Painting and Architecture’s Common Ground

One commonality between art and architecture is that they both project an effect of beauty, and in both disciplines, this beauty can be divided into a literal representation and an abstract argument of aesthetics (Greenberg, 1961). In the representational model, a work of art or architecture’s innate beauty depends on the spectator’s pre-determined perception of the world, such as the bodily beauty of Titian’s Venus or Gilpin’s picturesque landscape. Although the spectators think their aesthetic choice is personal, it is far from autonomous since it relies on the spectator’s consumption of the universal signs of aesthetics within the depicted subject, perpetuated by social constructs. In this model, since both painting and architecture are iconographic representations of a real-world object, they became wholly separated language systems. For example, construction documentation or a realistic render is equivalent to the building itself. The visualisation and the building form a closed system where the relationship between signified and signifier is fixed and hierarchical; foreign mediums cannot penetrate it without significant transformation. The incompatibility between the painting and architecture results in the inevitable bias over one set of language over the other. The domination of architecture over painting is symptomatic in Zaha Hadid’s architecture paintings. In her MAXXI project, paintings were treated as an alternative medium of drawing. This craftiness is demonstrated through painting’s literal adaptation of architecture’s traditional plan drawing and ariel site view; thus, painting became the carrier of the physical reality, an object and nothing more.     By prioritising the architecture, or more precisely, the building, Hadid wilfully sacrificed painting’s artistic pursuit, thus producing little tension between the two practices. By assuming architecture’s dominant position over painting, Hadid’s painting lost its spontaneity and contingency towards the real world and was replaced with the preconceived maxim of her design. Jacques Derrida critiqued this binary mode of thinking in his works on deconstruction, the problem of unconsciously prioritising one concept over the other, which ultimately resulted in a subjective and irrational choice; instead, he suggested seeing the incompatibility between topics, painting and architecture, with the attitude of ‘there is nothing but a relation of homonymy’, and the common ground could be found in between the impossibilities (Lawlor, 2006).

In the argumentative aesthetic model, artwork or architecture establishes an internal system of signs that operate independently from the external world. Within the system, Ferdinand de Saussure argues, meanings are derived from ‘the relation between units’; therefore, the status of the graphic signifier and the ideational signified became fluid (Dickerman, 2012). Rosalind Krauss later further suggests in such condition the ‘signs circulating without a convertible base in the world of nature’ (Krauss, 1998); hence, it allows the painting to illustrate architecture without considering the physical experience of a building, while spectators can only grasp its meaning through a process of contemplation, concentration and critique. However, if the argumentative method is applied to its extreme, it can also stifle painting’s effectiveness as architectural discourse, evident in Will Alsop’s painting practice. His paintings prioritised artistic characteristics, reflected in his translation, or the lack thereof, from painting to architecture. Alsop’s paintings often extrapolate fragments of architectural or social phenomena and present it as a priori concept; hence, such a unilateral approach has dissolved his painting’s relationality towards building and space. Therefore, his painting’s contribution to architecture mainly remained as superficial facadism, an addition to the otherwise unrelated architectural forms, an aestheticisation of the building.

In order to situate painting as a critical practice within architecture, the two modes of aesthetic expression are often used simultaneously. However, it first needs to overcome the two disciplines’ ontological contradictions. First, compared to the corporal experience necessary when examining architecture’s aesthetic, painting’s primary aesthetic concern as an artistic project lies in the visual experience. The second contradiction of painting in architecture is its dual goals of satisfying the functionality and social obligation of the space it is depicting, at the same time posit to be self-reflective, generating critical thinking as an independent medium. Here, I argue that both contradictions can trace back to a singular common ground, where evaluation and critique of painting in architecture become the project itself. First, using Derrida’s deconstruction as a guide to separate the concept of building, architecture, and painting, then through Walter Benjamin’s investigation on allegory, ruins, and dialectical image to establish an interdisciplinary dialogue.

If architecture is analogical to the text, it is only meaningful amongst the system of architectural signs and concepts; thus, building only exists metaphorically between symbols. Suppose we apply Derrida’s argument that ‘there is nothing outside the text’ architecturally. In that case, it can be argued that architecture should neither be tied to nor subservient of its physical counterpart but rather a different presence altogether (Derrida, 1976). At the same time, this does not exclude the possibility of architecture manifesting into physical forms. Derrida’s deconstructive logic can be similarly applied to contemporary art’s relational characteristic; a painting contains an infinite possible interpretation when severed from the specific social phenomenon or objects the painting was indexical of. When painting and architecture no longer have a physical, spatial or even conceptual referent, they could assign new meanings within a different field of practice, circumventing the contradiction brought on by their different modes of representations and functional responsibilities. Or, to put it another way, the post-structuralism’s mode of practice does not abandon two medium’s existing distinctions but simply accept the infinite alternative modes of understanding from the viewpoint of their opposition. Therefore, to read a painting architecturally, one needs first to reject the notion that painting represents a physical manifestation. The viability of architecture as a creative discipline is rested upon its ability to be represented and signified by other mediums. Art’s relationship with the built environment is hence mediated by architecture because its relationship with both fields is malleable, and as what Moriarty concluded: ‘Without foundation, the ground of exchange became the ground as exchange (Moriarty, 1994). The state of limbo both architecture and painting occupies is also where the dialogue and discourse between the two disciplines take place.

