The English summary that opens this article appeared verbatim on the printed page alongside the fuller Farsi essay. Both texts are by the author.
At the first glance, theoretical discussions about architecture might not seem as important and vital as designing and constructing a work of architecture. It is axiomatic that a discourse on architecture is much different from creating a work of architecture; however, many insoluble problems in discourse or theory might rise from a mix-up of two completely different fields: discourse and practice.
In a discussion about architecture one can segregate function from form. We can think about it, write books on it, assess its value and develop the subject — as far as our talent and potential allow us to do so — as if it is an independent entity. That goes for the form too: as far as the intellect and linguistics are concerned, we can ask whether form or function is of the utmost importance. This verbal play is not vain, it might influence some of our decisions, however such attitude belongs to the world of meaning and language and it affects the outer world in a totally different way.
However, you make architecture in the outer world and create a work, which contains a purpose (i.e. function) and which has a form; although you might not understand its purpose or do not consider it logical or useful, or ignore it or dislike its form or call it formless because of your disgust.
Any domain that we are connected with has its own regulations, which are usually imposed on us by the domain itself. If people can understand us and we can agree or disagree on any subject, it is because of observing these regulations relatively. Ambiguity starts when we consider words and verbal rules to be the same as their equivalents in the outer world and when we apply the rules of one field to the other. Although preferences and values are related to architecture, they inherently stem from assumptions, ambitions, beliefs and especial situations and conditions. Therefore, our understanding of architecture constantly changes and our value judgment fluctuates; however, the architectural works are formed through a sort of coherence that is much different from what we discussed here and could be interpreted each time in a different and new way.
Discourse could be one of the essential means of comprehension only if we do not consider apprehension as something solid and stagnant and only if we do not segregate in the real world what we separate in discourse. They are not, in fact, separable.
The fuller Farsi essay — translated
1. At first glance, a discussion about architecture may not seem important or vital compared with designing and constructing a work of architecture itself. But anyone who is even slightly engaged in architectural work — or wants to understand a work, or in some way, even privately, expresses a preference, judges a work as good or evaluates it as bad — soon realizes that discussion about architecture is of the greatest importance. It is in discussion that our goals are evaluated, our methods are corrected and sympathy is created, tastes take shape, concepts are born and other concepts die.
This of course does not mean that these things cannot be brought about in other shapes and by other methods. But in any case, through discussion about architecture, with transparency and with the cooperation of others, the receptive grounds that are the bed for the growth and creation of architectural works can be cultivated all the more.
It is clear that discussion about architecture differs from the creation of a work of architecture. But because a large part of both matters (discussion and creation) is mental, this difference is not at first perceived; and even if perceived, it is quickly forgotten, and the two realms are so mingled that distinguishing the territory of each becomes almost impossible.
Attending to this matter becomes important the moment we begin to ask why some questions — which we pass over easily in practice and which never create a particular problem for us — turn into an insoluble difficulty the moment we sit down to discuss them, or to comment on and critique the opinions of others. Have we not been left bewildered by questions like: is form more important or function? Do circumstances and possibilities create ideas, or do ideas create the necessary circumstances and possibilities for themselves?
Yet it is rare that you have faced such a problem in the process of creating architecture; and if you were sensitive, you will have resolved it quickly.
Many of the insoluble difficulties in discussion and thought about architecture may arise from the mingling of two completely different domains: discussion and practice. My aim in this writing is to draw architects' attention to this matter. For if this writing has some share of logic and truth, and if it is attended to, it may set the discussion of architecture in order. If it is bewildering, repellent, and useless, it is bad; and if it is, by contrast, transformative and effective, conducted with friendship, sympathy, and respect, it is greatly useful to architecture.
2. The creation of a work of architecture, like any other undertaking in the objective world, is a chain of interconnected and indivisible actions, and all its components must come together. While the importance of each of these components — and of the factors into which any work of architecture is decomposed — may differ in the view of different people, in one respect all the components have equal value: until all the components are together, there will be no work; and if there is no maker, again nothing will come into being. The question of which of these components is the more important does not belong to this domain. The domain of value-judgment is another domain.
The domains that the human being chooses for different purposes — in each choice of domain, the tools and rules appropriate to it must be employed, and one must avoid mixing and using inappropriately the useful instruments of one domain in another.
3. Language is the foundational instrument of discussion. It is an exceedingly rich instrument that carries the knowledge of thousands of generations, and is not only the expressor of meaning but the maker of meaning. (Heidegger says: the human being thinks with language; or, language is the house of being — if I have quoted correctly.) But since everyone has the capacity to use its words and combinations, the complexity and trickery of language is underestimated. Apparently simple and straightforward sentences are constructed, and then obscurity and ambiguity show themselves. Sometimes the concepts contain enough complexity by themselves, and language adds to the cause.
