and social forms are losing more and more of their power.

If the human being does not give any particular thought to this new condition, it is often the case that other forces replace the impulse and try in various ways to steer its further development in certain directions. Some, very widespread manifestations of contemporary architecture are expressions of forces that would rather retard the expression of individuality and prevent mankind from becoming aware of its individual essence. Through repetition, anonymity and monotony in the environment, mankind is influenced in such a way that the actual sense of individuality is clouded.

There are other forces that are trying to strengthen egoism so that the ego becomes self-possessed, addicted to power and too closely attached to the earth. In the Torre Agbar by Jean Nouvel (*1945), an office and residential building in Barcelona built in 2004, one can see an extreme expression of pride and arrogance. It is not a sacred building, but it is nevertheless as tall as Antoni Gaudí’s Sagrada Familia (begun in 1882) and dominates its surroundings even more. The sense of power that radiates from this building is interestingly associated with a colourfulness that is reminiscent of something like organic life substances, whose appearance is, however, not entirely healthy. When you see this building from a distance, you have the feeling that blood is flowing over the surface – a very powerful sensual impression indeed.

There is another way in which this hypertrophied egoism seeks to manifest itself in buildings. It does not take such an aggressive approach as with the Agbar Tower, but creates elements of entertainment architecture. This architecture is usually created by large offices like Atkins Design Studio, which today work with hundreds of employees mainly in countries like the United Arab Emirates or Saudi Arabia and create such images – they are actually more images than concrete buildings – that have the task of satisfying emotional needs for playful qualities, superficial amusement and ever new surprises.

On a smaller scale, such approaches can also be found in Europe. A new building district in Amsterdam near the central station shows the effort to create a lively environment in which the separate houses are more individualised than usual – in other words, they pose the question of individuality and diversity. This is achieved with witty façade elements such as hanging windows, curved eaves, arbitrary differences in height, etc. These are all façade designs that, in my opinion, have little content, but are all the more driven by the intention to add a bit of wit. In principle, again, no impulse for a real inner satisfaction or even further development of the human being is discernible.

One can of course ask what is supposed to be bad about building with wit. I suspect that an inhabitant who is exposed to these “jokes” every day will not find them so funny after a short time, because they are too superficial and the user experiences a kind of weakening of his emotional life in the long run; for in the end, one’s own individuality is placed in constant relation to a mere joke. Such phenomena are most often found in Eastern Europe, such as the Nautilus shopping centre on the Lubjanka Square in Moscow. This example shows how many different elements, styles and games with shapes and colours can come together in one building as an expression of emotional streams. Basically, this is more or less the same eclecticism that appeared in Europe at the end of the 19th century. During my long stays in Eastern Europe, I observed that life itself becomes very superficial when people are always surrounded by such buildings.

At the beginning of the 20th century, pioneers of organic architecture like Antoni Gaudí felt the need to do something so that people could become aware of their own individuality and find support for their development through architecture. These pioneers tried to do this in different ways, each according to constitution and possibilities. At this point I do not want to analyse the work of these architects, but will try to show what approaches I see to meet these needs in the spirit of today’s times.

Reflection through the medium of architecture

A first possibility is the reflection of individuality through architecture, in that people are able to perceive an individual expression in a building and are thus drawn to experiencing their own individuality. In Antoni Gaudí’s Casa Milà (1906-1910), a large apartment building in Barcelona, the effort to give each window and corner a distinct individual expression is evident. This shows that even in such a building, which was not planned for one particular person but for a large number of families, the quality of the individual can be reflected.

In a less plastic way, this can also be found in the work of Frank Lloyd Wright (1867-1959). In the Unity Temple in Oak Park/Illionis (1904), one can perceive – despite the great simplicity of the volumes – the reflection of an individual attitude in the way the view along the street is designed. This is probably due to the fact that the central section is perhaps only 30 to 40 centimetres closer to the street than the lateral elements, and that the proportions of the façade give the impression that the upper section, with its windows and eaves, seems to be looking out from the building. Such qualities can be experienced even more strongly in the later works of Frank Lloyd Wright, such as the Unitarian Church in Madison, Wisconsin (1947).