If Derrida’s deconstructive method nullifies the two contradictions, then, through the lens of Walter Benjamin, it is precisely the contradiction capable of establishing painting as a generative practice in architecture. The union of painting and architecture is the perfect echo of Benjamin’s ‘dialectical image’. In ‘Arcades Project’, Benjamin explained that the Parisian arcade was emblematic of the future perfect relationship, ‘the relation of what has-been to the now is dialectical: is not progression but image, suddenly emergent’ (Benjamin, 1999). In order to establish the dialectical relationship, we first need to dissect architecture as an allegorical image. The myth of architecture as an autonomous practice can be seen as ruins, similar to the classical symbol in arcades has been exposed as a ‘false totality’ (Lipton, 2016). This ruination is because architecture has never been genuinely autonomous nor represented any spatial truth; its meaning has always been bonded to the socio-political context and constructed by fragments of knowledge from other disciplines. Therefore, architecture can be perceived as a montage of amorphous fragments. In contrast, contemporary painting’s relational and aesthetic pursuits were synthesised into a unified artistic project of self-expression. As the antithesis to architecture’s fragmentation, the montage of painting with architecture completed Benjamin’s dialectical image. Buck Morss further elaborated that the ‘montage techniques operate to switch two sets of signifiers–signified relationships in order to question dominant ideologies’ (Moriarty, 1994). Painting provided a chance for the reversal of architecture’s role from the signifier to the signified. By inserting painting into architecture, it also instigated a temporal shift. Reflecting on Derrida’s remark ‘From the standpoint of the future perfect, “what will have been” sees the building both as completed structure and as ruin, already created and fallen in the moment of its conceptualisation from a projected future’ (Moriarty, 1994). Paintings depicting architecture concepts can be analysed as architecture’s future ruins; what was once a physical fact became fluid, what was once a singularity became ambiguous and multiplicated in meanings.

To further explore painting as an architecture critique, I am turning towards Walter Benjamin’s concept of aura. In his book ‘The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction’, he characterised the complex and ephemeral relationship between a work of art and its historical context, the unique experience of art at its current-ness as well as the relationship between the maker and the audience as ‘aura’, or as Benjamin said, ‘Its presence in time and space, its unique existence at the place where it happens to be’ (Benjamin, 2008). Benjamin argued that if the originality of any work of art is tied to this ‘aura’, then, when an artwork can be standardised and reproduced infinitely, it alters the public’s perception of the authenticity and originality of the work, while similarly putting the artist’s authorship into question. While digital architecture and architectural paintings are forms of paper architecture, they cast different effects on the discipline’s mode of practice. Although painting cannot transmit architecture accurately, its idiosyncrasy and ambiguity reflect an alternative aura which Peter Eisenman characterised as ‘a third condition of betweenness’ (Eisenman, 1990).  In contrast, digital architecture can be reproduced with an infinite quantity and accuracy; however, architects will lose their creative agency and authority to the external political and social forces.

The serialising character of digital architecture offers architects a modular language while mainly aiming to generate distraction and mass consumption. Mass-produced architecture is easily utilised as a commodity, while in contrast, architectural painting offers a contemplative calm. A digital representation is about communicating with clients, while an architectural painting is an attempt at self-expression. This idiosyncratic quality perfectly positions painting as suitable for extrapolating a more critical and even objective critique on architecture. This is due to first, unlike other contemporary mediums of art rely on the amalgamation of information and sensory overload to achieve their aesthetic objective, painting still requires contemplation and a critical distance for it to be understood; second, by reflecting upon painting’s idiosyncratic position, it can redirect spectators from a state of absorption to reflection. When architects became artists, their architecture could then be liberated from its architect.

Case Study- Zaha Hadid

As architecture continually turned towards its digital production and practice mode, Zaha Hadid’s architecture has been firmly grounded in her earlier paintings and drawings. Hadid’s architecture is defined by its dynamic, temperamental, and transient compositional codes, and this design tendency is exemplified through her similarly theatrical paintings. Her paintings, rooted within the nexus of modernist and avant-garde predecessors, transcended their mediums into physical reality while preserving their outrageousness and transgression against the orthodoxy of physics and architectural norms. This translation between Hadid’s painting and architecture is not restricted to a linear iterative process or even to a particular project. Since Hadid’s paintings themselves are idiosyncratic contemporary art, it is easy to perceive them as what Agnieszka Micka called an ‘aestheticisation’ (Micka, 2007) of architecture or, as I suggested in my background research, as mere forms of representation. This essay will demonstrate that Hadid’s painting occupies a much larger scope within the development of her architectural language. Within one project, Hadid’s painting can both be seen as her building’s conceptual precursor, investigating the building’s tectonics and their movement of space. At the same time, the painting illustrates the experience, emotion, and articulation to the viewers; thus, the painting is the architecture. The influence of Hadid’s earlier paintings is still relevant to her later work as they are being reinterpreted into new forms; even with the passing of Zaha Hadid, her architectural legacy is equally carried out by her building as well as her paintings. This essay will examine the link between Hadid’s converging art and architecture practice through her MAXXI Museum and its drawings.

As pointed out by Edwin Heathcote, Hadid ‘may be a radical architect’ but her forms ‘have their roots in history’ (Heathcote, 2010).  The historical precedents referred to here are predominantly suprematism of the Russian Avant-Garde, which Malevich inaugurated with his “The Last Futurist Exhibition of Paintings 0.10” between 1915 and 1916. Inspired by the early 20th century’s non-Euclidean logic and new technological innovations (especially ariel photography), Malevich stepped away from cubism and conceived a new model of objectless painting. This autonomous art rejects external referents such as visual mimicry as well as perspectival and figure-ground composition. According to Ferdinand de Saussure’s semiotic theory, painting can be seen as a system of signs, where its meaning is arbitrary and derived from ‘the relationship between each unit’ (Dickerman, 2012). Therefore, Malevich’s compositions are ‘signs circulating without a convertible base’ to the material reality (Krauss, 1998); hence this ambiguity can be simultaneously read as architectural tectonic or an allegory of modernity. Above all, Malevich’s suprematist paintings are sensational, and they provoke unmediated raw emotions as spectators grasp the kinetic energies emanating from each component’s suggestive motion and their floating effect against the heavily textured white background.

