Showing posts with label Hungarian Architecture Book. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hungarian Architecture Book. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

Narrative of Retirement Redux Again. . . .

Me with statue of Odon Lechner at his Church at Kobanya in Budapest
About two years ago, I wrote a post asking what is thenarrative of retirement?  Then last year, I asked the question again, what is the narrative of retirement redux?  I am now beginning my third year of retirement, and I am posing the question anew.  What narrative path am I on?  Where am I headed?  What is my story?  How do my days move, like a narrative, towards something, rather than just feeling like "being one damned thing after another.”

In Retirement Year 1 (2014-2015)--I still live by an academic calendar—we had a series of adventures.  In May, we went to the Southwest and did some of our favorite hikes and National Parks.  Then we went to the lake, where we stayed til autumn.  After we got back from Louisville, we got ready for our trip to Budapest for three months.  Then right after we got home, we went back to the lake.

Retirement Year 2 (2015-2016) began at the lake, where we stayed til December because a friend was renting our house for the fall semester at UofL.  So we saw some winter.  We came home to what eventually became the Year of the Move.  We bought a condo, went to Budapest for a month (having no idea when we planned it that we would be in the middle of a huge transition), got our house ready to put on the market (doing a lot of what our realtor called “deferred maintenance”), cleared out our house of 27 years of stuff (oh why did we save so much?), moved our belongings into our new condo and took possession of said condo.  I didn’t have a lot of time to worry about the Narrative of Retirement, because I was too caught up in the Narrative of Downsizing.

However in the fall of 2015, I made a decision that part of my Narrative of Retirement would be writing a book about Hungarian Architecture  that I would self-publish.  I spent a lot of the summer figuring out how to format a book for publishing online, as well as working on an outline of the chapters, and writing the first chapter, on Historicism.  I also began the second chapter, on Art Nouveau, but when I got back to Louisville I dropped working on it because of all the business connected with buying and selling a home.  But I am still committed to it; it is a big part of my retirement, and this summer I will finish the Art Nouveau chapter and begin the chapter on Odon Lechner.

Retirement Year 3 (2016-2017).  I am beginning my third year of retirement, and this is what I have learned so far.  There is not a single narrative of retirement (I’m sure I knew this already), but lots of stories that one lives in retirement—or any other phase of life.  In the first two years, there were a bunch of medical narratives (none of lasting seriousness but some a pain at the time); several trips, (and as all good narratologists know, the “road” is primary narrative structure); lots of reading, often going on “kicks,” such as reading about climbing in the Himalayas, Arctic exploration, head-hunting in Papua-New Guinea, American prisoners of war in Japan, and Bog People. There was also shared reading with Tony (Tom Jones in Y1, Ulysses Y2, and Little Dorrit coming up in Y3). Plus, of course, reading lots and lots of novels just because.

And there is writing.  Deciding to write a book has given me an important sense of direction.  It makes my trips to Hungary more purposive.  It organizes my otherwise rather inchoate interest in the topic.  And it gives me a very strong goal.  Writing has always been a mixed pleasure for me (hate to write but love to have written), but this book is something different.  It’s not for peer-review; I will do that myself.  It’s not just for pleasure, as it offers to tell an accurate history, but it is a pleasure. And for me, it is a kind of necessity: as I really need a goal and I need to have writing in my life.

I have also learned that I love being retired.  I am so lucky that I have one wonderful dissertation student left, but that’s enough for me.  Higher education is changing so much everywhere, including Kentucky, UofL and the English Department, but I was lucky enough to have a career during a relatively stable time (aside from the inevitable budget crises):  I knew what I was expected to do, and I knew how to do it  I don’t think young academics today are as lucky as I was.  I love the freedom retirement brings. 

What’s up for Year 3?  5-ish months at the lake.  Meeting my family for Thanksgiving and going to see Hamilton in Chicago.  Another trip to Budapest in February (research!).  Settling into life in a condo (and finishing unpacking boxes).  Learning what it’s like to be in Louisville.  (I still haven’t quite figured out what the Narrative of Retirement will feel like there).  And of course other stories yet to be realized. 

#Retirement
#NarrativeOfRetirement
  

Monday, November 16, 2015

Hungarian Architecture Book: Chapter 1. Historicism. (Or What I Did on my Summer Vacation).



I have spent a good part of the summer drafting the first chapter of my Hungarian Architecture book.  It's not completely done (and I did promise I would get it done before left, and maybe I will. . . . )  I am posting the first section.  The next sections will be Eclectic Historicism and New Possibilities for Urban Development.  In many ways they are more interesting than this first section, but they're not ready to show anyone.  I would love to get feedback from anybody.  Sorry the format is so wonky.  It's been formatted for Kindle and it's hard to cut and paste it to blogger.  Also I have to edit for typos, etc.  So, here goes. . .


