Architecture and mental disorders...

 

I read recently claims by Ann Sussman and Katie Chen (2017) that the modern architecture movement was a by-product of practitioners suffering from various mental disorders – that the designs of key influencers were driven by autism and post-traumatic stress disorder.  Specifically, they refer to Anthony Daniels and Nicholas Fox Weber’s diagnosis of Le Corbusier with autism and an assumption that since Walter Gropius and Mies van der Rohe both saw atrocities in the first world war that they suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder.  This caught my attention as it seemed logical that the way architects think and experience the world will influence how they design for the world; however, reading between the lines their contention is provocative and suggests that the works of these modern masters are somewhat defective and born from defective thinking. The idea, as Anderson (2018) tongue-in-cheekily describes as form following dysfunction, paraphrasing or bastardizing the modern axiom of Louis Sullivan (form ever follows function), needs exploration.

Le Corbusier Photo: Courtesy © 1999 Artists Rights Society (ARS). New York/ADAGP, Paris/FLC  https://www.architecturaldigest.com/gallery/lecorbusier-slideshow-122007

 

Gropius Photo: N.d. Eric Hartmann. Magnum Photos https://www.britannica.com/biography/Walter-Gropius

I wanted to understand this… if I am autistic or suffered past traumas are my designs defective?  I recalled a design project I failed at university.  The brief was to design a house as self-reflection – illustrated via a simple card model that should speak for itself.  I designed an inward facing house, with few windows to the building exterior – no relation to the outside world, with some strategically placed narrow windows that would allow me to observe the neighbourhood but not allow anyone to look in.  In contrast the centre of the house was a courtyard fully open to nature with full-height glass and a single tree planted.  It was simple, controlled, but allowed the experience of nature and solitude.  Students were asked to leave the card models on a table for assessment and not given the opportunity to advocate their designs … the FAIL was a revelation.  It taught me the importance of design communication; it also taught me that the neurotypical world can be tough for the neurodiverse.  It taught me that if I want to pass my course and succeed as an architect, I must copy what everyone else was doing – to fit in with society’s definition of good architecture.  To be on trend (urgh…). What it should have taught me was that I should be true to myself and accept that not everyone will get my designs and that’s okay.

Le Corbusier and autism…

My first comment, and I want to get this out of the way and make it very clear as it is important, is that the majority of autistic people would object to autism being called a disorder, regardless of what the DSM5 says.  It is offensive, and it is not helpful.  We are all human and we all exist on a spectrum, both neurotypical and neurodiverse.  The neurotypical are the vast majority, but this should not give them the right to say that the minority have a disorder just because they different.  If this was the case autistic people could argue that the neurotypical population had a disorder because they were equally different. Disorder, as a word, is value-laden and permits judgment.  It suggests a person with a disorder is sub-par, less than average, not normal or defective.  It suggests that the work that autistic people do, in any field of endeavour, is defective.  It appears autism is used as another reason to denounce and criticise modernism.

Villa Savoye by Le Corbusier Photo: 2016 https://selo-uk.com/influential-architects-20th-century-le-corbusier/

 Modernism, as an architectural style, is characterised by simplicity of form and materiality.  Le Corbusier wrote extensively; his five points of architecture manifesto included pilotis; free plan; free façade; horizontal windows and roof gardens as key design elements – each point having a solid rationale behind it.  Gone was excessive ornamentation.  Sussman and Chen (2017) argue that this is because autistic people cannot cope with “visual overload” or hyperarousal – this is not a strong argument, and I base this on my own personal experience as an autistic architect – who loves the simplicity of modernism but equally loves the intricate nature of many period-buildings that came before.  Le Corbusier, along with many others such as the futurists, constructivists, rationalists, fascists and those designing in the art deco style, understood and respected the past but ultimately looked to the future rather than the past for inspiration.  There was a desire to streamline and be machine-like; there was a desire to leave behind excessive bourgeoise decoration.  There was a need to rebuild cities destroyed by years of war, and a need to rehouse people moving from rural to urban areas.  It is far too simplistic to put all of this on autism.  It is the message that is conveyed by architecture that is important and the observer must ask what is the building trying to say.  What was Le Corbusier trying to communicate with his architecture?  Buildings can be considered as signs, they communicate – a form of semiotics.  This is not new; the ancient Greeks used various columns such as the masculine Doric or feminine Corinthian in a considered manner… and, let’s not forget that the Greeks borrowed from the Egyptians who likely borrowed from the Etruscans and so on so the original message may have been lost.  Reinterpreted in the classical revival style Doric columns would symbolize unity and order; Corinthian columns would be more appropriate for welcoming public buildings.  With modernism we are communicating a new order, a new way of living.  This has nothing to do with autism.  For the record, autistic people often struggle with communication – they like precise definitions and unambiguity, which are the antithesis of modern architecture.