Malevich’s modernist tendencies- his planarity and flatness- are shared in Hadid’s earliest paintings from “Malevich’s Tektonik” to “The Peak” between 1976 to the early 1980s. During this period, both her painting and architecture were heavily restricted by the planarity of the pictorial plane and the desire for visual continuity between ground and architectural objects. For example, her “Parc de la Villette” painting relied heavily on its steep vanishing point and overwhelming amalgamation of details to project a thrusting sensation and visual complexity. Hence, this stability between painted components translates to spatial certainty in architecture, and the binary mode representation offers little alternative interpretation between canvas and structure. In this instance, the dynamism and gravity-defying tectonics Hadid is famous for are yet to be discovered, while her paintings gravitate more towards depicting the imaginary reality.

The turning point of Hadid’s pictorial innovation is arguably started with her painting “The World”. In contrast to her previous painting’s orthogonal composition, “the World” appears to be warping and floating in space; multiple planes are superimposed onto each other yet are intimately in dialogue through a unified linguistic code based on colour and shape. The picture plane simultaneously extends beyond the frame and abruptly slates off. The white and black background contains an almost Cezanneian ambiguity, both in the foreground and as the subject’s background. The use of serval perspective signalled the departure of Hadid from Malevich’s modernism and her embracing the painting as a ‘typology…fundamentally malleable, elastic framework’ (Steele, 2017). The painting simultaneously addresses the spectator with its momentum rushing out of the canvas, occupying space with its sensation rather than its image alone. Although “The World” is an archive of Hadid’s previous designs, the conscious choice of juxtaposing and distorting them gave birth to a new architecture language, one where Hadid rejects gravity and modernist’s rigid formal attributes. Since her painting is no longer static, it became experimentation rather than representation and allowed iterative development for her later paintings.

After “The World”, Hadid’s paintings are characteristic of their juxtaposition of planes and perspectives, perception of movement, non-representational forms, and dynamic energy. She successfully translates her pictorial language into architecture, generates structures full of tension, contradiction, and surprises. In “The World”, architecture and its surroundings are immersed into one entity, in constant dialogue and only distinguishable by the different concentration of details, thus constructing a fluid relationship between form and content (Schumacher, 2005) and critically situating building in its environment.

The correlation between Hadid’s painting and architecture are reciprocal and responsive, especially in the case of MAXXI. There are four paintings produced regarding MAXXI; painting one contains both the museum itself and its surroundings, painting two to four are exclusive to the museum’s architecture. All four paintings share the same compositional code and are all monochromatic with lighter colours representing structures against the black background, and this colour scheme is also adopted in the complete building. Since all four paintings closely resemble MAXXI basic form and flow of space yet are wholly devoid of direct reference to architecture’s materiality, Hadid’s paintings are more analytical than representational and likely to be conceived as part of the building’s design development. In painting one, Hadid continued using her signature superimposition as a method of dialogue between form and context. While the ground plane adopted a curvilinear profile (from its three points of perspective), the superimposed white strips maintained a more linear perspective. Originating beyond its landscape backdrop, the white strips become translucent and gradually melt into the cityscape as they overlap. This seamless transition between two pictorial planes corresponds to Hadid’s ‘urban graft’ concept (Hadid, 2009). The architecture assimilates into the urban fabric, and its structure ascends as the site’s ‘second skin’. The illuminated white intersecting planes situated in the middle of the canvas are the most literal representation of MAXXI in all her paintings. The stark tonal contrast with its surroundings immediately identifies its importance as the only icon within paintings self-contained visual language. Therefore, this painting adopted an indexical role, a base of reference amid their formal arbitrariness. The painting’s background is similarly a minimalistic representation of Rome’s ariel view; however, the shift in Tiber River and the nearby hill’s perspective flattens the image, introducing a sense of spatial instability reflecting Hadid’s concept of ‘drift’. The architecture in this painting is well resolved compared to others; hence it is reasonable to speculate it is produced at the end of design development where a building’s form and relation with the site is thoroughly investigated.

Painting two to four are all aimed at displaying MAXXI’s spatial articulation in detail. While important in showing spectators the building in its three-dimensional form and as an abstract floor plan, the third and fourth painting lacks the complexity as paintings and is likely to serve as explanatory pieces to the second painting. The second painting adopted an orthogonal orientation, where the architecture is floating without any support nor obeying the rule of gravity, creating lightness despite the strong contrast between the subject and background, demonstrating the coexistence between the building’s monumentality and porousness. The combination of a clear overall flow of movement and localised compositional chaos is emblematic of Hadid’s transgression on architecture’s vertical and oblique circulation and program distribution. The complex network of painting’s intersecting planes represents Hadid’s desire to create a ‘field space’, where programmes and functionality of the building are fluid and governed by the direction and density of circulation. Hence, like painting’s objectless, her architecture also disinherited the object-oriented gallery space.

Looking at Hadid’s paintings retrospectively, they are sensational, yet austere and her architecture adopted the painting’s ideology inside out. From their shared ‘objectless’ to the idea of ‘field space’ derived from the painting’s apparent translucent forms to their synchronistic colour scheme, the physical reality of MAXXI is grafted directly from the paintings. In comparison to her digital modelling or traditional line drawings, she explored the intangible experience of her architecture. Her paintings are universal in terms of the emotional response they generate in the spectators. While paintings are the catalyst of architectural concepts, they are not immediately apparent without an in-depth analysis. Painting’s advantage on abstraction is simultaneously their limitation. Computer and physical modelling can be seen as filling the gaps between concept and reality, translating painterly elements into architectural drawings, helping to preserve painting’s artistic spontaneity while embracing the mundane construction and craftsmanship. The complete building’s proximity to its paintings proves Hadid and her team’s digital translation is likely a back-and-forth process, firmly grounded in the spirit of her paintings.

