On the Mediated representation of architecture

Review

Gerard Houllard

The subject of this treatise is the pictorial representation of architecture as a mediated depiction. An attempt will be made to highlight some aspects of the significance and impact of the image of architecture, in contrast to its actual form of expression as a three-dimensional material object. The focus on the reception of architecture through images has some justification, as the visual and pictorial representation seems to have become the dominant mode of dissemination of architecture; thus shaping the discourse within the field of visual studies. […]

IV. The Cardillo case

The Roman scholar Pliny recounts the tale of the two ancient painters Zeuxis and Parrhasius, who engaged in a painting contest. Zeuxis painted a picture of grapes, depicted so convincingly that birds flew in to peck at them, mistaking them for real grapes. Parrhasius then presented his rival with his own work, an illusionistic masterpiece. When Zeuxis attempted to lift what he believed to be a curtain concealing Parrhasius’s painting, he realised that the curtain itself was painted.⁠ Parrhasius had managed to deceive not only irrational creatures but also an artist and connoisseur.⁠

With that same convincing and seductive power of images, the young Italian architect Antonino Cardillo (born 1975) began his career. Four years ago, the architecture magazine Wallpaper* named Cardillo one of the thirty most important young architects in the world. Subsequently, other major architecture magazines such as build and H.O.M.E. also published Cardillo’s designs. Crucial to these publications was the fact that Cardillo led editors to believe that all these buildings actually existed. In reality, however, they were perfect computer simulations of designs, none of which had ever been realised. Cardillo deliberately created computer images whose digital, fictional character was apparently not recognised as such even by experts, as in the case of the House of Convexities,⁠ which was never built.⁠

The case, featured in a 2012 article in the German weekly magazine Der Spiegel,⁠ clearly demonstrates the relevance and urgency of using digital images in architecture. The production of such images has been common practice in architecture, design, and engineering since the 1990s and is widely used as a simulation of reality.

In recent years, technology has improved to the point where the once perceivable boundary between artificially produced images and representations of real objects has dissolved. These computer images, known as “renderings” in technical jargon, can often no longer be distinguished in quality from photographs.

As the legend of Zeuxis shows, the deception of the human perceptual apparatus through the virtuoso mastery of artistic means was already tested in antiquity and apparently applied successfully. In art history, the French term “trompe-l’œil” is used for illusionistic paintings that deceive the eye by giving the illusion of three-dimensionality. When such painting is used inside a building to create the impression of a dome or vault on a flat ceiling through perspective, as was often the case in the Baroque, it is referred to as illusionistic architecture. These illusionistic architectures optically extend the real space and astonish through their spatial-illusionistic effect on two-dimensional or curved surfaces. For theatre, too, both constructions and pictorial designs were used to create artificial stage space with optical tricks. In all these examples, however, even if often only on closer inspection, the distinction between illusion and reality was always recognisable; the visual deception had its limits.

In the virtual world, the step from visual deception—which can still be verified on the real object—to the abusive use of a digital image is short. The architect Antonino Cardillo could not resist this temptation, but it is obviously dangerous to deceive architecture magazines with images that pretend to depict something real. Thus, the above-mentioned Spiegel article is titled “Impostor”, comparing Cardillo to Thomas Mann’s fictional character Felix Krull, and referring to the “story of an almost successful staging”. Cardillo, thus unmasked, also shows remorse, saying that he did not feel “quite right”⁠ about the whole affair.

The premature praises of an apparently promising young “star” mainly demonstrate the professional magazines’ hunt for the next idol to celebrate. It is also the pursuit of the perfect image that seems to disregard any journalistic research, leading ultimately to embarrassing revelations for both the architect and the magazine. Once published by a professional journal and thus “ennobled”, the images are uncritically taken up by others and rapidly spread worldwide on the Internet: a hype ensues. In Cardillo’s case, too, the Internet played a central role. “There were rarely personal contacts. Much was done via the Internet, via chats”,⁠ the architect describes his contacts with magazine editors. It could have been noticed that all the “photographs” he presented were always his own. Cardillo could also never provide the names of clients, a discretion that seemed justified by the fact that they were private houses and remained unquestioned. Finally, Austrian architect and publicist Peter Reischer exposed these supposed photographs as merely digital designs of buildings.⁠

It is important to note that it is not the image itself that presents the problem, but the labelling of the image object as something other than what it actually is. Correctly labelling the images as “designs” would not have caused any confusion but would probably have prevented their publication in professional journals. This discrepancy between image and caption, which belong together and in this case were created by the image’s author, leads the historically trained observer directly to the crucial field of source criticism in historical sciences. Besides written sources and oral traditions, images are also considered sources, although for the historian—at least until a few decades ago—the image was considered less important and interesting than writing. This is not true for the art historian, who has always dealt with figurative traditions. The value of images as sources also seems to be increasing for historians, as British cultural historian Peter Burke tries to demonstrate in his work “Eyewitnessing: The Uses of Images as Historical Evidence”. In the introduction to this book, Burke does not fail to warn against the ideological dangers of historiography and historical reception, quoting his colleague Edward H. Carr: “Study the historian before you begin to study the facts.”⁠ By analogy, he concludes: “Similarly, one could advise anyone wishing to use the evidence of images to first examine the various intentions of the respective image producers.”⁠ A simple and clear observation that was not followed in the case at hand.

Source criticism generally questions the quality and reliability of a source, as well as whether it can provide the necessary information to a sufficient extent. It raises the issue of the accuracy of a source’s data, its plausibility, and examines it for contradictions. The use of the Internet for both scientific and non-scientific work also requires a specific Internet critique, which partially overlaps with classical source criticism.⁠ Image criticism should be applied to all types of images, including digital ones. This case teaches: if digital images themselves can no longer be trusted, the information associated with them must be examined all the more carefully. Only the consistency of the relationship between image and caption or description can be considered reliable information.

Although the architect is uncomfortable with the whole affair, he justifies his behaviour by referring to the importance of virtual and unbuilt architecture for architectural history.⁠ He states: “Why should an idea be lost just because there is no client?”⁠ This could also be the argument of a utopian architect who deliberately works without clients and considers his designs as utopias. In fact, Cardillo is essentially right in claiming that images of unrealised and utopian architectures can become an integral part of architectural history and significantly influence it. The difference with Cardillo, however, lies in the important fact that these utopias are also declared as such.

Antonino Cardillo, House of Convexities, Barcelona, 2008.

Source

• Gerard Houllard, ‘Über die mediatisierte Repräsentation von Architektur’ (pdf), IACSA Newsletter, vol. 4, no. 1, Basel, May 2013, pp. 8‑11.