Gadamer
Paul Kidder on Gadamer
Hermeneutics â the root of this word  is an ancient one referring to activity of interpretation. Gadamer claims that quality of traditional hermeneutics â its combination of intellectual grasp and practical application 0 is at work in the interpretation of any text, and indeed in every instance of trying to understand the thoughts and beliefs of another person or culture. Hermeneutics, in both the study of texts and in relation to architecture, holds the promise of fundamentally altering the way one thinks about interpretations, understanding, and the communication of culture.
On play. To engage in play, in Kantian sense, is to follow connections, relations, and associations among sensations, images, and ideas in a free-flowing manner, yet a manner that has a direction, that seems to be taking somewhere.
Process of Socratic inquiry, identified by term 'dialectic', has been called a kind of 'serious play'. In it there is always a tension between creativity and discovery. Creativity, as every artist knows, is playful. It requires this playfulness in order to be open to possibilities. Truth is serious, often gravely so; but discovery of truth requires, like artistry, an openness to unsuspected possibilities, so that philosophical inquiry comes to engage playfully with serious matters, yet to take even that playfulness seriously. Recognition of the constant presence of this ironic tension between playfulness and seriousness is essential, in Gadamer's view, to understanding anything about the Platonic corpus.
Genuine play in art, for Gadamer, bears this same mark of being capable of seriousness in its very playfulness. In part this is so because freedom is one of the most profound of human potentialities.
A truly successful work of art is stunning in its identity and definition; it hits one like a blow, with a distinctive kind of force. [..]Part of what thinkers do not grasp is something that Plato, long before them, understood completely: that art occupies a realm that is neither exactly truth nor exactly fiction, a realm that is neither purely known nor purely  unknown, that combines the subjective and objective in an undifferentiated way. Plato realized that this realm, which art inhabits, between the known and unknown, is the same uncanny realm occupied by every form of genuine truth-seeking. To claim with Socrates, that in spite of all one may know, on lacks wisdom and lives in ignorance, is to acknowledge that human consciousness inevitably spends most of its time in this state of the in between. [..] The work of art is never simply a record of something as it is; it is always constitutes an âincrease in beingâ. Art imitates life, then, or nature, or the world, but in a manner designed to help its viewers or hearers recognize something about life, nature or the world that they might not have grasped before.
One would be very much mistaken to see such an emphasis on the sensual qualities of particular materials in Herzog and de Meuron, or in Holl, or Pallasmaa, or Zumthor as a movement away from comprehension and intelligible significance. Such architects should rather be seen as embracing the same enigma that Gadamer finds in every work of art: mysterious interwining of endless itelligibility with endless particularity.
In an analogous way the work of art is symbolic in that it point beyond itself, but not in self-effacing way. It is a fragment of the total meaning, it is an essential but incomplete part. The grasp of symbolic meaning constitutes a realization as if suddenly coming upon something familiar. The archaic torso is a fragment of an entire ancient world, but when it speaks to one, when it makes its insisted demand, its meaning becomes not only familiar, but immediately and intimately so.
âIt emerges as an artwork only when, in the middle of its use, something wonderful shines forth, as with everything that is beautiful. The experience causes us to pause in the midst of our purposeful doing, for example in a room of a church, or in a stairwell, when suddenly we stand there and remain entranced.â
Gadamer's highly integral view of architecture caused him to lament the cultural tendency to appreciate architecture primaly in terms of its immediate visual impact. He associated this tendency with the rise of architectural photography. The excellence of photographs in making it easy to share an auditory, and kinetic imagery. The culture that was promoting a visual sense of architecture was also creating droves of tourists who simply wanted to 'see' buildings, as if the whole world were a picture book and traveling was a matter of turning the pages. The sense that the meaning of the buildings is discovered in its use becomes lost in this process. [..] One would have to spend time with a building, he thought, to discover everything that it was attempting to accomplish. But when the integral artistry of architecture steps to the fore, then everything that happens within it may seem to resonate with its power. Great structures bring their artistry to the whole of a life.
When architects say âit is not seriousâ they do not mean to denigrate play as such, but to resist the return of an aestheticism that does not appreciate the great thing to which play can be dedicated.
