Boris Stoyanov
What does Function Follow?
UF SoA | Columbia GSAPP
2021 | 2025
Arches, vaults, and domes arose to overcome the technological limitations of their time. Architectural forms associated with a style or epoch emerge from necessity, determined largely by their intended function. Classical elements, during their continuous development and implementation, revolutionized structural possibilities. These were novel solutions to the extremely difficult structural problems concerning bridging overhead spans. The resultant architecture was wildly experimental, itself departing from the established vernacular.
These elements were once radical, not nostalgic.
In 125AD, the only way to span a 43m opening was to build a dome across it. The form of the Roman Pantheon was a radical solution to a seemingly impossible structural question. Arches were equally necessary for the construction of thresholds and fenestrations in masonry. Without access to modern building technology, the necessities inherent to a site often dictated the form of the architecture. When the function of these structural elements is removed, the intent is lost entirely– relegating these forms to the realm of artifice and ornament. So why are the arches and vaults and domes of antiquity revisited and relitigated despite our new technology? Technology that would have rendered the forms of the Romans extinct, if only they had access to it? Is there a greater architectural folly than stripping Form from Function?
The Pantheon, 118-125AD. Rome, Italy, Section Lithograph through Dome.
Great buildings are defined by an often forgotten catalyst in the relationship between Form and Function. If Form follows Function, then function too, must follow something. One could argue that Function follows numerous processes, but these can be distilled. The spirit of what Function has to follow is genuine Meaning. Meaning, in short, is an underlying truth that precedes all transcendent architecture. Form follows Function, Function follows Meaning. Whether or not this ordering of the stages in the conceptualization of architecture is always accurate, is irrelevant. What is relevant is that Meaning is always the underlying motivation for either, or both, Form and Function.
To attempt to define Meaning specifically is far beyond the scope of this paper. Entire lifetimes are devoted in search of this definition, and this search has birthed religions, philosophical movements, and political revolutions. Meaning is impossible to universally define with any specificity, yet simultaneously, paradoxically, Meaning is immediately understood when it is encountered. Meaning is a deep and bubbling– almost primordial– truth, struggling to surface. When it does, it makes itself seen only briefly. Or perhaps we simply lack the capacity to hold onto it. Regardless of its nature, to build with Meaning is to build with the intent of cementing a fleeting truth into something permanent. To capture the most abstract and immaterial of ideals into an architecture is an inherent juxtaposition– tasking material to encapsulate the highly immaterial. Yet countless successful examples of this improbable relationship all throughout human history exist. No one style is any more conducive to Meaning than any other– it is about intent rather than aesthetics.
Meaning is a constantly shifting and amorphous entity– its specifics depend entirely on historical context– yet it tends to have spiritual underpinnings. Meaning has, historically speaking, almost always been derived from religion. This is not at all to imply that all Meaning-driven architecture originates from religious practice. The earliest remaining monuments likely predate religion, as it is commonly understood today, by thousands of years. They are commonly thought to have been cosmically oriented, seeking truth in the observable universe. This communion with the cosmos is where some of the earliest Meaning for humans was derived, across cultures all around the world and during dramatically different epochs. Despite these cosmically oriented origins, the bulk of architecture commonly considered “transcendent” is of a religious nature. These are very conducive grounds for the incubation of Meaning, as every religion believes itself to be the truth, and seeks to actively materialize this truth.
Meaning still exists in post-religious western societies, albeit much less frequently, as truth-seeking architecture is not as profitable as a mixed-use development. Because of the overtly capitalistic direction of the contemporary west, Meaning now lives largely in the avant-garde margins, emerging into the built environment only under the most serendipitous circumstances. Suprematism, Futurism, and Deconstructivism, along with many others, are all movements that fall within this categorization. Suprematism centered on the supremacy of pure feeling and the spiritual transcendence they felt came alongside it, achieving that through abstractions that expressed immaterial truths (PLATE 2). The Futurists glorified vitality, speed, and progress of modern life– often through the destructive mechanism of war– and manifested these ideals through dynamic motion (PLATE 3). These movements are undeniably impactful because of their adherence to seeking Meaning– which was characterized in the 20th century by philosophical exploration– more so than their formal qualities. The formal radicalization was a direct result from the Meaning they sought. The very forms that made them so intriguing would not have existed had it not been for their philosophical underpinnings.