Le Corbusier lived a simple austere life and as Anderson (2018) says, “dreamed of a life without obstruction, distraction or clutter.”  He was nearly a century ahead of Marie Kondo and today would be considered a minimalist and live in a tiny-house… and as a master of self-promotion he would probably have his own reality show and YouTube channel.  He would advocate for quality housing for all and efficient cities; he understood what people needed – sun, space, trees – and had a vision that even with high-density living these elements could be achieved. He had empathy; interestingly the common misconception is that autistic people lack empathy. 

There’s no way of proving Le Corbusier was autistic… and does it matter anyway? It is less important that his works be considered the by-product of an autistic mind; it is more important that the record is corrected to say that criticism of modernism is not warranted on the basis of it having been created by a defective autistic mind.

Walter Gropius and Ludwig Mies van der Rohe and post-traumatic stress disorder…

We can understand that Gropius would suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder – the atrocities of the first world war would not be forgotten by anyone who had experienced it, particularly those that saw action on the battle front.  However, it seems a long bow to draw to suggest that he designed his own home like a pill box as a result.  If you actually look at his house you will see there are many windows and the house would have been light inside – perfect for his extensive art collection.  Occupants would have a choice of views, in all directions.  The distinction between private and public space is carefully curated by window placement, with views to the private gardens extensive, and views from the street guarded.  You see this in home design today in 2021 – and it has nothing to do with post-traumatic stress disorder.

Gropius House – Living room and dining room by Walter Gropius  Photo: N.d. https://www.architecturaldigest.in/content/iconic-house-gropius-house-architect-walter-gropius-iconic/

We can also understand that whilst van der Rohe did not see action he would have still been greatly influenced by the atrocities of war and may have suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. However, Sussman and Chen don’t provide any examples of how van der Rohe’s PTSD influenced his architecture. His body of work, which includes the Lange and Esters House, Barcelona Pavilion and Farnsworth House, all with open planning and extensive use of glass, bare none of the feature you would expect of a pill box, if this is considered the typical design response for someone damaged by war.  Perhaps, ironically, van der Rohe’s work was the result of his ability to conquer his demons, evidence that he has worked through his issues – which is the opposite of Sussman and Chen’s argument.

Farnsworth House by Mies van der Rohe Photo: N.d. https://farnsworthhouse.org/about/

I feel compelled to advocate for autistic people and sufferers of post-traumatic stress disorder; when I read statements like “It all makes a great deal of sense… people who are relationally compromised can’t come up with an architecture that promotes relationships.” This language is divisive and offensive.  I believe Sussman and Chen should reconsider their position – those that have suffered from trauma, those that struggle with relationships through autism, are acutely aware and sensitive and might actually make better architecture as a consequence of their lived-experience.

Sussman and Chen have raised an interesting hypothesis and should be thanked for drawing attention to the relationship between ways of thinking and ways of designing; however, the discussion could be less divisive and less offensive and acknowledge the great contribution of the autistic community to society through advances in design. It is not sufficient to reduce the rationale for the modern movement in architecture to mental disorders, and ultimately is damaging to those that are suffering from these disorders as it perpetuates myths and stereotypes and reinforces beliefs that people with mental disorders cannot make a great contribution to society.

References

Anderson, Darran. “The Perils of Diagnosing Modernists.” Bloomberg, January 25, 2018. https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2018-01-25/what-s-the-point-in-trying-to-diagnose-le-corbusier-and-gropius

Sussman, Ann and Chen, Katie. “The mental disorders that gave us modern architecture.” Commonedge, August 22, 2017.  https://commonedge.org/the-mental-disorders-that-gave-us-modern-architecture/