The Construction of Drawings and Movies: Models for Architectural Design and Analysis

266 Pages·2012·6.43 MB·English

by  Thomas Forget

The Construction of Drawings and Movies

The Construction of Drawings and Movies
Models for Architectural Design and Analysis
Thomas Forget
First published 2013
by Routledge
711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017
Simultaneously published in the UK
by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2013 Taylor & Francis
The right of Thomas Forget to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in
accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any
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Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
A catalog record for this book has been requested
ISBN: 978-0-415-89839-3 (hbk)
ISBN: 978-0-415-89840-9 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-0-203-10013-4 (ebk)
Publisher’s Note
This book has been prepared from camera-ready copy provided by the author.
for my mother and father
Thus, I ask of absurd creation what I required from thought—revolt, freedom,
and diversity. Later on it will manifest its utter futility. In that daily effort in which
intelligence and passion mingle and delight each other, the absurd man discovers
a discipline that will make up the greatest of his strengths. The required diligence,
the doggedness and lucidity thus resemble the conqueror’s attitude. To create is
likewise to give shape to one’s fate. For all these characters, their work defines them
at least as much as it is defined by them. The actor taught us this: there is no frontier
between being and appearing.
Albert Camus, “The Myth of Sisyphus”
Preface ix
INTRODUCTION: Analytical and Pictorial Imagery 1
PART I—CONSTRUCTION LOGIC
1 The Demystification of Linear Perspective 21
2 The Making of a Movie 81
PART II—MATTERS OF HISTORY
3 The Non-linear Progression of Linear Perspective 121
4 The Extents (and Limits) of Architecture–Cinema 167
PART III—INDETERMINATE PROJECTIONS
5 Architectural Drawings 205
6 Architectural Movies 223
EPILOGUE: The Reflexivity of Architecture and Projection 247
Notes and Credits 250

Index 258
Preface
For many years, I considered linear perspective and cinema to be parallel
interests. The former figured prominently in my teaching, and the latter operated
both as a research topic and as an amateur hobby. This book explores points of
intersection between the two modes of imagery. The potential reciprocity between
linear perspective and cinema first occurred to me during the production of a video
analysis of San Francisco. As I shot the inclined streetscapes of that city, I realized
that my compositional strategies were indebted to my understanding of architectural
drawing. I sought shots that evoked plans, sections, elevations, and (especially)
perspectives. In 2009, I developed a research seminar on architectural projection at
the University of North Carolina at Charlotte, and my main objective was to determine
the extent to which linear perspective and cinema complement each other, both
practically and theoretically. I was unconvinced that the inquiry would continue for
more than a semester, but it evolved into more research courses and infiltrated my
studio teaching as well. Readers will likely recognize the dual influences that inform
this book (research and design), as I have sought to honor the dialogue between
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thinking and making that led both to its inception and to its development. This book
may operate both as a studio companion and as a selective survey of important
historical and theoretical concerns related to architectural imagery.
My interest in movies first emerged during my junior year abroad in Paris during the
1990–1991 academic year. The small cinemas in the Latin Quarter, which screen
films from various genres and cinema cultures, seduced me into questioning my
lifelong commitment to becoming an architect. Meanwhile, the Grands Projets of
Francois Mitterand in Paris (the pyramid at the Louvre, Parc de la Villette, Opéra de
Bastille, Arche de la Défense, et cetera) simply could not compete with the moving
images that were flicking deep within the vernacular fabric of the city. Adding to the
romance, the early 1990s was an era of intense creativity in American independent
cinema, and cutting edge moviemakers such as Hal Hartley, Steven Soderberg,
and the Coen Brothers seemed far more relevant to me than so-called avant-garde
architects such as Zaha Hadid, Frank Gehry, and Bernard Tschumi. Instead of
proceeding directly to a professional education in architecture, I entered a masters
program in architectural history and theory in order to sort out my understanding
of the relationship between architecture and cinema (and ultimately to decide
whether to pursue a career in architecture or moviemaking). I wrote on the topic in a
manner that did not adhere to (and, in fact, argued against) conventional notions of
cinematic architecture, and I believed that my thesis might provide a starting point
for an innovative design career. My analysis of cinema focused on structural, as
opposed to phenomenological or narrative, aspects of the medium, and I understood
architectural design and moviemaking as analogous ways to organize space and
time. After I earned a professional degree in architecture, however, movies became
a marginal influence on my work, as I resisted any use of cinema as a literal model
of architectural and urban design. I had begun to make movies about cities and
infrastructure, but these activities were adjacent to my work as a designer, not
integral to it. The interest that had begun in Paris seemed to have run its course.
The research that I began in 2009 was a last ditch effort to integrate cinema into the
trajectory of my career, and the pairing of linear perspective and cinema has revived
my belief that movies are relevant to architectural discourse in ways that have not
yet been explored. Once I understood the inherent abstraction of linear perspective,
I was better able to understand the inherent abstraction of cinema. This book argues
that both modes of imagery, despite their experiential immediacy, are untapped
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resources of analytical inquiry into the nature of the built environment. I owe these
recent developments to many people, only a few of whom I am able to mention here.
My advisors and colleagues at Yale University between 1993 and 1995, especially
Eeva-Liisa Pelkonen, Alan Plattus, and Peter Soland, were the first to encourage
me to nurture a budding interest in cinema that I could have easily discarded. My
advisors and colleagues at Princeton University between 1995 and 1998, especially
Christine Boyer, Nasrine Seraji, and Jonathan F. Bell, further supported my attempts
to question the relevance of cinema to the design process. I owe my fascination with
linear perspective to my first teaching position at Roger Williams University, where
my colleagues selflessly taught me how to teach design and selfishly allowed me to
take control of the instruction of linear perspective. I cannot overstate my gratitude to
them, especially Maurico Barretto and Julia Bernert. Two former colleagues from New
Jersey Institute of Technology, Silva Ajemian and Jorge Prado, have become regular
partners in crime, and their critical and passionate minds infiltrate all aspects of my
work in ways that are impossible to quantify. Kate Shepherd, a close friend and artist
in New York City, has helped me to appreciate the power of lines and the rigor of
drawing. Charles Silver, curator at the Department of Film at the Museum of Modern
Art, and the programmers at Anthology Film Archives have exposed me to movies
that have revolutionized how I understand the medium of cinema. Others who have
helped me in less obvious ways include Kristi Dykema Cheramie, Nick Senske, Mark
Thorsby, Malcolm Harris, and Rebeca Plank.
My colleagues and students at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte have
provided me with a stimulating and encouraging environment in which to grow as
a teacher and a researcher. Few schools would have provided me with the support
necessary to develop this book so quickly. I owe a special debt of gratitude to the
students with whom I developed the processes and ideas that led to this book. Their
curiosity and challenging questions inspired me to continue my inquiry.
One of my former colleagues, Kerrick Johnson, deserves special note. He helped me to
develop my initial interest in linear perspective, and he has informed my inquiries into drawing
and cinema in profound ways. He has taught me not only facts, but also methods and habits,
and he has been, by far, my most consequential academic advisor. We have discussed nearly
every idea in this book, and our agreements and disagreements have been memorable and
invaluable.
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