1.    Historicism:  Hungarian Architecture 1848-1900.

In 1848, as part of the larger European revolutionary movement, Hungary challenged its status as part of the Habsburg Empire.  In  1849, Hungarian forces were defeated.  As a result, the new Habsburg emperor, Franz Joseph, dissolved the traditional Hungarian administration and tried to absorb Hungary into a politically homogeneous Empire.  Hungarians reacted mostly with passive resistance.  Among other ways, this resistance shows up in the architecture of the second half of the nineteenth century. Spurning Vienna as an architectural model, Hungarians instead turned to other western European architectural traditions.

Hungary had throughout its history borrowed major architectural styles of western Europe, including French Gothic, Romanesque, Italian Baroque, and Neo-Classical.  In the nineteenth century, it returned to these style--not to recreate the past, but to use and transform older styles in order to create a new sense of national identity. 

The time was right for Hungary to establish its identity as a European nation in its own right, and not just a part of the Empire.  In 1872, Buda, Obuda, and Pest were joined to form the national capital city Budapest.  A few years later, the 1876 Compromise resulted in the Dual-Monarchy of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, personified in Franz Joseph, called Emperor in Austria and King in Hungary.  The 1876 Compromise gave Hungary its own national government (except for foreign affairs which it shared with Austria), a parliamentary democracy, and a liberal political and economic ideology.  Additionally, it reunited Hungary with Transylvania, a region essential to Hungary’s sense of itself as a nation. This political stability brought about an economic boom unparalleled in Hungary’s history, resulting in growth in infrastructure and industrial development.  Concomitantly Budapest’s population grew, going from 30,000 in 1872 to almost  1,000,000 by 1900, resulting in an unprecedented building boom.  In the midst of all this growth and development, Hungary wanted to define itself not simply as an adjunct to other countries, but as a nation in and of itself.  Part of that desire is manifested in its architecture.

Historicist Styles.  Prior to the end of the 19th century, stylistic purity made it possible to distinguish among “neo” styles of Hungarian buildings, such as neo Classical, Gothic, Renaissance, or Baroque.  In general, Classicism was connected with civic buildings, Gothic with sacred buildings, and Baroque with palaces and villas.  Hungarian architects turned to these historicist styles because they believed Hungary lacked a national style of its own.  Imre Steindl (1839-1902), a professor of architecture and later architect of the Hungarian Parliament argued in his inagural at the Royal Joseph Technical University (later the Budapest Technical University), argued in his inaugural speech that “there is no trace anywhere of a national character for architectural forms applied in stone” (qtd. in Sisa, p. 14).  Thus, the official validation of Historicism. 


The greatest figure of post 1848 historicist architecture was Miklós Ybl (1814-1891).  Ybl built many of Budapest’s most important public monuments, including the neo Italian Renaissance Hungarian Opera House (Fig, 1.1) and the neo-Classical St. Stephen’s Basilica (Fig. 1.2).  He was also a prodigious builder (and entrepreneur) of “palaces” for Hungary’s aristocracy.  The Károlyi Palace is a beautiful example of Italian Renaissance, Ybl’s preferred style (Figs. 1.2-3).  Ybl’s work presents, for the most part, a kind of pure historicism, in which he adopts a specific style, usually Italian Renaissance.  However, the goal of such work is not simply to preserve the past.  Rather, Ybl’s grand buildings show Hungary’s aspirations—political, ecclesiastical, and aristocratic—in the second half of the 19th century: the face it wished to present to the world. 

Figure 11.  Hungarian Opera House (1867-1891: begun by Joszef Hild and finished by J. Kauser).  Miklos Ybl. 



Figure 12.  St. Stephens Basilica (1851-1905).  Miklos Ybl; completed by Jozsef Kauser.
Figure 13.  Karolyi Palace(1863).  Miklos Ybl.


Figure 14.  Detail of the gate,  Karolyi Palace (1863).  Miklos Ybl.

Ybl’s most important contemporary was Friges Feszl (11884) who was also an historicist architect.  Feszl’s  work, however, was less historically “pure,” and contained hints of the future.  Feszl was trained in Germany and used the German rundbogondstil (Romanesque rounded arches that also vaguely suggested the "east"--the purported origin of Hungarian people). Feszl also collected  drawings of what he called "Hungarian motifs."  Feszl's most famous building, the Vigado (or Assembly Rooms, now a concert hall) features a facade that gestures towards Byzantine or vaguely "Moorish"  style.  And on the north side of the building are enlarged copies of “vitezkotes, the ornamental cord of traditional Hungarian costume (Sisa, "Hungarian," 175).  (Get picture).  In his evocation of  Eastern styles and Hungarian folk motifs, Feszl is considered by some as a precursor to Odon Lechner (see Chapter 2.)

Fig. 1.5.  Figure 15.  Vigado (1860-1865), Frigyes Feszl.