Kazimir Malevich, Suprematist Composition Airplane Flying, 1915.
Umberto Boccioni, Unique Forms of Continuity in Space, 1913.
When the original Meaning of a form is stripped away, especially in the reproduction of classical styles, they lose their essence and appear artificial. Form divorced from Meaning, more than Function, is where this artifice is most heavily felt. And if we collectively feel the artifice inherent in Form stripped away from its Function, then the psychological disconnect present when Meaning is stripped from Function is visceral. If stripping Function relegates an architecture to mere ornament, then stripping Meaning renders architecture entirely soulless.
Perhaps the most potent historical example of formal radicalization as a consequence of grappling with Meaning comes in the form of Gothic architecture. Gothic architecture is today viewed as historical canon, with all its sharp experimentation weathered away to a knub by the sands of time. Gothic architecture was just as radical in its time as early Deconstructivism was in its time– philosophically, technologically, and in the extent of departure from its corresponding historical precedents.
Why? What about the Gothic was so radical? Sure, the will and desire to push structural limits and the corresponding innovation to achieve new heights was present, but this within itself was not the essential motivation. These desires could not have been arbitrary– nothing that takes centuries to complete can be arbitrary. Structures are pushed to their limits in extreme ways to this day, perhaps best exemplified by New York’s Billionaire’s Row, yet the motivations for doing such are on opposite ends of the scale. These include a show of power, capabilities, status, or plain self-indulgent humanism. While factors similar to these might have been a partial motivation during the Gothic era, the main motivation was something essentially forgotten in the post-industrialized mind. The true motivation was to get closer to the Holy. It is critical that this is understood not as a function, but as a deep, almost primordial calling answered through countless generations of material sacrifice. The Europeans of the Middle Ages spent lifetimes to build something communal in which they, alongside their fellow man, could get closer to God. This was the highest Good, entrenched with as much Meaning as possible, that they could possibly conceive of, and they sacrificed everything to actualize it. This striving towards the highest possible Good is so charged, that the inertia of that ideal can propel it through centuries. The Köln Cathedral took 632 years to complete. That is over 30 generations in permanent communication and communion with one another. This is a practice that creates trans-generational bonds, sentimentality, and religious significance so deep that it can never be truly uprooted. This creates real community and Meaning in ones life. There was a collective understanding that to push higher was inherently worthwhile because it resulted in an architecture entrenched with Meaning. As a result, this Meaning is so clear that it immediately crystallizes to anyone present, even if they are entirely removed from the history of the specific architecture.
This is something inconceivable to the post-industrialized mind.
Köln Cathedral, 1248-1880. Cologne, Germany.
Photographed after WWII– a strong metaphor for Meaning.
Photographed after WWII– a strong metaphor for Meaning.
The Gothic epoch was not unique in its pursuit of Meaning. The structures of the Romanesque period also often show us incubated versions of these same ideas beginning to manifest. The comparatively radical expression of the Gothic period is not because they were seeking a more potent Meaning than their predecessors. Rather, the quantitative buildup of the preceding epochs led to a relatively sudden qualitative jump in building technology that then afforded further experimentation, which resulted in the “style” now referred to as Gothic. This was the maturation of the culmination of generations of pushing in a few hyper-specific directions. This evolution could have just as easily gone into another, entirely different aesthetic direction. Also important to remember is that Gothic itself is not one stagnant historical movement. It shifted and morphed relatively rapidly– rapidly enough that is was not uncommon of one Cathedral to be composed of three entirely different epochs of Gothic architecture. Entirely new forms had to be conceived of and actualized in order to achieve their lofty ambitions, resulting in highly stylized outcomes to further emphasize the core underlying Meaning.
