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The Building "For the classical mind, everything in the world has a character of its own in the sense that it bears distinctive features by which we can recognise it." Dimitri Porphyrios2 As I write this, I am on a visit to Siracusa in Sicily. I am staying in the historical quarter of Ortigia. This part of Siracusa is actually an island separated by a small canal from the rest of the city. It is the best preserved part and contains all the city's civic functions. I am surrounded by the buildings that define the city's history and loving every minute of it. The buildings here derive their style from the mix of Greek, Norman and Baroque influences. One of the most characteristic aspects is the baroque style balcony with it bowl-shaped balustrading. It is an identifier of a regional style that seems also common to other nearby towns. Overall, in walking around the historical part, one gleans an idea of what the city is like. One has a sense of the town's "character". One begins to get the feeling of knowing it, not just as a memory map but as a "being". In Siracusa, one comes across many buildings, that as Margaret Visser says, "speak". That is, they are loaded with meaning and artistic intent. The most fundamental one is the use of a particularly soft yellowy limestone peculiar to this region. The stone seems to a fusion of sandy particles with some volcanic substance. The wear on the ornaments carved from this stone is quite severe but the overall effect is intriguingly charming in its brittleness. This material creates a play with the strong sun, changing its hue with every different sun angle. The classical buildings follow a particular local practice in their dimensions, proportions and ornaments that display unmistakable middle eastern influences. These elements create an urban code and the town therefore "reads" as a coherent cultural entity. There is a strong classicism underlying the exuberance of its flirtatious proportions and florid ornamentations. Here one can see clearly how the formal grammar supports even the most outrageous flaunting of polite compositional rules. The syntax in classicism is therefore proven to be quite flexible. As such, here in Siracusa there is the possibility of establishing an affective rapport with these buildings that "speak" irrespective of their type, importance or size. Why is the same promise of a lasting friendship not suggested by modern glass towers or even the much lauded Hong Kong Shanhai bank, an impressive piece of construction though it may be? By Dimitri Pophyrios' definition, the Hong Kong and Shanghai bank must have a certain character too. How would we describe it? What would interest us in the long-term about its architectonic components? In appreciating modern architecture, we move from the "reading" of character into the realm of "feeling" - for the effects. 2. Classical Architecture, Dimitri Porphyrios |