The question of the search for a national style came to the fore in 1860-1862, during the competition for the Hungarian Academy of Sciences when it developed into a “national polemic” (Sisa, Lechner, 13).  The major theorist in this debate was Imre Henszlmann (1813-1888), an architect and one of the first historians of architecture in Hungary.  (Feszl did not present a theoretical argument for his choices in the Vigado).  Henszlmann specifically advocated neo-Gothic as the style for public buildings.  This was a hotly debated issue because, on the one hand, many felt that Gothic was appropriate only for religious buildings, and, on the other, many argued that the potential for a unique Hungarian style existed and should be developed.   In response to this competition, Henszlmann gave lectures and wrote papers in defense of neo-Gothic.  His rationale was that Gothic flourished in the Middle Ages, which was Hungary’s golden period, and that he did not believe Hungary had a national style.  Others responded, arguing that a national style did exist, whose origins were “oriental” and best reflected in the Byzantine (Rundbogenstil) manner.  In the end, neither side won, as Count Emil Desweffy, the chair of the committee , preferred Venetian Renaissance and awarded the competition to the Prussian architect Frederich August  Stuler (1800-1865).  (For a fuller discussion of the tension between historicism and national style, see Sis, "Hungarian.)GET PIC

The tension in historical styles is evident even in the premiere national building of the nineteenth century: the Hungarian Parliament.  The contest to design Hungary’s Parliament was issued in 1882.  The commission was awarded to the  historicist advocate and architect Imre Steindl.  Steindl offered the following rationale for his choice, repeating Henszelmann’s argument that the Gothic corresponded with Hungary’s golden medieval past:  “While designing the Parliament, I made no attempt to create a new style; such a monumental structure, built to survive centuries, cannot display ephemeral details.  I rather strove to implant national and individual spirit into the majestic style of the Middle Ages, as art always requires, in a modest and careful manner” (qtd. in Moravansky, p. 68).  There was much dissent.  However, the planning committee for the new Parliament endorsed Steindl’s rationale:  “Gothic is not a national style; but since we have no national style, [the committee] agrees to select this style of not German but French origin, to represent the most majestic ideals of freedom and power” (emphasis mine; qtd. in Moravansky p. 68).  


Figure 16.  Hungarian Parliament (1885-1904).  Imre Steindl.

But while the Hungarian Parliament does borrow from French Gothic, it is not stylistically pure.  The Gothic elements, for example, suggest the quasi-religious character of the promise of parliamentary democracy but are at odds with the building’s baroque size and arrangement of the interior spaces (particularly the dome).  Akos Moravanszky argues that “the difficulties of adopting Gothic structural elements and details to the baroque principles of spatial and mass composition arise from the symbolic program” and cannot “be explained as an adaptation of a historic model to solve a new building task.”  Rather (like the new Viennese Parliament), the Budapest Parliament “appear[s] as didactic assemblages, presenting history as seen from a rearview mirror that condenses the view into a compact scope.”  In particular, the “Gothic of the Budapest Parliament was a clear rejection of Ringstrassenstil and a reaffirmation of the reformist goals of Gothic revival with all its  associations of joyful labor, craftsmanship, and national virtures.  But finally it was the baroque principle of theatrical special arrangement of fragments as parts of a new spatial identity that dominated. . . . “ (69-70). The signature building of Hungarian Historicism thus signals not only the historicist program, but also points to its constraints as Hungarian national goals developed in the twentieth century.  Hungary, however,  did not immediately reject historicism.  Instead it combined historical styles to create new aesthetics and functional possibilities. 

Next up:  Eclectic Historicism.  



Monday, January 26, 2015

What Does Research Look Like When You Are Retired?



Dome of Szeged Syngogue.  Lipot Baumhorn architect.



When I tell people I am going to Budapest for three months, some of them look a little puzzled.  I think that is partly because Hungary (especially in the winter) is not the kind of obvious place to do a big retirement trip in the way France, Italy or the UK might be.  But I hope if you follow along with me on this blog, you will get a sense of why Tony and I love it so much.

When I say three months in Budapest, I often get a follow up question: "are you going there for research?"  Well, this is actually a complicated question that is difficult to answer.  No, I am not going there to do research of the sort I did when I was a working academic.  But yes, along with indulging in a whole range of other pleasures, I am going there to follow a research-like trail. If you have been reading my blog, you will know I am fascinated with Hungarian Secessionist architecture.  This fascination is grounded in aesthetic pleasure, but it is not just that.  I want to know about these buildings: their history, context and meaning.  I am hindered in my quest by my inability to understand the Hungarian language (and at this point in my life have to accept that this will always be the case). But I have done as much as I can: reading research written in English on Cental European architecture, hunting around the internet, asking friends who are knowledgable.

The main form of my research, though is looking carefully at buildings, taking pictures, and sorting pictures.  I have taken--literally--thousands of pictures. And in the act of looking, recording, sorting, I have built my understanding of how these buildings "work" inductively, following what perhaps might be called a kind of naive grounded theory.

I have been engaged in research and scholarship all of my adult life.  And that work has always been geared towards some kind peer-reviewed, academic publication.  What does research look like or even mean if it does not result in some kind of product?  And does that product have to be peer- reviewed for me to invest in it?  Would it be satisfying enough to put my (mostly picture) research on the web and hope that interested people will find it? Or do I have to find some kind of "publishing" outlet?

These questions may seem esoteric or even silly to some people.  But they are questions I have been pondering a good deal. Many people, I know, are continuing the research they did before retirement.  At the moment, this doesn't appeal to me.  So is there another kind of research I can engage in, and what would it look like?