Case Study- Will Alsop

The British architect Will Alsop occupied both artistic and architectural practice; he maintained the independence of each discipline while the two simultaneously intertwined in his design approach. Despite his earlier encounter on the intersection of painting and architecture through Le Corbusier’s purist idioms, his practice is distinctively contemporary. Oppose to the prima facie critique in my research plan that Alsop’s painting is complacent in the trend of aesthetic transplant; he claimed that his abstractions were a profound exploration of spatial possibilities and emotional linkages between space and stakeholders. Alsop’s painting and architecture have always been in principle relational to the social phenomenon of his time, in parallel to his aesthetic and conceptual pursuits. His social agenda is closely aligned with his collaborative modus operandi demonstrated through his partnership with artist Bruce McLean. In developing his dual practices, Alsop claimed he could position himself as both an observer and participant of his architecture endeavours, extrapolating concepts from his painting’s spontaneity and open-endedness. In some instances, his pictorial ambiguity and love for happenstance are extended to the digital translation between painting and architecture. However, adopting conceptualism’s maxim of ‘idea becomes the machine that makes art’ (Schwabsky, 2019) poses the suspicion that Alsop was a ‘paper architect’ (Ruthen, 2013), evading architecture’s intellectual tradition and the reality of the built environment. His painting’s idiosyncrasy, combined with their imprecision, also raises the question of his architecture’s universality and in conflict with his position as the ‘mediator and enabler’ of inhabitant’s ‘dreams’ (Porter, 2011). Against the backdrop of both contemporary art and architecture world, Alsop’s dual modes of spatial practice perhaps are more convoluted than unified.

Unlike Le Corbusier’s emphasis on function over form, Alsop’s architecture is characteristic of the unique formal aesthetic determined mainly by his artistic practice and contemporary sensibility. In order to understand Alsop’s motive and methods of using paintings to supplement his architecture, it is essential to discuss the overarching principle of contemporary painting briefly. The term contemporary is composed of conflicting agendas, ideologies and temporalities, while shaped by the collapse of modernist institutions and globalisation (Smith, 2009). The ubiquity of conceptualism, ideology-driven art is accompanied by its unprecedented inclusion of styles and methods. Contemporary painting is no longer seeking Greenberg’s autonomy but instead produced out of our time’s political or social friction.

Therefore, as declared by Douglas Crimp that painting is ‘above all human’, it is inevitably converging with other disciplines, contingent upon the real world (Crimp, 1981). Alsop’s painting is no exception to contemporary art’s human condition. According to Tom Porter, Alsop’s initial paintings for any project were often based on extensive community consultation, depicting and interpreting the ‘dreams’ of the building’s inhabitants and architecture’s wider stakeholders. In his design for the Sharp Centre in Toronto, Alsop interpreted the community’s suggestion to preserve greenery views by elevating the structure above ground. The idea of using hovering architecture to preserve the organic flow of visuals and programs in the city is illustrated in his earlier paintings, such as the ‘City of Objects Design on Berlin’ painted in 1992. Alsop claimed the painting process granted him ‘openness’ when conceptualising architecture, leading him to investigate possibilities without a preconceived notion of space or a prediction of a building’s form.

The temporal disjuncture between his painting and his architecture signifies painting for Alsop is mainly a depository of concepts rather than tied to a specific project. Although the diversity of methods, materials and the constantly shifting styles of his paintings almost confirmed Alsop’s ideological inclusiveness, however, it is challenging to prob the accuracy of Alsop’s self-described position of objectivity. The limited objective critique available regarding Alsop’s architectural painting has suspiciously coincided with an overwhelming amount of praise, thus putting his democratic approach into question. Is his painting a mere façade to cover his retreat from authorship? Or did the canvas become the ground of deceptive exchange between public demands and Alsop’s creative ambition? Alsop’s possible false sense of objectiveness perhaps is an unconscious attitude of tokenism; by prioritising painting as a pure artist’s project, he risked approaching community engagement without confronting the innate individual bias and preconception of the world.

Following contemporary art’s conceptualism trend, Alsop’s paintings lacked legible forms while emphasising non-pictorial imagery representing intangible ideas. The paintings are often visually detached from their associated architectural outcome as the result of their ambiguousness. In Alsop’s proposal for Potsdamerplatz urban planning, his paintings could only be registered as the urban environment through the dense agglomeration of L shaped forms overlapping in chaos. Another painting for the same competition depicting Alsop’s concept of building as ‘Large table’ is completely removed from its architectural contexts; the tension between colours and textures can only be associated with the notion of a city in conjunction with the textual explanations. Although Alsop’s extremely conceptual undertaking has the potential to provide an infinite possibility, however, it risks a superficial adaptation of painterly elements onto the architecture.

Alsop’s design for the Ben Pimlott building is an example of such adaptation. The shades and lighting produced by the facade’s elements are analogical to his ‘Living Painting’ produced in collaboration with Bruce Mclean. In this case, the ‘Living Painting’ did not fundamentally affect the building’s internal circulation or program, such as in Zaha Hadid’s practice, nor provided additional theoretical innovation as seen in Denis Scott Brown and Venturi’s Postmodernist architecture. The digital translation from the painting’s photograph to a three-dimensional computer model is literal and non-transformative, resulting in the painting becoming a trope for the building’s facadism. His painting’s ambiguity has also contributed to their minimal association of any specific project and many acts as an archive for unresolved ideas. This unresolvedness aided Alsop’s quest for serendipitous interpretation and endangered his architecture’s incorporation of the social context. At the same time, Alsop has benefited from this reservoir of painterly elements and buildings such as his famous Sharp Project and Peckham Library, demonstrating a consistent utilisation of his paintings signature diverse colour schemes and playful atmosphere. The alliance between Alsop and Mclean indeed provided Alsop with an opportunity to establish an artistic practice without the constraint of the architectural orthodoxy; however, paintings produced without architectural consideration or relational to a project’s peculiarity lacks spatial authority. The distanced relationship is demonstrated in paintings such as the ‘Cultural Fog’ series, which are only capable of critiquing the conflicting relationship within the Kensington market but failed to produce architectural propositions.

In conclusion, Alsop’s painting’s ambiguous abstraction and his open-ended design approach served well as the entry point for responding to architecture’s peculiarity and complexity. The connection between Alsop’s two practices is strong, yet the relationship between specific a building and painting is distant. Alsop sacrificed the closer integration of his painting and architecture to achieve greater creative freedom in both fields.

