FUTURIST /'"'vN the editorial page of a New York 
ARCHITECTURE V_/ newspaper there recently appeared 
a casual criticism of the archi¬ 
tecture of Manhattan. It was stated that the ensemble of the 
city was entirely devoid of architectural unity and revealed fickle 
treatment, a turning from one fad to another. Furthermore, 
the buildings themselves were described as un-American. Pro¬ 
totypes of the Woolworth Building, the Madison Square Gar¬ 
den tower and the Metropolitan tower were cited in order to 
prove that the architecture was merely European grafted 
upon American structures. The conclusion was drawn that, 
despite our progress in other things, we had evolved nothing 
distinctively American in architecture, and that it was time 
for a Futurist school to appear and produce a style peculiarly 
our own. 
Because this periodical plea for a distinctly American archi¬ 
tecture is SO' persistently recurrent, and because it appears with 
such commonplace regularity, it might well have elicited merely 
the reply of a yawn. But the case is altered when the old topic 
reappears again under the cloak of Futurism; having a painful 
recollection of the example of “Futurist” architecture shown 
at the recent International Exposition, we must retort. That 
one model is beyond criticism simply because two individuals 
cannot argue in two different languages and establish any con¬ 
clusion without resorting to physical violence. But where there 
may be some doubt about the function of a painting, there is 
not about a building. The example in the Sixty-ninth Regiment 
Armory fails in its function of being a dwelling. It simply 
wouldn’t work. 
While this aspect of the distinctively American architecture 
is before us it might be well to investigate the national styles 
of any country, limiting our discussion for convenience to the 
dwelling house. From a rudimentary shelter of sods, or hides, 
or bark there developed a structure better fitted to keep out 
the weather—the growth was simply one that showed a grad¬ 
ual improvement in efficiency as a protection. It paralleled the 
invention of tools or the appearance of primitive manufacturing 
skill. As with any development, come greater and more diversi¬ 
fied wants. The primitive hut became more than a shelter; it 
contained certain conveniences. Later, with awakening esthetic 
sense, came decoration and ornament, until the homes of the 
people became what we find them to-day. The architecture 
depended upon racial characteristics, on climate, on geologic or 
geographical conditions. Civilization advanced with the traffic 
between towns and nations, and architecture was influenced by 
foreign ideas. Thus it is that Egyptian detail has much that is 
Assyrian about it; Roman much engrafted from all the states 
that flourished during her prime. In the domestic styles, how¬ 
ever, the traditions of the land strongly prevailed, and there are 
some nations where it might be conceded that there are charac¬ 
teristic national types—England and Germany, or Switzerland, 
for instance. Even there, however, an argumentative analyst 
might show evidence of foreign influence or prove similarities 
between styles. 
In America, national growth shows a marked difference. Fol¬ 
lowing the previously given analogy, an American type should 
show characteristics of the Indian tepee. But the Indian con¬ 
tributed nothing. There was no development from an elemental 
type. These United States were settled by different races and 
different nationalities. Their geography and climate show an 
immense range of conditions. Throughout this diversified envi¬ 
ronment the process of amalgamation is going on. The land is 
a potential Babel, except that there speech only was confused. 
Here ideals, training, customs, religion—all vary; but instead 
of confusion there is combination rather than conglomeration. 
Not only New York, but the nation is the melting pot of peoples. 
Can we then expect a representative national architecture, a dis¬ 
tinctively American evolutionary type, free from outside influ¬ 
ence? It may not come until we are sure of what is American, 
unless the new school is to be born by partheno-genesis; suddenly, 
by a miracle. 
And now this Futurist architecture, what may that be? Ac¬ 
cording to the article aforementioned we have a right to assume 
this to mean an architecture built upon the creed of the Modern¬ 
ist school. It is to be individualistic, distinct and original; it 
must spring like Athena from Jove’s head. Really to be Futurist 
the house could not be a house as we think of it—that would 
show slavery to tradition. It must be an absolutely new concep¬ 
tion and free from the cramping effect of habit or rule or custom. 
In the case of painting and sculpture, criticism may be turned 
aside by refusing to accept the terms of the hypothetical ques¬ 
tion. If one says, “This is a new art; it never existed before; 
it cannot be judged by the canons of other art; besides it 
fights canons of all sorts,” he steps beyond the range of argu¬ 
ment. 
The claim, however, may be criticised. This “subjective objec¬ 
tivity” is either divine inspiration or it is taught by one to 
another, developed by theory and practice; the originator to 
his pupils. Some one simply assumes the province of time and 
change and experience; he places himself in the position of tra¬ 
dition. “I am greater than the ages; follow me, not them,” must 
be his exhortation. It is clear, then, that there must be imita¬ 
tion in this new art; moreover that it is only an unnatural process, 
its machinery working exactly as art developed, except that the 
artificial is substituted for the real, the unnatural for the natural, 
a moment for an age. The very claims of Futurism to original¬ 
ity are fatuous. Beyond this it is retrogression to pre-Darwinian 
methods of thought. It would prefer the doctrine of spontane¬ 
ous growth to the scientific and modern idea of evolution. It 
substitutes ratiocination for experimental reasoning. 
Thank goodness there is something so very healthy about the 
business of architecture that it is fairly free from the continual 
eccentricities of cultists! Combined with the esthetic there is 
the balancing necessity of utility. The house is to be lived in; 
it has functional requirements. 
One cannot conceive of any of the defensive statements made 
for Modernist painting similarly brought forward for architecture. 
“My impression of a house” may be unchallenged on canvas, but 
when wrought in building materials —the idea is too preposter¬ 
ous. Think of Futurist plumbing and heating! Yet they are 
considerations of the architect’s art. 
It is so futile to be seduced by a fad, lured by a term. The 
words of the appeal for a Futurist architecture are thoughtless. 
If there is a sensational Futurist painting and sculpture, why 
not architecture? New, American, different — all the picturesque 
features, but none of the useful ones. It is such flighty criticism 
that is raised against American work to-day. There is room for 
just criticism, but the cheap substitute continually appears instead. 
It is to be hoped that those good workers who are interpreting 
the constant change and development and new requirements will 
continue in their typically American work. Our architects have 
an ear to the ground, not an eye on the magician’s crystal. They 
are not imitators, but constructors who some day will evolve, 
develop and create. Their work is not from air. Its ideals con¬ 
sider rather the end than the beginning. Let us forget the silly 
plaint for an American style in the realization that we are achiev¬ 
ing it in process. 
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