The Meaning sought during the Gothic period manifested itself into a few fundamental structural ambitions. Their most important axiom, arguably, was to build as tall as possible. They believed that this was both an emulation of the Heavens, and an extension into the Kingdom of God. This hyper-specific goal pushed the building technology to its absolute limits. All forms today associated with the Gothic period are a direct result of this push. The culmination of this collective effort was the tallest structures in the world since the pyramids, and were not eclipsed until well into the industrial revolution.
If the architecture is given the opportunity to articulate its reasoning, it becomes clear that its physical qualities serve as a conduit for its metaphysical motivations. Take the columns as the most base example. While it is impossible to peer directly into the minds of the Gothic builders, if the idea that they sought Meaning before all else is maintained, then the exaggerated fluting exists for one primary reason– maximal structural efficiency, an efficiency that afforded them greater height. This stylization was an articulation of the load path of the arches and vaults, and removed all structurally unnecessary material. This was not an arbitrary aesthetic decision. The careful management of the mass of Cathedrals was paramount in maximizing their height. Just as the Pantheon utilized progressively lighter concrete as its dome grew higher, the Gothic builders approximated topographical optimization in their building logic. This movement happens to emphasize the height of the space through strong linear moves upwards, resulting in an exaggerated verticality. This was to their benefit, as it further aided in the reading of their Meaning.
An introduction to the study of Gothic architecture, illustration from An Introduction to the Study of Gothic Architecture, by John Henry Parker (Oxford: J. Parker and Co., 1877).
Catenary Arch (diagram), inverted catenary curve showing the ideal form of an architectural arch based on the hanging‑chain curve, 2023. Wikimedia Commons, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Catenary_arch.png.
The same structural efficiency for the sake of height underpins the Gothic arch. The development of the pointed arch was an interstitial stage in the discovery of the catenary arch, which is the mathematically optimal form for matter in compression. This was again necessitated by the added mass these arches needed to carry, directly corresponding to the added height of the buildings overall. Again, the decision was not a primarily aesthetic one– rather one that created a material juxtaposition that highlighted the intended Meaning. An obviously heavy, earthen, material acts as if it were light. The very Earth was lifted into the Heavens through this act, both making it light–weightless– and bringing it to the light– Holy– resulting in an immensely ethereal space.
This maximization of light was another crucial Gothic ambition. In this epoch, light was seen as the manifestation of God– an incredibly logical extrapolation when considering the amount of times God is associated with light in the Bible. Just briefly– God is light (John 1:5), God created light (Genesis 1:3), God dwells in unapproachable light (Timothy 6:16), God covers himself in light as a garment (Psalm 104:2). Light is a revelation (Psalm 119:130), guidance (Psalm 119:105), salvation (Psalm 27:1), and life itself (John 1:4). Christ is the light of the world (John 8:12, 9:5, 12:46), and the Holy Spirit is depicted as light with incredible frequency. Light’s significance is immediately obvious, both as a spatial driver and as a metric for morality. The associations between Holiness and light are an endlessly deep well of Meaning in a culture so thoroughly entrenched in Christianity.
This fixation on light directly birthed the Flying Buttress– moving as much structure as possible outside maximizes light within. With masonry, the biggest obstacle in the usage of light was the large quantity of required to actually have the building stand. Not only did the arches that held these windows need to be at an adequate distance from one another, the walls needed to be deep– well over a meter in the base. This was immense mass both latitudinally and longitudinally. Because of this, there was generally little light in early Gothic cathedrals, and even less possibility for direct light because of the depth of wall. The solution was to gradually move the structure to the outside, and to have it serve as a scaffolding of sorts for the comparatively minimal interior structure it afforded. While rudimentary Flying Buttresses existed well before the Gothic period, none ever approached the degree of filigree utilized in this era. This degree of delicateness was necessary to block as little light as possible– a complete subversion of previous masonic logic, necessitated by the desire to actualize Meaning.