Apart from the pioneers of this movement, one can find many buildings throughout the 20th century that exhibit the qualities mentioned, such as the towers of the ING Bank by Alberts & Van Huut in Amsterdam (1987). In this case, the type of design is also linked to the intention of individualising the towers so that, despite the size of the complex, the different groups of employees can identify with their own place of work, in contrast to the anonymity usually found in office buildings. This approach can also be found very strongly in many of Santiago Calatrava’s works, such as the extension to the Milwaukee Art Museum (1994-2001), where, compared to the ING Bank, one can perceive on the outside a stronger dynamic, a quality of movement.

This building in particular leads us to a second aspect, to what extent an interior can also offer an opportunity to reflect individuality, for the perception of the view is, after all, only a first moment in the encounter with a building. When I dealt with the subject of interiors on the occasion of a lecture, I was amazed to notice how there is also a basic principle in interior design throughout the 20th century that has to do with Bramante’s idea, but which was only able to spread in the 20th century. We can see this exemplified in the pavillion of the Milwaukee Museum, a space that widens from the entrance to about the middle of its total length and then narrows again, coming to a conclusion (in this case with a peak). This creates a sense of the connection between centrality and dynamism: one moves in the direction of the axis of symmetry, one comes to an experience of widening and then of centre, but one does not remain in the centre (as in the Pantheon), but one moves on, one gets an impulse to develop further, to overcome pure egoism. This is a spatial principle that runs as a leitmotif through the entire organic architecture of the 20th century.

An archetype of this, or one of the earliest spaces of this kind, is the hall of the second Goetheanum, which opens towards the stage and contains within itself the idea of the double dome or the interpenetration of audience and stage space. The spatial interpenetration in Gaudí’s Cripta Güell, which is not derived from the Goetheanum, shows that motifs appeared simultaneously in various places at the beginning of the 20th century as an expression of the Time Spirit.

Inner attitude and design quality

So far I have talked about reflections of individuality. There can also be a reflection or more an inner perception of this quality in the interior. The aspect of development can unfold even more expressively through metamorphosis and through the transformation of forms, as can be seen in the exterior of the second Goetheanum or in the interior of the first. Architects like Jens Peters have tried to convey the sense of development in their buildings. In the Waldorf School in Salzburg (1st building phase 1991-1994, 2nd building phase 2008; cf. Mensch+Architektur no. 61/62) the various parts are obviously in a process of development and transformation, although in this case, I think, there is no metamorphosis as in the forms of the first Goetheanum. That is to say, through this design the aspiration, the impulse towards development can be experienced, also through the design of the roofs and through the whole movement of the building.

Another aspect besides the reflection of individuality and the stimulation of its development is the conveying of inner attitudes which, after all, support inner development. This is about feeling the expression of the building more deeply and consciously and connecting it with certain soul qualities. This basically means that an architect who strives for something like this must also be able to sense the inner attitudes that enable development or a connection to the spiritual. For if one accepts that an individuality exists as a being, one inevitably comes to the conclusion that this development of the individuality is in inner connection with the other beings in the world, which can also be called “the spiritual”. For this reason Rudolf Steiner describes anthroposophy as a path of knowledge which seeks to lead the spiritual in the human being to the spiritual in the universe of the world. This means that individuality, which through the centuries has increasingly separated itself from the spiritual and increasingly connected itself with matter, must again find access to the spiritual. That is the perspective of development. Architecture can carry qualities and attitudes that are helpful for people to move forward on this path.

In the Bergen Kindergarten (1981), a design by Espen Tharaldsen, we can perceive an attitude of love, a gesture of love that is expressed through this building and can really be taken up by people as an example of how to relate to the environment and to fellow human beings. Another quality is, for example, openness to the world, as expressed in the view from the main road in the House of Culture in Järna (1992) by Erik Asmussen (1913-1998). The building, which stretches horizontally in the landscape, opens up to the whole environment and shows two tower-like elements on the two sides, which reinforce these movements through the vertical accents and bring them to a conclusion in a kind of awareness.

