Spiro Konstantine Kostof (7 de o de , Estambul – 7 de diciembre de , Berkeley) La aproximación de Kostof a la historia de la arquitectura enfatizó tanto el urbanismo y la historia antigua de la estructura de acero construcción de rascacielos". Crear un libro · Descargar como PDF · Versión para imprimir. HISTORIA DE LA ARQUITECTURA (VOL. 1) [SPIRO KOSTOF] on ronaldweinland.info * FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. 13 1. Western European architectural historiography development. 28 Spiro Kostof, A history of architecture: settings and rituals (New York: Oxford . the history of Spanish architecture, Historia de la arquitectura Española The second.
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The competition for the United Nations building in Santiago , which was won by Emilio Duhart, seems, on the other hand, to have evoked a major consensus. Architectural competitions as an institution took shape over a long period before becoming what they are today. Though there are variations on the theme, including open and invitational competitions, as well as a hybrid of the two, and competitions involving one phase of judging or more, the basic structure of the competition is a given at this point in history, and if any of the facets of the form are out of place the effectiveness and even meaning of the competition are jeopardized. The first facet of the competition process that presents itself for examination is the rules, and one article in this issue explores this point of view. Rules normally address two areas: the procedural issues administrative rules and the conditions that submissions must meet technical rules. Competition rules, as a sort of generic prefiguration of the design, must somehow overcome the resistance that architecture opposes to verbal formulation.
Clearly, architectural decisions take place in an intermediate space that is neither scientific objectivity nor subjective arbitrariness. The creation of a good jury is almost a form of art, for juries must be responsible to the interests and intentions of commissioning entities, while simultaneously reflecting the values of the profession as represented by architects with fine critical judgment.
Experience shows that prestigious architects do not necessarily make for the best-functioning jury.
Dialogue and devotion to the task are equally fundamental, and the role of the person chairing the jury can be decisive. Serious dialogue is significant not only as a guarantor of good outcomes, but also because it serves as a microcosm of the ongoing dialogue between a society and its architects. The Santiago College proposal published in this issue is one example, and the Saint George case some decades ago, though the circumstances were different, is another.
It was unfortunate that a proposal that so interestingly explored new possibilities for modern school typologies did not evoke the necessary consensus. The process subsequent to the competition can also create problems, as the case of the Smiljan Radic, Eduardo Castillo and Ricardo Serpell project demonstrates. Lamentably, however, the architects failed to thoroughly supervise the construction work. For various reasons, such situations have occurred in other international contexts as well Programmatic specifications and budget increases during construction are the most frequent reason adduced for such action Resolving this tension effectively is one of the most important challenges that architects will face in the coming years not in terms of tensions involving their personal interests or positions, or those of the architectural trade, but in terms of ensuring that architecture can give society the best of itself, and that the architect is not relegated to the position of an image provider.
Despite all the difficulties that the institution of competitions faces, it has shown itself to be quite healthy in certain areas. The competitions examined in this issue include a notable number of educational projects school and university buildings. The tradition of competitions for educational buildings reflects confidence in the competitive process on the part of commissioning educational entities, a confidence that has not only generated a series of interesting school buildings, but that has promoted continuing reflection about educational buildings in general.
The issue of urban and geographical landscape is another case.
It comes to the fore in the parque Juan Pablo II competition, which is the continuation of a project also begun via competition, and in the Scuola Italiana, where it plays a fundamental role. Although many of these ecclesiastical constructions witnessed further modifications during the Visigothic period, they mostly kept their original outline, either basilical or single nave, not requiring additional reinforcements and showing thus that structural knowledge was not improved during these centuries.
The simplicity of construction entailed also a minimization of auxiliary building devices such as scaffoldings and timber frames , which made it possible to economize on construction expenses. This saving has to be considered as well with that of the plundered but not quarried material. Within this context, sculptural production seems to be the only specialized task, representing the elements rarely worked on site e. Tolmo de Minateda. This shows how little coordination there was between builders on site and sculptors off site.
However, this hypothesis needs geological and petrological exams of the sculptured stone material to be firmly confirmed. Finally, working instruments both for construction and sculpture were fewer and simpler than in previous and later periods.
Roman drilling is not recorded in architectural sculpture, for instance, and set-square is not used either when designing the regular stone walls.
The complexity of the production activities the cycle of production of stone, of brick, of metal, of timber, etc. Structural knowledge, that is, the capacity to plan construction projects and to overcome technical problems and engineering issues,  was less necessary and so with it also the architect.