The belief in this Meaning was so strong that the Function of the space fundamentally shifted. No longer was the cathedral a hermit-like ascetic cave. It had metamorphosed into a matrix of light, full of impossible and unattainable color, supported by a structure that seemed to defy gravity. Meaning was explored and followed so thoroughly that it birthed a new typology. St. Chapelle in Paris is among the most palpable examples of this intense development down a very specific path. Had there not been the structural questions, derived from an underpinning spiritual pursuit of Meaning, these forms would have not emerged.
Sainte-Chapelle, 1242-1248, Paris, France. Photographed by Boris Stoyanov, 2022.
Through the lens of this analytical framework, Gothic Form is almost entirely a direct result of Meaning. Of course, there may be the interstitial step of Function, but these stages in the conceptualization of architecture are ultimately indivorcable from themselves. The exact relationship between Form, Function, and Meaning, however, is debatable. It would be tidy if it were the case that Form exclusively followed Function, and if Function exclusively followed Meaning. However, the complexities of these historical processes render such neat categorization unrealistic. In an undefinable ratio relative to the aforementioned relationship, Meaning performs a quantum leap over Function and influences the Form directly. Form can follow Meaning as directly as Function follows Meaning. This is all dependent on the architecture, and there are strong arguments for both pathways in almost all cases.
Ultimately, the resultant forms were profoundly radical, yet would not have been had Meaning been absent. Deconstructivism emerged in the late twentieth century as an architectural movement that rejected formal stability in favor of exposing the fractures, tensions, and concealed forces inherent within structures, sites, and cultural narratives. This early intellectual Deconstructivism was deeply Meaning-driven, and it is, in many ways, the closest thing to Gothic architecture, philosophically, to have emerged within the past 50 years. Coop Himmelb(l)au’s Falkestrasse Rooftop, one of the first Deconstructivist buildings, was undeniably radical in 1988– a radicalization manifest purely through strict adherence to a Meaning of their own creation.
Rooftop Remodeling Falkestrasse, Vienna, Austria, designed by Coop Himmelb(l)au and completed 1988. Image from Coop Himmelb(l)au website, https://coop-himmelblau.at/projects/falkestrasse/.
Coop Himmelb(l)au’s first manifesto from 1971, Architecture Must Burn, defined the Meaning they sought in their early work. This ethos is best encapsulated in their statement “we want architecture that bleeds, that exhausts, that whirls and even breaks.” That is, Coop sought an architecture that expressed the underlying tensions typically suppressed by the normalizing hand of standardization. They, just as the Gothic builders, wanted to cement a fleeting immaterial truth into something permanent. Falkestrasse was not as much “designed” as it was a manifestation, or more accurately, an eruption of the invisible underlying latent forces present both in the existing structure and in its immediate context. It captures, freezes, and emanates a singular moment in an energetic release from the forces inherent in the structure. To draw a parallel to Newtonian physics, Coop Himmelb(l)au transformed potential energy into kinetic energy.
This moment of translation is summated by Wolf dPrix, co-founder of Coop Himmelb(l)au, as “a visualized line of energy (that) breaks open the existing roof.” This “line” is the manifestation of the energy coming from the street. This line, like all other lines, is a vector– in which both energy and direction are present. In Falkestrasse, both originate from the street. A line can also slice like a scimitar. It can be a fault line, a rupture. A singular kinetic event that erupts from underlying potential. The line is the mechanism through which this matrix of Meaning is expressed. This line literally becomes the “taut arc”, the primary structural member, which then serves as both armature and datum for the architecture.
Within this line of energy, collisions and contradictions were also sought to be exposed.
