"Ask the brick what it wants to be - it wants to be an arch" - Louis Kahn
My favorite building material may be brick; but like many builders and architects, I don't often have the chance to use it in a way that highlights its inherent qualities and potential. I need to work on that.
Architect Louis Kahn's appreciation, endorsement, and application of brick are known worldwide. As a student 25 years ago, I learned that, as with so many materials and methods of construction, the history of brick is a history of mankind.
Nine thousand years of man firing clay into hand-sized units has left a rich, tangible, historical record visible all over the world. Today we call bricks stretchers, headers, rowlocks, soldiers, sailors, and shiners depending on how they're laid. There are standard, modular, oversized, and roman-sized bricks. There are also walking soldiers and standing soldiers. Combined with many shapes and sizes, good design, and the capable hands of good masons, great buildings result.
The old Pension Building in Washington, DC is a fine example. It's now appropriately the National Building Museum. My wife, Molly, and I frequently take our kids there for various exhibits or demonstrations, and once in a while I'll catch a lecture there. Bricks are everywhere in the building - and everywhere purposefully and positively used. The massive atrium columns, too, are made of brick, though they're covered with a faux-painted plaster veneer. Outside, inside, on the floors and in the steps bricks were carefuly laid and have ever-so-gracefully aged.
The interior steps struck me the most on our last visit. My children love playing on them. A strange, natural, universal attraction compels them to walk, sit, crawl, run, and jump on the steps. Built with a deeper-than-normal tread depth and shallow riser height, I once heard that they were designed to make it easier for the Civil War's wounded and crippled men to ascend. Wide and shallow, the staircases can carry a horse and its rider up and into the building. If so, it's a wonderful, early example of accessible design.
The building's friezes tell the story. My children quickly pointed out to me that in the sculpted figures wrapping the building, many men are bandaged, walking with crutches, missing arms and legs. Kids notice these things. When my daughters Helen and Joan asked "Why?", I began an unworthy attempt to tell them how those men had fought a horrible war to keep our country together. Nonetheless, it was a nice opportunity to present a little history to little people; but as I began, the image of my own children became transposed into the sculpted frieze of mere boys exposed to the worst violence that man may have ever seen - and it stopped me in my tracks.
Looking down lay juxtaposed my own children's small feet against the warm, worn brick steps hollowed and hallowed by the feet of those soldiers.
So it is that brick has a way of recording our history and heritage that few, if any, materials can similarly document and display.
When I next look at a soldier course, I hope to reconsider that bricks can do so many things well. In his own words, Mr. Kahn admits to searching for "a poetic way of saying 'know your material, don't push it to do something it doesn't do well.' " Yes, Kahn loved the arch; but it was about much more than that to him. The arch offers shelter and carries weight over a distance, but it's well-worn steps that carry us through our lives.
I think Louis Kahn knew that, too.