Why We Should Not Categorize Morris and Gaudi

William Curtis makes a cogent argument in the very first words of Modern Architecture Since 1900 when he says, “There is a tidy and misleading analogy between history and human life which proposes that architectural movements are born, have youth, mature, and eventually die” and that “the historical process which led to the creation of the modern movement in architecture had none of this biological inevitability, and had no clear beginning which can be pinpointed with precision.” (Curtis 21)

This is a vital jumping off point when discussing any sort of cultural, philosophical, or scientist movement. Just as The Pixies and Talking Heads did not fit snug tight into the go-go 80’s music scene, a musical movement that slipped into the pejorative before reemerging in fashion more recently, and the Marquis de Sade’s Misfortunes of Virtue, Justine, and 120 Days of Sodom; works which can either be seen as the degenerate ravings of the French ruling class or as the vanguard of modern literature, malevolent works of violent eroticism which would eventually lead us to the likes of Phillip Roth and Erica Jong could scarcely compare to the gothic works of Anne Radcliffe or Matthew Lewis, the architecture of Gaudi and Morris cannot be tidily dissected and sorted into whatever shorthand version of Reform Arts & Crafts or Art Nouveau is en vogue at the moment.

As a matter of personal preference, I am reluctant to accept labels altogether. For one reason, I find that our need to classify and categorize is a direct function of our tendency to dismiss out of hand complex ideas- seeing as how Morris’s devout Socialism is scarcely recalled when looking at his elaborate wallpaper designs, or his Red House mansion and Gaudi’s fantastical and erotic architecture emerged from, and perhaps as a result of Gaudi’s asceticism- but who would know that when visiting la Sagrada Familia? After all, it is now a building in captivity and not an organic functional work. It certainly has not become what Gaudi anticipated.

I feel that we do these men and ourselves a great disservice by conflating their unique perspectives and ideas into movements which are in and of themselves artificial and hard to define. Sure certain Morris creations bore the weight of their “thinginess”, a term as ill-suited to describe his finished works as any other word you could summon- but the true quality of his work lies within the margins of an ideal not quite born in reality and not quite capable of coming to fruition- high quality expert craftsmanship of a caliber that only the wealthy could afford is not socialist, as much as it is an affectation of a socialist ideal.

Gaudi’s carnivalesque Casa Batllό (1887) with its colorful walls and fenestrations adorned with railings that resemble party masks undoubtedly inspired a generation of surrealists. There is a Disney quality to his architecture- or should I say there is a little bit of Gaudi in Beauty and the Beast and the Little Mermaid. As with Morris, lumping Gaudi in with a school diminishes his work. It denies us the chance to take him on as an individual, with influences to be sure, but as a unique perspective.

I have always felt that the difference between architecture and construction is the “why” and the “how”. Great works are neither easy to conceive or to realize. The greatest artists in design all tended to die poor and anonymous- taking with them their vision- the spiritual difference between a box of windows and doors and a revered work. To categorize everything may make it easier for us to organize bits of trivia and objects- but I find that it makes it harder for us to truly see them.