Disability as architectural criticism — Yale/Rudolph

In 1996 a former architectural history professor of mine at Columbia asked me how I enjoyed being a student at the Yale School of Architecture, particularly how I enjoyed being an inhabitant of Paul Rudolph’s Architecture + Art Building. Like virtually all students who have been in that building, I think the building is an extraordinary feat of design and construction; The building was just renovated, expanded and renamed, and I can’t wait to see it.

But as a disabled person my relationship to that building was peculiar, to say the least. It’s not just that the building is set over many levels, and many levels on one floor. Navigating the interior spaces and the multiple floor changes and stairs was a pain. The “floating stairs” everywhere, particularly in the entryway leading to the building’s foyer, were particularly difficult to negotiate. What seemed like comedy to my friends, but really just a huge nuisance to me, was, my former professor argued, an avenue to architectural criticism. “You should write about it”, she said, and now more than ten years later I am.

But it’s not just the Rudolph building; I have literally rolled (in a wheelchair), limped and crutched in many “masterworks” of modern architecture. Here is my not-so-brilliant critical assessment of disability in architecture: Anything that claims to have been inspired by some type of architectural heroism or any building in which someone might describe the architect as “heroic” (as is virtually always the case with this particular work by Rudolph) will generally impart a bumpy ride for the disabled inhabitant. If I start an architectural tour and someone mentions one of these concepts as the inspiration behind the building, I generally brace myself for the inevitably intense walking experience. 

And this is no accident. The Romanticist theory that lurks behind the concept of a heroic architecture contains a strong masochistic streak. After all, the Romanticist writers who inspired the call to “experience” and “heroics” in the late 18th and 19th century were people who wrote about the intense effects of tuberculosis, war and other horrific assaults on the body.  In acknowledging this, we should seriously consider how many war-time and post-war-time architectural practices  (Civil, Spanish American, WWI, WWII, Korean, think also Jameson/Vietnman/Bonaventure) often unleash spaces in which the body appears to be pressed to some type of physical limit – pressed, one might argue, into the position of hero. As I recall, it was the historian of Rudolph, Timothy Rohan, who acknowledged a hyper-masculine and masochistic tenor to the spatial and material treatments of the Yale Architecture School. The space was about many things, including Rudolph overcoming his own subjectivity as a closeted homosexual man. But this heroic overcoming, articulated by Rohan, is certainly imparted to many of those (not just Rudolph) who navigate this space.

 

But to address my teacher’s call for “disability criticism,” I do not think the very act of struggling to move through a building can be read as an act of critique in and of itself. Do the struggles of a disabled person ever read as architectural criticism? The “failures” of the body/space interaction here always falls back either on the “disabled” person or the “larger social” milieu in which disability appears. The disabled cannot seem to speak through disability against particular theories of architecture.  What is demanded here is something that we might term “performance critique” where the interface between disability and space is continuously repeated to uncover the ideas I mentioned above. That is, through repetitive performance we see disability as an idea designed to be overcome in those spaces that appear inherently “insensitive”. In the case above, by demanding repetition, we uncover the hidden image of overcoming the “lesser body” that I really believe moves through the heroic theory of architecture.

 

To make all of this visible I will make sure to have a friend shoot some video of me climbing those steps – as many times as I can. And if I can do it without limping too much I will give myself a medal as an ironic, heroic critic of the Yale Architecture Building.

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  1. If I’m ever there I’ll wheel down the steps and video, it in honor of this awesome post!

  2. Interesting criticism.
    I am myself am not disabled unless you expand the definition of that word to include a middle-aged, fat guy with bad-knees; but since I have done more than my share of international travel I have endured more than my share of heroic architecture.
    I actually wanted to concentrate my comments on heroic town-planning and landscape architecture. There seems to be something in the size of an empire, the size of a country’s military and the nearness to political power that brings out the grandiose in town planning.
    Cities that simply have plenty of money and people create wonderful walking streets like those in Lower Manhattan, great shopping districts like the street fairs of London or the wonderful lake-side beaches in Chicago.
    Yet in power capital cities like Delhi, Paris and Washington, wide streets were slashed through ancient neighbourhoods in a bid for heroic architecture.
    In the best-designed cases — such as Paris or Moscow — the wide vistas of the local Champs Elysee or Red Square can be negotiated with a generous subway system. (Unfortunately not much chance of finding elevator access).
    I think that the connection between heroic architecture and heroic town planning is the need to make statement. When things are simply made livable for human beings then the results are much more comfortable.

  3. dlgissen

    To Badgerbag: thanks for the kind words–really appreciated; but really, don’t do anything rash. If you hurt yourself the emergency rooms in New Haven are creepy. You’ll regret your brave act of critique. Plus, I’ll lose a fan!

    To Gregory: You bring up some great points. There is a great piece by Nancy Forgione in a 2005 issue of Art Bulletin that briefly discusses the image of the maimed war veterans that moved through Hausmann’s Parisian boulevards. There are more connections here that could be made. As for livability, that’s a topic where we should all fight it out — demanding an expression of our different ideas regarding what livability might mean.

    Thank you all for reading and commenting

  4. Adebayo Euba

    this is to an extent a revelation and education. am an architect in training and would need your help in getting materials concerning this topic. DISABILITY AND ARCHITECTURE. it would really be a nice thing if you would help me out with my dissertation work here in Obafemi Awolowo University Ile-Ife Nigeria. i await your reply. thank you and God bless you

  1. 1 Disability and Architecture « (Dis)ability in America

    […] Disability and Architecture 8 10 2008 David Gissen has an amazing post about his relationship as a disabled person to buildings, especially Paul Rudolph’s brand of “heroic architecture.” […]




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