Case Study- Reflection

Despite painting and architecture’s obvious similarities and common grounds demonstrated in both architect’s practices, Hadid and Alsop’s paintings depicted another possibility, one where art and architecture do not correlate to each other in a generative way. For Hadid, her painting’s close resemblance to her building suggests it act as a confirmation to her concepts. For Alsop, his painting’s distant pictorial relationship to his architecture suggests painting as inspiration, which can be replaced with other arts or corporeal objects, rendering painting obsolete in architecture. It is hard to deny that Hadid and Alsop’s paintings are sensational and virtuous. Yet, it is equally difficult to establish concrete evidence if their paintings embody the same ‘aura’ as their architecture. To stop painting from being used tokenistically, it is imperative to perceive painting and architecture’s digital mode of depiction as equal but different practices. A tokenistic translation between the two mediums can only result in one practice dominating the other.

Furthermore, the motive of architects who practice painting in the contemporaneous condition is also questionable. Walter Benjamin observed that when art switched to an exhibition mode of practice, it inevitably altered its production towards greater financial viability and situate itself in a political/social position. Architects’ painting or art practice becomes a prestigious façade, perpetuating the myth that architects are creative bohemians and their inherent greatness as artists. Placing the architectural painting in the gallery space provides the architect with a bulletproof vest for their concepts, instead of releasing the power of rejection to the public while they absorb the aesthetic/design of the building. Inside the gallery, architects are unapologetically urging spectators to agree with their concept in a concentrated mode of viewing—selling the mundaneness of its sections and plans as art, a total design approach where the architect dictates the user’s experience. On the other hand, architects can tap into the art market through painting, position architecture inside the economy and the gallery’s influence, shifting architecture from the public realm to one that’s more private, less subjected to reproduction. This relationship is beneficial to both parties; on the one hand, galleries or museums could pronounce their interdisciplinarity and vanguardism. While architects could apply the brand of art, its unfettered creativity and rejection to the neo-liberal market forces, to their architecture and practice.

Painting and Architecture- Practice-led Research

Following the case study, I have attempted to explore painting as a generative component within the architectural design process through my own experience of painting and translating painting into digital architecture. Before I dive in further with my analysis, I want to share some initial impressions of my experiment.

• Painting is a laborious process. Not only is painting time-consuming, but the interpterion of artworks needs a significant amount of research and critical thinking.

• Although painting can be an excellent relief for architect’s creativity, however, if architects cannot detach themselves from the preconception of their subject of depiction, the painting does not function as an incubator of ideas (which require a level of spontaneity and serendipity), but instead a confirmation of their pre-existing ideas and biases.

• Painting does not offer an objective point of view; it can only instigate a process of self-reflection by revealing its creator’s internal consciousness. Hence, the value of painting in architecture lies not in its apparent or immediate aesthetic quality but the critical analysis of the painting.  

• It is not easy to switch between the architect’s logic, which mainly deals with the physical, material world, and the artist, who specialises in the metaphysical and phenomenological conditions. In order to achieve this dual mode of thinking, architects need to establish a critical distance between them and their artworks by taking breaks between painting and its analysis or subject the painting to external critiques.

• The process of painting is a journey of self-doubt, whether it is the choice of technique and colour or the method of depiction. Self-doubt has helped me see the ambiguity in my painting and encouraged pluralistic thinking, and there can be different outcomes from the same method yet are all valid and rational. The different or even convoluted elements inhabit the same surface is a condition repeatedly echoed in architecture.

• The translation from canvas to computer can be as ambivalent as the painting itself. It is similarly an act of self-expression governed by the architect’s taste. Suppose architects approach this translation with an attitude of self-importance or see their interpretation as a dogmatic certainty. In that case, they risk only transplanting the superficial fragments of the painting to their architecture. The anecdotal evidence shows that when translation embraces multiplicity and uncertainty, the outcomes become more generative.

Paintings and their translation

The three paintings and their corresponding digital translations were analysed through the following questions:

• What are the general conditions when painting took place, how that might affect the result?

• How did painting translating into architectural elements?

• What are the spatial elements reflected in the painting?

• What were my expectations and preconceptions before and after painting?

• How to approach painting analysis, whether as an architect or artist?

  painting analysis

Painting one is loosely based on my impression of the rural landscape of Genoa and composed in contrast with the architectural characteristics of the town from my memory. The prima facie assumption of the painting is that it was founded atop of conscious choices with a sequential rationale. For example, yellow and orange represent the colours of the Genoa town Hall façade, and the white/grey depicts cloudy weather. Under the lens of scientific binary thinking, since all the elements presented in the painting/installation were based on objective truths (i.e., a piece of photographic evidence); hence the painting becomes a definitive conclusion for the site’s condition. However, it is worth acknowledging that this memory is highly processed as it went through various analyses and translations in the months prior to this study, fragmented and faded as time goes. Each fragment of my experience in Genoa is no longer attached to its initial reactions or impressions. Some fragments, such as the visage of the open field and monolithic architecture styles, took on a dominant position, while many other details were filtered out as a result. What did not appear on the painting illustrates an equally important narrative as the limited information represented on the canvas. For example, is my negation of ruins of the old school and other buildings based on my desire to construct a positive narrative or are they objectively insignificant to the site and its inhabitants? Here, the painting reveals the irrationality in the traditional methods of site analysis.

Furthermore, the optical memories and tactile experiences are juxtaposed with similarly filtered information from the community workshop. On the surface, this combination seemingly enables the architect’s creative autonomy while simultaneously addressing social concerns from others. For example, the community’s need for more recreational space is supposedly communicated through the bold colour choices, a clear example of creative expression. Nevertheless, this seemingly logical translation is based on society aligning bright colours with leisurely activities. The very issue of recreational facilities stood out due to my interest in the play-space. Pre-established personal taste and conventions can also influence the painting’s execution. For example, the romantic ideal of urbanisation and affection towards modernist maxim attributed to painting’s abstract characteristics. In addition, the painting is also shaped by the various restraints during its production, such as the decisions on utilising real-life objects and large colour blocks were due to the short production time frame. Together, this demonstrated the complexity of the internal and external forces converging onto the production of this painting.

