The first of this month's series of
articles on the role of the com-
puter in architecture seeks to dis-
tinguish between architecture as
'the immediate practical process of
creating new examples,' and archi-
tecture as a scientific process of
enquiry into relationships. It is as
a tool for the latter that the
authors see the most immediate
usefulness of the computer.
by Welden E. Clark and
James J. Souder, AIA*
(reprinted with permission from
"Architectural and Engineering
News," March 1965)
*The authors are members of Bolt,
Beranek and Newman, Inc. in Los
Angeles. Both are registered architects,
and both hold architectural degrees
from MIT. Mr. Clark is co-director of
the BB&N Computer Laboratory. Mr.
Souder is former director of a pilot
project in computer-aided architectural
planning sponsored by AIA and the
American Hospital Association.
The curiosity of architects about
computers has been evident from
large attendance at several regional
conferences dealing with this new
technology. Oddly enough, how-
cver, not many architects have in-
dicated that they see any but the
most pedestrian uses for computers
in their work. The responses that
arise from these conferences too
often are limited to interest in
"control over engineering and
drafting" and concern with the
possibility for "multiplied stupid-
ity" in the misuse of powerful
tools.
 Much of the uncertainty can be
laid at the feet of those trying to
use and to explain these new tools
-we are still stumbling along,
searching for pathways, and our
perspectives are not yet very broad.
As more of us learn how to use
and describe our tools this prob-
lem should diminish.
'Noble art' syndrome
There are, however, several easily
spotted types of reactions that are
evidence of hostility or apathy.
One of these says, in essence, "this
scientific jazz is probably all right
for those dull sorts of projects
done by engineers and developers
but it has nothing to do with ar-
chitecture, and it certainly is not
creative." This might be labelled
as the noble art syndrome.
 A second reaction can be
phrased as "these marvelous new
machines should not be misused
for degrading, menial tasks but
rather reserved to be used for their
lofty purpose by true masters of
proven creative ability." This we
JANUARY, 1967


Planning Buildings


By Com]

might call the noble instrument
syndrome.
 The third easily typed reaction
goes something like "those mach-
ines must be fascinating play-
things, with all their flashing lights
and gadgets, but it's obvious that
no one is able to do a man's work
with them." This we will label as
the new gimmick syndrome.
 Clearly, there is no room for
informed criticism and thoughtful
dispute, and the extreme attitudes
paraphrased by the preceding state-
ments are not useful criticism.
 Architecture as we know it, be
it a house, a church, a factory, or a
townscape, cannot be created from
a cookbook or from a computer
program. One reason is that the
language of our cookbooks and of
our computers is not rich enough
to describe the essential ingredi-
ents. A more important reason,
though, is that we do not know
enough to be able to describe the
complex interactions of the ingre-
dients and the variations in desires
of the recipients.
 The most gifted among us can
use new and untried materials,
or old materials and old forms in
new combinations, to achieve re-
sults acknowledged as good archi-
tecture. Sometimes the principles
inherent in these works can be
identified and applied broadly to
other works-we then speak of a
style as Bay Region, or Interna-
tional, or Carpenter Gothic. We
have not yet found the under-
standing and the language that
will permit complete rational ex-
amination and description of ar-
chitectural works and their reasons
for being. Will we ever reach this
state? If so, it would follow that
we could design and instruct com-
puters to perform much of what
is now done by architects.
An art? A science?
Are we suggesting that architec-
ture is scientific? Not exactly. In
casual speech we tend to talk of
architecture as a process, a disci-
pline, a way of life. This habit
leads to confusion between the re-
sult and the means.
 One way to avoid the confusion
is to adopt limiting definitions for
some of the words we use. Let us
use the word architecture to refer
to the bricks and steel, the enclos-


puter
 ed and open spaces, the textures
 and lighting patterns that are the
 visual context of our human cul-
 ture. We can allow the definition
 to cover natural elements as well
 as man-made ones.
 But let us not use the word
 architecture to mean the processes
 that are performed by architects,
 or the sensory perceptions and in-
 tellectual concepts arising from our
 experiences in that visual context.
 Instead of using one word to sug-
 gest at the same time an intellect-
 ual process, a material object and
 an emotional experience, let us
 take pains always to define our
 relationship to the context. Thus
 we can talk of the art (or craft, or
 technology) of architecture as the
 immediate practical process of cre-
 ating new examples, and of the
 more remote science of architec-
 ture as the process of inquiry into
 relationships and the development
 of theories about those relation-
 ships.
 Such a distinction between activ-
 ities enables us to focus on the
 art of architecture as the process
 of producing documents for build-
 ing a church or a laboratory, a
 school or a memorial, somewhat
 independent of the uses which so-
 ciety will make of the building.
 Likewise we can focus on the sci-
 ence of architecture whether we
 are concerned with theories of seis-
 mic design, psychophysical percep-
 tions of space, or cultural symbols.
 Creative process-
 and wastebasket
 A part of the folklore of architec-
 tural education is the idea that
 each new building is a unique
 problem.
 This is generally raised in argu-
 ments against stock plans and
 detailed prototype designs, and
 usually with good reason. The dan-
 ger in the idea is that it easily be-
 comes stretched to the notion that
 the process of planning and design
 itself is unique to each project.
 Many objections to the use of
 computers (and to many of the
 analytic techniques of engineer-
 ing) are seemingly based on this
 fallacious confusion between a pro-
 cess which is general and a desired
 solution which may be unique.
 The consumption of sketch pa-
 per is tribute to the amount of
 5