Recognition of historical connections emerges as a dimension adding to the depth of the work. This depth dimension unfolds progressively as the details of the building become familiar. In such moments of unfolding recognition one has the experience of discovering countless marks of the past upon the present. It forms an analogy, or an allegory, of an emerging consciousness on the effects of history.
[..] As architectural interpretation and education came to be captivated by the purely geometrical qualities of structures; as a breakthroughs in engineering brought with them their own ideals of simplicity and efficiency; and as space, time, volume, perspective, and optics came to be viewed in uniformly quantitative terms, the symbolic and poetic dimensions of design acquired a superficial status- both in the sense of being pushed to exterior surfaces of structures and in the sense of being non-essential. In his view, what has been lost, as positivistic scientism has come to dominate the culture of architectural practice, is what was most central to architectural interpretation in the age of Vitruvius: a humanistic and poetic significance â with roots deep in traditions of myth and cultural narrative- that guides the design process and suits the building to its purpose and place. For Gadamer, the older mythologies and rituals must be called back to memory- not in their own context, to be sure, as if one could turn back the clock and forget modernity- but as a poetic elements in our tradition that can ring new brilliance in the contemporary cultural landscape.
The ethic of modernism creates profound barriers to any attempt to simply return to historical styles. Every such attempt must face charges, not merely of aesthetical nostalgia, but of a socially irresponsible backwardness. Yet at the same time the modernistic ethic,a s it has unfolded in practice, has failed to realize the harmony that it sought.
[..] The emergence of architectural modernism was driven by technological innovations in materials and engineering techniques, to the point where mainstream views began to see the task of design as one of accommodating the aesthetics to the technology rather than the other way around. But this movement raised a host of persistent questions. For example, does the emphasis on the functional, mechanical nature of architecture, with its pervasive symbolization of the technological revolution per se, break architecture's ties to the humanities , and perhaps to the human dimension in architecture's historical identity? Architecture has been recruited on a grand scale in the reshaping of human communities, and architects have produced grand visions of the rationally organized city, But has architecture thereby served its proper calling, or has it been swept up in the romance of an obsessively technological age?
The idea of horizon. Gadamer has a conception of the cultural and historical horizons withing every individual and community lives. On the one hand, every such horizon functions as a limit. It delineates a set of beliefs, stories, ideas, customs, shared experiences, and dispositions that make a people who they are. Beyond the horizon are the things that they do now know  and cannot imagine, including things that they cannot even ask about because they do not know how to ask, or why one would ever want to ask. The world of this horizon will never cease to be one's origin, one's home. Within its compass are feelings, habits, sensibilities, and associations that one may never be able to entirely alter. They mark one with the stamp of a culture's history.
Yet the horizon is also the means of being open, for the culture that one assimilates, from one's youth is what makes the world familiar and life livable. Like the physical horizon, the cultural horizon functions both as limitation and as an opening to everything that transcends it.
Architects and designers know just how deep a horizon goes in the human psyche. They see it embed in language, but equally in gestures and bodily habits â the way people move withing public spaces and congregate together, the way they orchestrate their lives amid public and private spaces. The horizon is manifest in all of the feelings and images that go along with these dimensions of experience and activity. It determines which places feel comfortable and home-like and which ones require a difficult accommodation. If architecture relates to culture as the book relates to literacy, hen the architect must be aware of cultural horizons and be able to mediate them.
A person who has made a life in the world or architecture is someone in whose imagination such experience loom large. He or she has been moved- perhaps early in life- by the power of design to bring order, or peace, or fascination to life. In design the world that ordinarily seems so random and scattered, so fleeting and derelict, is brought into an exact unity that heightens the vibrancy of its sensuous presence. Such epiphanies have inspired this person to take the steps necessary to be one who produces thing with that kind of power, steps that mean entering communities â first of fellow students, then of collegues0 formed around similar experiences and inspirations.
[..] in Gadamer's view it is Enlightenment thinkers who are displaying their naivete. To think that one can magically step out of one's horizon by the mere application of a method is to fall far short of grasping the reality of horizons. Living in the resulting imaginary state that is supposedly free of prejudice, one is far more likely to be oblivious to the ways in which prejudices are actually controlling one's interpretations of experience. The very idea of a methodical freedom from prejudice functions, in other words, as a supremely distorting kind of prejudice. Key toe the process is becoming aware that one inevitably inquires from within a horizon, and that the nature of this horizon and the possibility of altering it can be fully realized only in the course of engaging with another horizon.