Inconsistent and even contradictory facts and opinions conceived at different times depicted on the same surface establish the painting as a dialectical image. The painting in this situation became the ground of exchange. The underlying cause for the painting’s aesthetics is not merely its compositional unity or aesthetic dynamism but a direct result of fragments in dialogue. By position the painting as a dialectical image means accepting multiple systems of signs in operation, thus inviting me to uncover the tension between my personal experience guided by my urban background, the experience of the ‘others’ situated in the rural conditions, and myself as the professional third-person perceiving and documenting within the convention of architectural norms. Therefore, translating the dialectical image from the visual experience to architecture’s habitual one can result in contradictory programs, heterogeneous typologies, or the infusion of different social groups within one space.

Before painting started, I first wrote down the keywords relating to contextual background and my aspirations for what I want to achieve in all three instances. For this painting, information such as the locality, topographical or geological features, and quotes from the community engagement functioned as a priori knowledge, on which my aspirations were based. The aspirations such as architectural forms, spatial languages, painting styles and compositions were analysed and transformed against the contextual background. This process ensures the painting is contingent on both the external others while maintaining its creative autonomy. The initial layer was acrylic with geometric lines and shapes; however, it was repainted with oil, giving the painting its current form. The fact that painting changed drastically over time reflects that the process of painting is equivalent to articulating and challenging one’s perception regarding their subject. In this case, the switch from an overarching geometric form to a combination of realism and abstraction reflects the shift from a drawing-oriented mentality to a painting one and accepting pluralistic rationale.

Even though many of the aesthetic and compositional choices were based on either the empirical context or my subjective preferences, many decisions were spontaneous and experimental. For example, the orange and yellow blocks vaguely divided by perspectival lines were done simply because the painting lacked more directional cues to achieve a compositional unity. Surprisingly, this seemingly irrational decision directs the spectator’s focus towards the white area and generates visual reverberation due to the lines’ abrupt end. The painting’s success in establishing a balanced and dynamic picture can perhaps be interpreted as a desire for unobstructed visual linkage from the front to the back or the direction of articulation and distribution of programs. The abstractness and its ambiguity contributed to the painting’s architectural sensation often serendipitously. For example, the white colour, the silicon block and the dry flower can represent the sky, cloud and nature, or as walls, light and indoor flowers; This constant shift between the internal and external, the immediate and the distant later generated outdoor space with interior elements, and the idea of expanding space through temporary or flexible structures. The walls are penetrated by diverse shapes of openings supporting the two volumes and attempt to create a semi-internal space amidst the natural landscape. The incorporation of foreign objects as painterly elements has its origin within the contemporary painting’s ontological shift from Greenberg’s ‘painting as object’ idiom to becoming part of a ‘space of display’ (Mlicka, 2013). By observing the painting as an artist’s project, it infers a state of ephemeral existence within an iterative process (Schwabsky, 2010). Hence, to analyse painting within an architectural project is to see painting as an architectural critique and vice versa, to respond to painting’s flaws and virtues spatially. However, the rapidity of painting and its translation into digital models left little time to synthesise the findings from a critical distance between the two stages. Although the speed forced me to make more spontaneous decisions, it also resulted in the architectural translation over-relying on the established conventions without consulting with the painting’s context.

If painting one is an artist’s project first, and its architectural insights were gained from extrapolating and analysing the tension between the painterly elements; then, painting two positioned itself as a spatial project, with emphasis on responding to the medium’s objecthood at the same time as a method of critiquing itself (Mlicka, 2014). Like painting one, the second painting’s first layer was done by acrylic depicting abstracted forms. As the site analysis, the painting one’s underpainting was based on the tangible images of the landscape, whereas the second painting illustrated a pre-determined architectural concept in response to the previous translation to the digital model. The colourful blocks, spheres and ribbons were then almost entirely concealed by another layer of more austere coloured oil paint. The cover-up is a direct critique of the digital model’s absurd and flamboyant forms. However, the method of cover-ups created a new set of pictorial reality independent from the underpainting, operating against the relational maxim and positioning my ideology as the architect into a dominant position. Although the second painting reflected my dissatisfaction with the previous translation, its response does not generate enough dialogue between the two phases, threatening the cohesiveness between parts of the architecture. Like Benjamin’s critique on the Paris arcade, this dichotomy between phases should not be falsely interpreted as dialectical but an architectural ‘wish symbol’ rooted in the myth of the discipline’s autonomy (Lipton, 2016).

In contrast to painting one’s multiplicity and ambiguity derived from its competing systems of signified and signifiers, the second iteration solely focused on its pictorial possibilities and aesthetic sensibility. However, the negation of painting’s relation towards the external world resulted in conceptual absolutism, where the success of a painting is tied to its ability to achieve aesthetic harmony. While painting one was rooted in its figurative and social contextual past, artistic concepts were utilised to mediate spatial problems and the desire for self-expression. Here, the composition and execution of the painting became a purely subjective endeavour. The architectural translation is similarly idiosyncratic; the monumentality of the disc-shaped landscape is emblematic of the danger when architects fail to reckon with the contingent nature of creative disciplines. Although the limited production period for painting two contributed to its inconsiderate outcome. However, the leading proponent was that it failed to recognise: first, the discourse between different stages of design is linear; second, their outcomes are, as Henri Lefebvre pointed out, ‘fixed into an indexical pattern of communication’ (Lipton, 2016). The metamorphosis of painting into space and architecture requires architects to see it as a zigzag process where the temporal sequence is obsolete. Each stage’s outcomes are subject to revision and further fragmentation and perceive the signifier-signified relationship as fluid.