 Architecture as an aid to spiritual scholarship

Understanding these qualities helps to describe the intentions and characteristics of organic architecture in a non-dogmatic way and to compare it with other approaches. An objective evaluation of architecture needs a concrete basis, which I believe can only lie in observing the impact of buildings on human development. For me, the topicality of Rudolf Steiner’s architecture (1861-1925) lies precisely in the fact that buildings such as the Goetheanum combine many of the qualities mentioned to the highest degree. For example, Rudolf Steiner incorporated into the exterior design of the second Goetheanum (from 1924) the fundamental attitudes necessary for a person embarking on the path of spiritual training or inner development. If you let the impression from the west elevation live in you long enough, you will realise that it radiates an inner attitude that is connected with the qualities of spiritual discipleship. One aspect, for example, is the combination of concentration and individual power, especially thanks to the shape of the upper window and the vertical axis of symmetry; the other is the great openness that one finds especially in the lower area at the level of the terrace. This building combines the two qualities of the soul that are presented in Rudolf Steiner’s book ‘Knowledge of Higher Worlds’ as fundamental prerequisites for the training of the spirit: “an open heart for the needs of the outer world” and “inner firmness and unshakeable perseverance”. In this sense, the Goetheanum is actually an object in whose expression one can immerse oneself in order to acquire some qualities that one needs to strengthen in one’s own development.

The same can be said about many other buildings. In the Unity Temple by Frank Lloyd Wright that I mentioned, you find to a certain extent the quality that you find in the second Goetheanum and also, in my opinion, an amazing similarity in the expression of the two buildings, in the way they look, in the inner attitude that they convey. This means that both architects must have had a similar feeling for this quality of looking into another world, into a supersensible realm.

Dealing with the Expression of Beings

I would like to mention one last level with the help of which one can find access to the spiritual. It concerns the formation of an environment in which the human being not only perceives his own individuality, but in which he feels that he is also surrounded by other spiritual beings, where he can train himself to perceive other entities besides himself and his fellow human beings. Especially in the case of the heating plant of the Goetheanum in Dornach, built in 1914 according to Rudolf Steiner’s designs, it can be noticed that it is not about a reflection of human individuality, but about the expression of another quality of the spiritual. From this point of view, the Goetheanum and the surrounding buildings by Rudolf Steiner can be seen as a kind of colony of different Beings connected with each other.

Something similar can be said about the railway station of the Saint-Exupéry airport in Lyon (1989-1994) by Santiago Calatrava. There is also something of a non-human nature to experience, without wanting to judge whether it is good or bad. Nevertheless, one can feel directly that something that lies outside his humanity is coming towards the observer. In connection with the building task, this can also be an expression of the essence of a community, e.g. the essence of a school. This attitude can not only appear in the main design of a building, but also in details, such as in the railway station mentioned above, where many elements speak of a quality thorugh which people are constantly confronted with different entities, e.g. through the finishing elements of the stair railings. The interesting thing is that in recent years these aspects have become more and more widespread even among architects who did not strive for it from the beginning.

I think this phenomenon has to do with the fact that the spirit of the time is being felt more and more strongly by architects and people in general today. This is happening because of the development we have gone through in the last century and also in connection with what Rudolf Steiner described as the “crossing of the threshold” of the spiritual world for all humanity at the beginning of the 20th century. This is a process that is becoming stronger and stronger with time. But one also notices that without sufficient awareness of the true needs of mankind, this feeling of the spirit of the age shows itself or embodies itself in a form that is not always conducive to man. One has the need to perceive something individual-spiritual, but this takes on all kinds of forms, all kinds of qualities, which are also random or wild (as for example in the interior of the DZ Bank on Pariserplatz in Berlin by Frank Gehry). Last but not least, there can also be harmful effects if this spiritual quality is not consciously grasped.

Besides many examples of dynamic projects by Gehry, Foster or Zaha Hadid, we see an increasingly strong hardening in architecture, where the focus is rather on materialistic functionality and the purity of forms. Much of what is built today, especially in Central Europe, is characterised by a strong feeling of death, even in the choice of materials (mostly steel, concrete and glass) and colours (preferably grey, white or brown). This tendency is based on a world view that sees the development of technology as the main feature and essential cultural factor of our time. Even Le Corbusier was enthusiastic about the aesthetics of the machine at the beginning of the 20th century and called his designs for houses “machines for living”, thus pointing in a direction that gradually leads to the exclusion of all living qualities from architecture. In my opinion, this is the expression of a great fear in the human souls of the spiritual and of the unpredictable.

This kind of architecture has also exerted a certain influence on organic architects, whether for economic reasons, or because of the regulations that do not allow anything else (which is indeed the case in many occasions), or because one simply wants to adapt to what is considered modern in the world. Certainly, an interest for the tendencies that live in our time is necessary, but together with this serious preoccupation, one needs a living and conscious relationship with the essence of the spirit of time in order not to fall into one of the extremes and in order to be able to contribute something positive. That is why I wanted to show that for me this aspect is quite essential for the further development of human beings.

          Published in M+A, 8/2009