In the ideal case there occurs what Gadamer calls a Horizonverschmelzung, which is normally translated as the 'fusion of horizons', it is something similar to the experience that one undergoes when one can finally drop the whole apparatus by which one translated a new language into one's native tongue and one simply thinks and speaks in the new language. When this happens with regard to a whole horizon â i.e. that one can simply make one's life within it- that is when one has truly achieved an 'understanding'. Understanding, at this level, is not simply cognitive or verbal; it is existential. It alters the very foundations of one's approach to life.
Again, such a transformation cannot happen in the abstract or by simply cultivating feeling of openness and sympathy. The change comes about in the process of developing relationships and interacting in the places where different horizons hold sway. The word 'fusion' captures some of the sense of what occurs in the transformation, but the English word is limited if it suggests that the two horizons are simply bonded together. What in fact happens, to the extend that there is success, is that a third reality emerges, something that is born of the two horizons but is equally the product of the new experience and relationships that have formed. The fusion is never complete, for there is no end to the discoveries that one ca make about another individual or another culture, no end to the experience of hermeneutical recognition that one could have. But the process is limited, de facto, by the limits on our time and abilities, by the finite scope and span of our lifetimes.
Every attempt to work together, to make decisions together, to live together requires complex, often difficult efforts of understanding. To grow in one's realization of the need for understanding, to learn patience with the effort and to develop a sense of its own intrinsic rewards, to have tested principles in wide ranges of circumstances, to have called them into question and to have revised them where needed, to have built trust and to have formed friendships even within the context of contentious deliberations â all of these are signs of development in practical wisdom, a development which is more determinative of one's character and identity than skill or set of convictions could be. Ay decision that is made in collaboration with other people can benefit from the kind of understanding that involves hermeneutic awareness.
The ontology of time. A definitive claim of Heidegger's ontology is that Dasein's way of being is time, or temporality. When we thing about time, our temptation is always to imagine ourselves a stable entity moving through time, or riding along the stream of time like a floating vessel. Heidegger's Being and Time seek to shift this mentality, to say that we are not something that moves through time but something that exists, rather, as the movement itself. This means that the experience of presence (both in the sense of the temporal present and the sense of being present to the world) emerges only out of the constant movement of an anticipated future into a receding past. Presence is not a static state but is always coming-to-pass. We are never simply present to the world; our experience of presence results from the working of that which is not yet and that which no longer is- two unimaginably vast forms of absence. [..] The 'decorum' of architecture, to put it another way, is not simply an aesthetic or experiential quality, but has its roots in the temporality of being.
To conclude - the very desire to have an effect, the very structure of one's purposes, is itself something originating in the larger world of meaning in which one's consciousness is not only a participant, but a consequence, an effect. To be hermeneutically minded is, above all, to be sensitized to the working of this pattern throughout one's life and work. It is to look for the pattern, to find situations where an appreciation of the pattern might help make difference between understanding and misunderstanding.
So what is it, finally, that distinguishes a hermeneutically minded architect? It is, one might say, a kind of sensitivity â to where play might be appropriate, to where clues to solving problems may be lurking in language and historical sources, to the moments where listening might be more appropriate than speaking, the moments where on must question one's own assumptions before questioning those of others. It involves knowledge, though one could not call an architect hermeneutically minded simply on the basis of a body of knowledge. Neither is it exactly a matter of experience or skill, though again, these have their role to play. It is a manner of attending, of exploring of recognizing, anticipating, inquiring, playing with possibilities.
The qualities of the hermeneutically minded architect, one might say, intentionally recall the Socratic idea of wisdom and the circuitous route that Socrates believes one must take in its pursuit. Wisdom is not exactly a kind of knowledge, or skill, or a particular type of character, yet somehow it adds to these and completes them. Socrates was thought to be wise, but he insisted that any wisdom he possessed consisted chiefly of an awareness of his ignorance. This awareness engendered a restlessness that ran so deep as to make him a permanent seeker after greater understanding, a search pursued with the intensity of a divinely mandated mission