All in all, there was a reduction in the division of labor and specialization because of a lack of demand, which should be associated directly with the simplification of the Visigothic social structure. This does not mean that architects, in the classical sense of an educated artisan with social and economic status, disappeared.
Firstly, the difference between architects and builders was vague, since architects were distinguished by manual knowledge, not theoretical. The absence of architectural treatises might reflect that craftsmen were not sufficiently educated and too self-conscious about their work to write about it, since Isidore a cleric was the only reference to them in this period.
All craftsmen seem to have been masons, some more qualified than others due to previous experience, not theoretical education.
Furthermore, apart from working spaces probably situated in urban areas and devoted to sculptural production and the temporary spaces on construction sites themselves, there were probably no spaces dedicated to architectural planning.
This is an important issue since, in later periods, mainly from the late medieval periods onwards, there was a spatial construction of artisanal identity thanks to the establishment of permanent working areas. Secondly, unlike in the Roman and Late Medieval periods, architects were no longer distinguished in terms of social and economic status.
Education was part of that social status, but also visibility and salaries. The construction of buildings was, by far, the most expensive endeavor at that time and nowadays , and was, as such, extremely dependent on patronage relations.
Since most of the ecclesiastical buildings were commissioned by laymen and consecrated by bishops , it seems that workers were economically dependent on the aristocracy.
The importance of aristocratic individuals and families, also attested by the epigraphic records especially in the rural areas,  as providers of funds, as contractors for buildings, and presumably as instigators of them, was fundamental, so artisans responsible for construction must have rather dealt with the individual or family concerned than with the state or the ecclesiastical authority.
It is probable then that workers developed other activities coevally and related to these families. If so, this would be a clear break between the Roman period, in which the state was the greatest commissioner, and early medieval society, in which monastic communities were the primary motivator of building projects.
Monumental architecture and monumental architects gave way consequently in late antiquity to humble constructions and humble craftsmen trained in traditional skills, dependent on aristocracy, but lacking further theoretical and complex structural knowledge and material resources mainly those of new origin. This therefore makes it hard for scholars to speak of the existence in Visigothic Iberia of an artisanal community as a communal craft group, as will develop in later periods.
Santa Comba de Bande, San Pedro de la Mata, San Pedro de la Nave or the excavations had not been carried out in accordance with stratigraphic principles e. II , Arquitectura, ed. This affirmation is based on his study of late antique and early medieval quarries in France, but this is unknown for the Iberian Peninsula, since quarries have not been yet properly studied.
New York, ] , Edited by W. Barney, W. I contend that even the usual corpus of canonical landmarks has the potential to tell far more compelling stories—stories that foreground the interconnected nature of architectural production and practice, and the flow of knowledge, skills, and resources across regions generally assumed to be unconnected. Beyond studying buildings through their established architects, engineers, and patrons, it calls for identifying the broader historical milieu, actions, and networks within which such undertakings were conceived as well as the various actors who animated them.
For example, William Henry Barlow, who typically enters the stage of modern architectural history fully-formed as the designer of one of the engineering marvels of the s—the immense single-span train shed at St. Pancras station—in fact, cut his teeth on projects for the Ottoman government as early as the s. His first scholarly publications on lighthouse lenses, which launched his reputation in the world of engineering, were also based on experiments he collaboratively undertook with the Ottoman Armenian physician Boghos Paul Zohrab in Constantinople.
The prominent Ottoman-Armenian industrialist, Ohannes Dadian, for example, is hardly known, except perhaps to area specialists.
Simultaneously a contractor, an engineer, a factory manager, and a gifted technical inventor, much like his British counterparts, Dadian had learned engineering hands on, through apprenticeship in various mills. He first met Fairbairn in Constantinople, when the Scottish engineer had been invited to inspect the imperial dockyard and factories, and later contracted him when he visited Europe on a technical mission to study the latest developments in industrial production.
Given the wide reach of what historian of technology R. Lying outside the default circuit defined by colonial possessions and typically excluded from the canonical terrain of modernization, the Ottoman Empire was, nonetheless, firmly integrated within the expanding network of entrepreneurial associations, serving, as such, as proof of just how extensive the geography of industrial enterprise was.
Moreover, acknowledging this broader geography of activity allows us to anchor our canonical landmarks in a far more interdependent and multidirectional world than their current treatment leads us to believe.
It prompts us to espouse a process-based view of architecture, the production of which comprises a myriad of ideas and architectural agents ricocheting between places as well as a variety of obstacles and breakthroughs that are multilayered and relational, and not strictly additive. Nor does it discount the embeddedness of architecture in the specifics of place and locality.