In summary, both paintings were produced to speculate an architecture solution and attempted to situate painting inside the architecture. Painting one exploited the tension and contradiction between my perception, the site’s reality and the community’s feedback to establish a self-perpetual discourse. It recognised the ambiguity and uncertainty between different elements, and its architectural translation embodied the painting’s duality. Whereas in the second painting, the ambiguity and multiplicity of meaning were replaced with a conceptual singularity. Its aesthetic pursuit ultimately translated into spatial totality. Although both paintings were used as part of the generative process, painting one offers far more possible translations and is more ethnographically attuned towards its subjects.

Painting three represent a significant methodological defeature from the previous two paintings. Firstly, the difference between this painting the first two is its relatively extensive period of production. The time factor determined the technique and scale of each painting, allowing a more in-depth analysis and an opportunity to observe the painting or architecture from a critical distance. Secondly, the final painting was based on well-resolved building designs; therefore, it primarily functions as a post-factum commentary where conceptual singularity is tolerated. In this case, the painting aimed to capture the singular deconstructivism narrative of dissecting and rearranging Genoa townhall’s volumes and structures into a new architectural language. The painting aimed to reflect and reuse its architectural subject’s characteristics by reinserting itself into the conceptualisation stage of design and re-fragmented the deconstructive architecture into further abstract formal elements. By revisiting and reinterpreting the new design, the painting critically engages with the established architecture solution as its ‘ruin’ from the standpoint of the ‘future prefect’, questioning the validity of architecture’s narrative while simultaneously exploring other spatial possibilities through its dialogue with the present (Moriarty, 1994). For example, the agglomeration of volumes and structural fragments in different perspectives suggests a covert urban condition within the project’s rural context.

The painting can also be interpreted formally. Its compositional unity between the flat background and perspectival foreground signifies the tension between the vastness of the rural landscape and the decentralised, heterogeneous building typology. When painting’s dominant role became representational, it inevitably faced the possibility of being trapped in the ‘translation of pictorial aesthetic’, such as paintings done by Zaha Hadid (Mlicka, 2014). However, I propose this can be mitigated by positioning painting as a simulacra of the architecture rather than simulating it. Defined by Jean Baudrillard, the simulacra are a representation without their original referent (Baudrillard, 1994); it allows the painting to purge its excess visual connection with architecture while preserving its ‘aura’. This is demonstrated by the apparent visual disconnection between the painting and architectural renders upon which it was originated. Painting three has also rid of the burden of further translating into spatial forms, which affords the painting greater creative freedom than the previous experiments. When the choices of colour, technique, and composition carry independent meanings, it, in turn, increases the painting’s complexity, which enables the formation of an autonomous visual language. For example, the downwards directional flow of the painting’s composition became a rudimentary syntax governing the signs made of each abstract element. Together, they mirror the architectural language of the existing design and provide a framework for new possibilities.

research Conclusion

While the case studies of Zaha Hadid and Will Alsop initially exhibited different approaches to painting in architecture. Ultimately, both of their practices were not genuinely interdisciplinary. Will Alsop positioned himself as both artist and architect; this double act resulted in his artistic practice and architecture only trod lightly and superficially with each other. On the other hand, Hadid’s paintings were subservient to her architecture was because she saw herself as an architect who painted. Compared to the speculative nature of the case studies, learnings from my own experience revealed a great deal more about how to practice painting in architecture. Although the process of painting and translating is idiosyncratic, it nonetheless produced some universalisable findings. First, painting is composed of ambiguous fragments in dialogue with space, and their meaning is fluid between art and architecture. Second, it reaffirms the notion that painting is above all relation and contingent to the external world. A thoughtful translation into architecture depends on the architect’s ability to remove the painting’s external referents and assign new meanings. Moreover, one painting’s translation should not be considered an objective truth for the next step in a generative process. However, instead one should constantly challenge the previously established notions or even reinsert paintings into different stages of the design process.

Looking at the research retrospectively, my initial research question ‘How do architects use painting with contemporary characteristics as a valid part of the architectural design process in conjuncture with digital design tools?’ seems less relevant and embodies a somewhat archaic attitude. It suggests a binary code of practice where the painting is entirely within or external to architecture. Learning from Derrida and Benjamin, despite what appears to be, on the surface, some irreconcilable contradictions exist between painting and architecture; the two disciplines not only could evade the divide by adopting the logic of deconstruction, but the contradiction themselves can become the ground of exchange when painting and architecture are considered as dialectical image. The phrase ‘in conjuncture with digital design tools’ in my research question failed to foresee the fluidity of painting’s role inside the design process. My experiment of placing painting into different design stages revealed that the digital translation and painting share a symbiotic relationship; painting acted as an equally generative component and at times supersedes its digital counterpart due to painting’s unfeathered autonomy, its innate creativity, and its auto-ethnographical ability. Therefore, I think the research question should be reframed to ‘How to situate painting in a generative design process?’

Like the research question deviated from the one asked initially, the translation of the research outcome has also changed to reach more audiences. First, the material outcomes from the research, such as the paintings and installations, along with paintings and architectural drawings from my previous studio are scheduled to be exhibited in the intermission gallery between the 11th and 16th of October. This is an opportunity to test the validity of my research arguments through the eyes of the spectators. Afterwards, the research will be translated into an illustrated exhibition catalogue with a brief and more accessible summary of the research. The primarily textual catalogue contrasts with the exhibition by offering my position on the subject matter, facilitating discourse and debate between the spectator and the research. The targeted audiences are mainly architecture or fine art students looking for precedents of combining painting and architecture into a singular critical practice.

Bibliography

• --. 2008.  Antinomies of Art and Culture, Modernity, Postmodernity, Contemporaneity. Edited by Terry Smith, Okwui Enwezor and Nancy Condee. Duke University Press.

• --. 2009. “Project MAXXI: Museum of XXI Century Arts “. Zaha Hadid Architects.

