Designing 'Truth'

“The pictures in this book are witnesses to the truth,” writes Le Corbusier in his introduction to “Architecture of Truth,” a volume of photographs taken by fellow Frenchman Lucien Herve. The subject of Herve’s light-and-shadow-seeking lens in this particular collection: Le Thoronet Abbey, a 12th-century Cistercian monastery, nestled in a hushed and sylvan valley of Provence, in the south of France.

What is truth, you want to ask Le Corbusier, if you’re not afraid to sound like a cynic of biblical proportion. More specifically, what is “truth in architecture?”

Le Corbusier was interested in structural harmonies, proportions and rhythms that he believed were “the very root of human activities. They resound in man by an organic inevitability.” Organic, maybe, but to me his designs portray a certain economy and restraint that I wouldn’t exactly equate with the wild and raucous world of nature. But he’s French, and of course he’s just one guy, and possibly a Nazi sympathizer at that, and therefore we don’t have to rely solely on his soaring rhetoric to determine the truth.

In any case, Le Corbusier’s definition is kind of a neo-classical one, I think. The ancient Greeks sought an early ideal of clarity and balance in all of their creative and argumentative efforts. While you could describe Roman architecture as aspiring to truth through sheer mass, in the Middle Ages and during the Renaissance truth was expressed through the building of cathedrals. During and after the Industrial Revolution churches gave way to train stations. And in the last century, I would say that train stations were eclipsed by airports, museums, hotels and shopping malls.

This analysis, by the way, is made possible by virtue of a conventional liberal arts education, a slightly-more-than-moderate lifelong level of curiosity and the rich if random resources of the Internet — all fueled by morning coffee, sunshine and a good night’s sleep.

In a legitimate quest for authenticity, therefore, I meant to query Jay Clark, La Cañada Flintridge resident and vice president of RTKL, a global architecture and design firm based in Los Angeles, about this concept of truth. But I totally forgot about it during our recent conversation. I think I neglected to pose my sort-of-smarmy, schoolgirlish question because Jay was, in describing his company’s urban development and design projects, implicitly answering the question in the most valid way he could — through his work.

According to his company profile, Jay’s diverse portfolio “features award-winning work throughout California and as far away as China, Indonesia and Taiwan.” Jay has been involved in the Union Street Village, Fuller Theological Seminary, Central District and Paseo Colorado projects in Pasadena. Though he and his colleagues have dappled the globe with their expert design and construction efforts, nowhere are they more prolific than right here in Southern California.

Consider a little endeavor called L.A. Live. RTKL was commissioned by Anschutz Entertainment Group (AEG) to create a master plan for a 27-acre urban district that sprawled over more than four-million-square-feet and would serve six million people annually. The original plan, designed to develop in three phases over nearly a decade, included two hotels, 800 residential units, 150,000-square-feet of office space, a 7,100-seat theater, additional performing arts space, nightclubs, specialty restaurants and a multilevel parking structure.

“The master plan for L.A. Live was the beginning of a significant transformation for downtown Los Angeles,” says Clark.
The opening of the NOKIA Theater and Plaza in 2007 marked the completion of the project’s first phase. Cosmically, luminously beautiful and having hosted the American Music Awards, among other notable events, the theater symbolizes a new and vital vision for downtown LA; revitalized not simply for the purpose of spectacle, but for an accessible mixture of residential, commercial and public use that defines modern urban development.

Clark says the unifying factor among the firm’s projects has to do with quality and expertise. “Our approach is basically always the same,” he explains. The process includes traffic analysis, economic and cultural feasibilities, transportation issues, communication and historic considerations.

“It’s what we do,” he says simply. “We always seek the highest and best use for every space.”

OK, maybe that’s a little subjective. But still. The highest and best use sounds like a pretty good definition of truth in architecture to me.

Contact Joanna Dehn Beresford at truewrite@yahoo.com.