Simplicity

Belatedly I finished John Maeda‘s book, The Laws of Simplicity, which outlines ten laws for balancing simplicity and complexity in business, technology and design. In effect he is building on the “Less is More” principle, popularized by architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe (originally spoken by Robert Browning in 1855.)

I’ve been a long admirer of the concept of simplicity. In architecture and the arts, simplicity was often called “minimalism” or even “modernism”. At the turn of the last century, in reacting to rampant pluralism of styles, and trying to come to terms with industrial production and the embodiment of socialist ideals, modernists rejected ornamentation and sought more fundamental architectural values. They stripped architecture down to it minimal functionality. Works by Mies van der Rohe and Le Corbusier of the 1920′s and 1930′s exemplify this movement.

By the 60-70′s simplicity had become stylized to the point that some reacted against its “over-simplification” burden of stylized, soul-less modern architecture. The vanguard of this reaction was Robert Venturi‘s compelling 1966 book, Complexity and Contradiction in Architecture. In this book, the author call for a return to richness in architectural meaning, and the embrace of inherent contradictions of the human condition. Unfortunately what they started was the beginning of the often misguided and cacaphonic post-modern movement in architecture.

Maeda’s book mentions this cyclical relationship and rhythm simplicity and complexity have towards their coexistence. We seem once again to be drifting towards the simplicity extreme again these days.

What I liked the most about Venturi’s book, isn’t so much the complexity part, but the contradiction part. I think we are bound to live with contradiction. This is a part of what makes us human. I love simplicity but I value complexity. Fractal rules are so simple yet they reveal a deep complexity. Humans are wonderfully complex but driven by very simple hopes and loves. I see it all the time within me and in my children.

It seems that Maeda tries to dig deeper to a more spiritual plane. What he write seems more than a series of observations that can be translated into techniques for product development or organizing your desk. It is less a series of laws to abide by and more a series of conversations worth engaging in, with our very being, in search for a deeper meaning.

Vittorio Gregotti, Italian architect, architectural critic and former editor of Casabella has a whole chapter entitled “On Simplicity” in his 1996 book Inside Architecture. Here he muses: (my italics)

…to me simplicity is not simplification, and above all not simplification as a formal model. Eloquent simplicity can be reached through great effort, but it is never a good starting point, nor above all, an objective at any cost. Architecture is not simple; it can only become simple.

…Simplicity must make contradiction itself clear and compehensible without denying its existence and its value as a material for establishing difference.

Gregotti talks about simplicity in the context of architecture, but it can equally be applied to product design or design of online services. What he seems to be getting at is that we should not strive for simplicity for its own sake. This will end up being another misguided stylistic overture or even worse, end up denying the a meaningful part of our existence.

The future of simplicity seems to be in its ability to work with complexity. Industrial production techniques nowadays allow for simple, personalized variations in design. (think iPods inscribed with personal messages before delivery). Websites deliver, in simple form, personalized information that is in fact generated through complex algorithms and make use of immense processing power.

Great complexity belies anything of great beauty or meaning.

Leibniz once wrote:

The infinite fold separates or moves between matter and soul, the facade and the closed room, the outside and the inside.

Infinity that is enclosed in a finite space. Now that’s a simple and complex idea, if not a pure contradiction.

My Lloyd's on London photo on Schmap!

A photos I took back in 1989 of Richard Rogers‘s Lloyd’s of London made it on to Schmap‘s guide to London, a dynamically travel guide which bills itself as:

Exploring a Schmap Guide is a uniquely interactive experience: maps and guide content are dynamically integrated, allowing intuitive, real-time access to reviews and photo slideshows for places of interest.

You can also see the original photo or the Lloyd’s of London Flickr set.

Dismantling the P&O Building, London (via Daily Mail)

Amazing photograph of the P&O Building in London getting dismantled bottom up. It reveals how the whole building is actually supported by the structural utility core, and that volume does not equate to weight. [Daily Mail via BLDGBLOG]

The angle and composition of the photo reminds me of two painting, one by René Magritte and another by M.C. Escher exploring similar themes of volume and mass.

Lightness

It also reminds me of how Buckminster Fuller – architect, engineer, innovator, inventor – was always concerned about how much a building weighed. He went on to construct the world’s first geodesic dome building in 1949, which was a building that could sustain its own weight with no practical limits. He gave practical meaning to the phase “less is more” when he said in 1980:

For the first time in history it is now possible to take care of everybody at a higher standard of living than any have ever known. Only ten years ago the ‘more with less’ technology reached the point where this could be done. All humanity now has the option to become enduringly successful.

We see Bucky Fuller’s influence live on in sustainable architecture projects, best know of which is Habitat for Humanity.

A weight of a building, we now know, has more somber consequences in the aftermath of 9/11.

The video wall inside the IAC building, Frank Gehry’s New York City landmark is huge. At this scale is ceases to be a “display” screen and comes into the realm of the architectural, where it starts to define the character of the space.

This is very high on the list of places to visit next time I am in NY.

ITP Big Screens Testing Round 2 from shiffman on Vimeo.

The Getty Center, Los Angeles (Richard Meier)

I’ve spent a lot of time in Los Angeles in the past few months consulting for a client there. In a short-but-sweet time off, I did get to visit the Getty Center, a huge $1.2 billiion complex overlooking LA, designed by Richard Meier, which was literally walking distance from the hotel I was staying at.

Richard Meier is one of those architects whose works all architecture students of my generation have a love hate relationship with. You love it because it’s so romantically modern, in the lineage of the master Corbu himself, but begin to hate for the same hegemony and seductive qualities, constraining the exploration of architectural potential.

The Getty Center stands almost like the Acropolis on a hillside and is accessible only by tram. But I must say, I was impressed by the architecture, and the attention to detail. Meier’s signature white walls, the careful choice of materials, the landscaping, the architectural promenade weaving through the building that serendipitously revealing view of LA all beautifully complement the blue sky and the dry landscape.

You could sit on the grass, which prompted one surprised kids to shout back at his parents, “Look Ma – free grass!” It just tells you how nature-deprived we all are living in cities.

On one of the steps, I found something interesting: an imprint of a leaf in the travertine stair landing. It’s a mystery how it got there.

I put together one Flickr set of all the photos I took at the Getty, and one of just the materials.