• Alsop, Will. 2002. Interview: Will Alsop (Winter 2002). edited by George Kapelos. Competitions Competitions.

• Baudrillard, Jean. 1994. Simulacra and simulation. Ann Arbor: Ann Arbor : University of Michigan Press.

• Belogolovsky, Vladimir. 2018. “Will Alsop: “That’s the Art of Architecture—Putting Everything Together in Your Own Way”.” ArchDaily. https://www.archdaily.com/894634/will-alsop-thats-the-art-of-architecture-putting-everything-together-in-your-own-way.

• Benjamin, Walter. 1998. The origin of German tragic drama. London: London : Verso.

• Benjamin, Walter. 1999. The arcades project. Edited by Rolf Tiedemann. Cambridge, Mass.

• Benjamin, Walter. 2008. The work of art in the age of mechanical reproduction. Edited by J. A. Underwood. London: London : Penguin.

• Bois, Yve-Alain. 1990. Painting as model. Cambridge, Mass.: Cambridge, Mass. : MIT Press.

• Derrida, Jacques. 1976. Of grammatology. 1st American ed. ed. Baltimore: Baltimore : Johns Hopkins University Press.

• Derrida, Jacques, and Hilary P. Hanel. 1990. “A Letter to Peter Eisenman.” Assemblage (12): 6. https://doi.org/10.2307/3171113.

• Dickerman, Leah. 2012. Inventing abstraction, 1910-1925 : how a radical idea changed modern art. Edited by Matthew Affron and Art Museum of Modern. New York: New York : Museum of Modern Art : Distributed in the U.S. and Canada by Artbook/D.A.P.

• Eisenman, Peter. 1990. “Post/El Cards: A Reply to Jacques Derrida.” Assemblage 12 (12): 14-17. https://doi.org/10.2307/3171114.

• Giannotti, Andrea. 2012. MAXXI Museum / Zaha Hadid Architects. ArchDaily.

• Greenberg, Clement. 1961. “Modernist Painting “Arts Yearbook 4.

• Hadid, Zaha. 2005. Zaha Hadid : testing the boundaries. Edited by Andreas Papadakis and Alexandra Papadakis. London: London : Papadakis Publisher.

• Hadid, Zaha. 2012. Zaha Hadid and suprematism. Edited by Gmurzynska Galerie.Suprematism. Ostfildern: Ostfildern : Hatje Cantz Verlag.

• Heathcote, Edwin. 2010. “Tomorrow’s Architecture Yesterday.” Financial Times

• Jacob, Sam. 2018. Will Alsop had the balls to think differently. Dezeen.

• Krauss, Rosalind E. 1998. The Picasso papers. 1st ed. ed. New York: New York : Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

• Kristeva, Julia. 1998. “Institutional interdisciplinarity in theory and practice: an interview.” In the Anxiety of Interdisciplinarity, edited by Alex Coles and Alexia Defert, 5-6.

• Lawlor, Leonard. 2006. Jacques Derrida The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Fall 2021 Edition): Department of Philosophy, Stanford University.

• Lipton, Ross. 2016. “Benjamin’s dialectical image and the textuality of the built landscape.” Footprint : Delft School of Design journal 2016 (18): 75-90. https://doi.org/10.7480/footprint.10.1.961.

• Macarthur, John. 1993. “Experiencing absence: Eisenman and Derrida, Benjamin and Schwitters.” In Knowledge and/or/of experience, 99-123. Brisbane, QLD, Australia: Institute of Modern Art, Brisbane, Queensland.

• Maddocks, Fiona. 2014. “In the studio with Will Alsop RA.” RA Magazine.

• Mlicka, Agnieszka. 2013. “Books : “Painting with architecture in mind,” edited by Edward Whittaker and Alex Landrum.” Leonardo (Oxford) 46: 503-503.

• Mlicka, Agnieszka. 2013. “Painting Architecture: Towards a Practice-Led Research Methodology.” Studies in Material Thinking 10.

• Moriarty, Marilyn F. 1994. “The Search for Common Ground.” In Critical Architecture and Contemporary Culture, edited by William J. Lillyman, Marilyn F. Moriarty, David J. Neuman and David J. Neuman. Cary, UNITED STATES: University of California Humanities Research Institute.

• Porter, Tom. 2010. Will Alsop: The Noise. London: London: Routledge.

• Quirk, Vanessa. 2013. “In Conversation With: Will Alsop.” ArchDaily https://www.archdaily.com/346572/in-conversation-with-will-alsop.

• Rendell, Jane. 2006. Art and architecture : a place between. Edited by Bloomsbury. London: London : I.B. Tauris.

• Rendell, Jane. 2007. “Critical architecture”. London New York: London New York : Routledge.

• Ruthen, Sean. 2013. “Book Review: Will Alsop – The Noise.” Spacing Vancouver http://spacing.ca/vancouver/2013/02/26/will-alsop-the-noise/.

• Santibañez, Danae. 2019. The Creative Process of Zaha Hadid, As Revealed Through Her Paintings. ArchDaily.

• Schumacher, Patrik. 2005. “Graphic Spaces- Aspects of the Work of Zaha Hadid.” In Zaha Hadid: testing the boundaries, edited by Andreas Papadaki Alexandra Papadaki, 198. Papadakis Publisher

• Schwabsky, Barry. 2010. “Object or Project? A Critic’s Reflections on the Ontology of Painting.” In Contemporary painting in context, edited by Anne Ring Petersen, Mikkel Bogh, Hans Dam Christensen and Peter Nørgaard Larsen. Copenhagen: Copenhagen : Museum Tusculanum Press, University of Copenhagen.

• Steele, Brett. 2017. “Anecdote as Evidence: Zaha’s World.” Log (40): 27-37. http://www.jstor.org/stable/26323868.

• Titmarsh, Mark. 2006. “Shapes of inhabitation: Painting in the expanded field.” Art Monthly Australia.