According to the same manifesto, Architecture is laden with countless internal conflicts. Every time material meets material, a conflict arises. In this way, all architectural details can be considered as nothing more than solutions to these internal conflicts. In revealing these details, the building then becomes true unto itself. Extrapolating this logic to the scale of the building, Coop wanted architecture to “show its conflicts” and not to mediate or domesticate them. A line is exposed and legible– anyone can read its origin, its trajectory, and its action. It resists cosmetic smoothing. The normalizing force of standardization in architecture, driven primarily by industrial processes, neutralizes all underlying tensions in the work– whether social, programmatic, situational, political, or otherwise. By neutralizing these tensions, there is a masking of their significance– the true nature of the situation is made opaque. Therefore transparency– the act of exposing this collision– becomes a highly ethical decision, where legibility about cause and direction, rather than suppression, reveals the Meaning.
Truth in architecture, according to Coop Himmelb(l)au, is found where forces clash. To conceal these clashes is to annihilate a building’s Meaning. By exposing collision, the building serves as a log, a measure, a document, a memory, a record of contention, rather than a meek reconciliation of forms.
The line of energy sliced the pre-existing roof in a manner counter to its initial structural logic. Rather than attempting to reconcile this by changing the orientation of the roof, which was the far easier solution, they decided to embrace the formal gymnastics necessary to reinforce and stabilize this roof so it would remain in its unstable position. The more difficult approach, on every level imaginable, was taken in order to reveal the internal conflicts.
Falkestrasse’s forms are a pure result of Coop Himmelb(l)au’s philosophical underpinnings. The aesthetic was never sought– it was the result adhering to the Meaning unconditionally. Falkestrasse shows the tearing, torquing, lifting, and folding which is a result of inherent internal conflict. Form as an aesthetic object was totally irrelevant to Coop, except as the accidental byproduct of force and collision they were exploring. Form was merely the outcome.
These radical manipulations were driven by Coop Himmelb(l)au’s beliefs, just as St. Chapelle’s structural extremism was. Neither of these two buildings expressed for the sake of expression. They were pushing to discover a way to manifest their ideal into the physical, and a new language emerged from that grappling. One happened to grapple with its contemporary philosophy, the other with its contemporary theology.
The true inheritance of Western architectural tradition is not in the forms that it has generated historically, but in its endless experimentation in the pursuit of Meaning. In an innovation guided by an almost spiritual search for truth and purpose.
Considering this, shouldn’t the very architects who fetishize Western architectural traditions strive to push the boundaries of structural possibilities and to challenge the preconceived philosophical notions inherent in architecture, rather than merely imitating centuries-old forms that have already achieved this, but in a wildly different historical context? Isn’t this headlong rush into the unexplored and untested the true spirit of our architectural heritage?
Gothic architecture, just as Deconstructivism, could have taken countless structural directions, but it happened to evolve in the formal direction it did. None of this evolution would have taken place had the underlying Meaning not been the engine. If contemporary architects wanted to create a building with the spirit of a Gothic cathedral, they ought to strive to seek the Meaning it sought, rather than to replicate its form exactly. The characteristics which we, in the post-industrialized era, reused in Neo-Gothic architecture lacked any of the spiritual and philosophical underpinnings that elevated Gothic to such a transcendent height to begin with.
Historical rebirths are very rarely about the Meaning of the model epoch. In most cases, they are an aesthetic reproduction. We as humans have this tendency for pattern recognition and the emulation thereof. It is inherent. Imitation is nothing new– Vitruvius speaks about it in his Ten Books. This temptation to imitate Form predates the actual oldest text on architecture in existence. But the most impactful and longest-lasting architecture comes as a direct result of resistance to this temptation. Gothic architecture drew from the historical well, but it resisted enough to innovate. It was not a strict emulation of pre-existing architecture, but the synthesis of spiritual Meaning with a material plasticity adequately developed enough to express it. When this formal imitation is avoided, it is commonly believed that only the pure function of the building remains. However, this creates engineering, not architecture. To create great architecture, we must look to Meaning.
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