The documentary film, "Visual Acoustics," about the late Julius Schulman is a must-see. I was impressed with the subject's singular focus; and early childhood development of that same focus (however unclear the target may have been in the early years). It is clear that the world has lost an important and extremely talented man due to his death last year. The title refers to comments made by Schulman referencing his talent for controlling the visual noise surrounding the subject(s) in his photographs. Schulman is known for creating the iconic images of modern architecture; especially his photograph(s) of the Pierre Koenig Case Study house.

"Visual Acoustics" was presented in conjunction with some of Schulman's photographs (from his archive) of buildings in San Diego; courtesy of ModernSanDiego.com. I was fascinated to learn that many of the photographs are of wonderful buildings now razed. An additional group of photos was of mid-century architect-designed homes about which there seems to be no current record. Many of these homes were built in Rancho Santa Fe; an exclusive suburban San Diego community known for its lack of street addresses. Frankly, no-one knows if these notable homes exist, or in what state they exist, as they are referenced by PO Box address only.

This brings to mind a question about the ownership of architectural designs. And this question, ultimately, references back to the debate about the definition(s) of architecture. If a private individual with construction talents builds a purpose-built chicken coop, according to the vernacular tradition of chicken coops in the particular region in which the chicken farm resides, is it architecture? If one builds a very large "chicken coop," using the same structure system, bedecking the nesting shelves with velvet theater seats, and suspending great chandeliers from the crossing point of the truss, or from the ridge of the ceiling to light the space (subsequently called a theater), is it architecture? If one builds the earlier mentioned vernacular chicken coop in Times Square in New York City, using the nesting shelves as bunk beds, and the structure as shelter for the homeless, is it architecture?

When, really, does a structure or a building become architecture? It has been said that the definition requires "design with aesthetic intent." This amplifies the process, certainly. I am not certain that it clarifies the situation. Clearly, aesthetics is in the realm of subjective considerations. Is this definition referring to the aesthetics of the builder? For example, the economy of means used in assembling a building might be of aesthetic value to the builder. So is a cheap building that is quick to assemble, using little means, architecture?

Or, does the "aesthetic intent" refer to that of the possibly-unschooled designer whose misguided attempts at beautification might include the re-presentation of some architectural detail borrowed from another time, another climate, another structural system, or another material. As witness: look around San Diego at all the "Tuscan" influences in buildings great and small. Then go to Tuscany and see the real thing (One should be amazed at the difference). Faux this-and-that is no substitute for the real things, used in simply honest ways, with indigenous materials. So, clearly, the idea of "aesthetic intent" has no calibration for error: intentions might be noble and the results disastrous.

Back to the Schulman photographs of now "lost" San Diego buildings! At the point at which our rather fickle and fluid culture defines a building as architecture (allowing for the gray areas as above) who owns that architecture? Does it belong to the pantheon of architecture reaching all the way back to the ancients? At what point does the architectural value supersede the real-estate value and become worthy of preservation, documentation, and rescue? Does architecture always subject itself to being razed in the interest of progress (however defined)?

At what point does the glimmer of an architectural idea (or ideal) get the respect of renovation; hopefully consistent with the original design intent? As contrasted with razing and transferring to waste in a land-fill, is there a respect that is due a building which has, until said point in time, faithfully and willingly served its purpose?

I am reminded of a project I once worked on (in another state) where great lengths were taken to preserve the original character of an historic home. The home was not protected by registry; still the (then) owners' preference was to respect the design intent of the original architect. Built in another century, the Edwardian-style home was updated with respect for the original fittings and details including: 1) remaking the knives which cut new moldings to match those which were original to the structure, 2) and having new brass hardware custom cast in newly made molds so that hardware matching the original door handles could be used on all the new doors, 3) a custom door manufacturer was solicited to create matches to the solid wood doors used throughout the original structure, 4) Copper gutters and valleys were extended by old-technology roofers so that the slate roof would appear consistent and preserve the craftsmanship of another era, 5) antique tile details were matched in new materials so that the indoor swimming pool could look as though it had always been there, 6) an expensive, imported conservatory was added to the house with careful attention paid to antique tile details and lighting that might have been utilized at the time of construction of the original house, 7) a custom wall covering printed by Bradbury & Bradbury was utilized to fill the frieze space above custom detailed cabinetry designed to mimic the glass covered bookshelves in another space in the home, replete with matching hardware, 8) old-technology Rumford fireplaces were hand-built of masonry to match specifications from another era, and so on, ad-infinitum...

I have heard that the house has been recently gutted by a new owner who, owing to the spectacular siting of the home, and their taste for contemporary design, wanted a contemporary style home in that setting. Who owns that architecture? And further, by what right is the disposal of all those materials (let alone hours of design intention) justified? It comes down to the same old question: By what right does the driver of a Hummer utilize more precious resources than the driver of a Prius? And, at what point does the common good unseat the power of cold hard cash?

Again, I digress! So back to the point of when a building becomes architecture, how is that architecture held in trust? Or is architecture always subject to the whims of the real-estate title holder? I am perplexed. And I would love to see the responses of the gentle readers of this blog.