4. It was said that architecture is a comprehensive practice, and that out of the mingling of thousands of factors brought together a single whole is formed. The human being chooses the word "architecture" for all of them, and by uttering it makes the exchange of meaning possible.
5. When the question "what is architecture?" arises, it points to factors that are unclear even to the answerer or the explainer. But with a single gesture in the real world — toward an actual work of architecture — a partial, or even a whole, answer is given to the question.
In the world of language, however, the matter is not so easy. To answer, one must point to a large number of material elements, recall many mental states and intentions, issue many value-judgments — and the chain is a long one. A number of these elements and judgments are relative; depending on the temporal and spatial situation, the purpose of the discussion and the knowledge and values accepted by the parties to the discussion take different forms.
So in discussion we are dealing with a domain whose structure, concepts, and presuppositions give rise to differences in the understanding of words and sentences.
6. In the domain of language and understanding, the parts of a whole may be separated from one another, and each one — with its own distinct identity — may be studied and discussed and exchanged as information. This property is not present in the external world. In the world of meaning, addition and subtraction are vital to understanding. If concepts cannot be decomposed into parts, understanding will probably be impossible. In a discussion about architecture, one can separate function from form. One can think about it, write books on it, assign value to it, and as an independent entity — as far as talent and ability permit — push it forward. The same goes for form. In language and understanding, one can ask whether form is more important or function, and these questions place us at a crossroads. But this manner of working belongs to the domain of language and understanding, and its effect in the outer world is not of this kind. In the outer world you create architecture and realize a work that bears a purpose (function) and has a form — even if you do not understand its purpose, or do not consider that purpose to be logical or worthy of attention and call it useless, or do not like its form and, out of disgust, declare it devoid of form.
Each of the domains we deal with has its own particular rules, observance of which is mostly imposed on us by the domain itself. The fact that people understand us, and that we agree on some matters and part ways on others, is related to relative observance of these rules. Ambiguity begins when we assume that words and linguistic rules are everywhere equal to external reality, and apply the rules of one domain in another.
7. If we take the architectural question "is function more important or form?" — or its variants such as "functional architecture is the only logical and intelligible form of architecture" — as a representative question, an opinion can be evaluated in at least two ways: (a) function is the foundation of architecture, or its most important factor; (b) form and other factors are more important.
This selection affects our subsequent decisions. But the work that emerges, after all this discussion, contains all the factors — important and unimportant — and from the existence of the work, one can recognize the position and rank of the discussion. In discussion, we usually can neither encompass nor evaluate equally the constituent realities of a work. If, in discussion and reasoning, we conclude that function is more important, then it is this emphasis that will shape architecture — except that our emphasis will be upon it. The product that emerges from this emphasis is a particular product; while in its designer's mind the emphasis on function in architecture is held, in another instance another product appears, with emphasis on form, that nevertheless still bears all the qualities of architecture, including purpose and function.
In discussion, the victory of one principle is certain, and the other principle that has been summoned into opposition is defeated and driven from the field as wrong. But in the outer world these are interdependent, and the foregrounding of one will not diminish the other. Nor will this influence deprive any work of architecture of its principal elements. Both those that are held to be more valuable, and those that are reckoned as less valuable, will participate in the making of the work of architecture.
8. Preferences and value-judgments, although related to architecture, intrinsically take their source from assumptions, aspirations, beliefs, and the particular circumstances of situations. Therefore, our understanding of architecture continually changes, and our value-judgments fluctuate. But works of architecture take shape with a coherence beyond the topics of our discussion, and are always ready for a new interpretation to be presented and to be understood in a new way.
Discussion is one of the very important factors in our understanding — provided that we do not regard understanding as entirely solid and static, and that we do not consider what we separate in discussion, and over which we pronounce right and wrong, to be similarly separated in the real world. They are, in reality, not separable.
Discussion has an effect on the construction of our mind and on our decisions; critique of architecture may have as much effect on us as creation of architecture — only on condition that we do not consider critique of architecture identical to creation of architecture. Critique of architecture, without mathematical rigour and with some indulgence, raises goods and bads for us. We grapple with them, and meanwhile, with certain decisions, we create works; and over time, each period finds a criterion, and the next period another criterion, and the creation and birth of work and concept continue.
9. If a certain compromise and lack of decisiveness is felt from this writing, it is not very troubling — because I have proposed this non-taking of an extreme and radical position in the realm of discussion and the mind. At the moment of decision and at the moment of action, no one can be found other than decisive and one-sided. If you attend to the root of the word "decision" (tasmim), you will find that after willing one matter against all others, you arrive at a state in which your ear hears nothing.
In some cases, living with contradictory and inconsistent concepts is imposed upon us, even though in the external and sensible world no contradictory thing can exist. In the artistic domain, two easy and quickly-reached but unreal worlds — absolute absolutism and excessive relativism — are mostly the first dwelling of thought. But reality has another way and is a blend of constants and variables that makes each case unique and particular.