Context is for Kings
In continuation of the study of classical architecture in England, I visited with my friends two local works of Christopher Wren: the Pembroke College and Emmanuel College Chapels. This week's question (and the question for my upcoming paper) being: Was Christopher Wren an Architect, or a Scientist?
So far, my answer is of no definition, though at the moment I would say this, that Christopher Wren was a phenomenal scientist (particularly in physical sciences and mathematics) who later developed a concentration on architecture. Without delving into the details, here's a way that I see it: it is like, in the most general terms, a cognitive scientist who later concentrated in economics. A behavioral economist or of the like at the end of the day, but still a cognitive scientist, and still very much so an economist.
Pembroke's chapel was one of Wren's earliest works, with Emmanuel coming afterwards, around 12 years later. Though of course not the "best" of his many buildings, they each are marvelous in their unique ways, and also telling of his changing growth as an architect. Pembroke, for example, contains what some people say to be one of the finest examples of plaster work in all of Cambridge. Works like these ultimately culminated in his most famous work, St. Paul's, which I also happened to visit briefly last week.
What I find so interesting, beyond that of Wren, is that often I, or we, miss these gems that are openly hiding in our sights. In many things, I always have forgotten about context. A lot of what, why and how questions that could arise, but do not. Most times it is inevitable; when we're outside we often have a purpose, a place to go to, a thing to do. We sometimes look around, and a lot of times people say to look up and enjoy the surroundings. The inevitable issue that I see is that, in most cases, the fact that we have a place to go regardless remains; our minds make us continue along the path. Therefore, what is around us can only be absorbed by what I would say is an arbitrary 50%, even if we try. Often, we have no context, we have no idea what the story could be.
Sure, there are plaques sometimes in commemoration of the object or place. Sure, some places, often memorials, are pretty clear in their message. However, those and similar instances are not collectively exhaustive. In particular with buildings, if we walk past them, more often than not we only get a glimpse of their interiors. We only evaluate them at their exterior face value at best, and even then do we often not understand what is going on. How would we even know, though, that there is some sort of significance, how would we know the story behind those buildings? How would we know the stories of our surroundings?
Instances of this type are just the way they are. It is just unrealistic to look around, pull out your phone and research what is around you. To strain your eye to look for clues. We have to move on.
The narratives fall in silence. Your shoes tap along.
Returning to the point about plaques and distinct marks of commemoration and the subsequent attention sometimes bring; to an extent, most places of public significance get at least some recognition they deserve: instagram posts, snapchat stories, tourist revenues and a book or two. However these more prominent examples are even stronger shows of something worse in my mind, the presence of context and subsequent rejection of said context. Yes, popularity of this form sometimes is important, literally. This popularity could save some places in risk, through fund campaigns and public sentiment. However, how deep is this sentiment? Do you want to preserve this narrative, because you relate to it? Because you appreciate its history? Because of its role in your history, your country's history, your culture's history?
Or because it's famous? Because we want to be recognized, innately, that we acknowledge its popularity and therefore are associated to it somehow? Associated and sharing its social currency?
That's the unfortunate distinction. This, I am aware, is a point of much contention, and I hope not to delve deep into these arguments. I also know that these places often receive much attention from academics and professionals alike. But here I am talking about the average person, you and me.
To the reader I do want to ask, if you have the fastest car in the world and know it to be so, but have never ridden it nor intend to, what value, beyond the right to claim the fastest car in the world, does it have to you? Why have a book if you don't read it?
I feel that much of these 'appreciations' of things revolve around our social status and social image, but what about what's deeper? About what defines our thoughts, our culture, what we stand for? What others have stood for?
I always felt this way when I finally stumble upon something truly perplexing and beautiful, like the works of Wren, that was always nearby. I also always felt this way in museums, particularly at the Broad museum in Los Angeles, as people walk by, glance at the work, and continue walking to take a photo of the Jeff Koon's balloon dog.
It's painful to miss treasures when context is not evidently available nor actively seeking your attention. It's even more painful when the context presents itself to us, and we brush it off.
Beyond that of art, we've always been prone to forget or ignore context to our situations, in history and in the now. Politically, economically, socially. On one end too much context can muddle your vision, but on the other end too little context can result in misinterpretations and unwise decisions. I feel the same could be applied to the above.
Context is key. However only kings will take the key to unlock the hidden treasures.
Information:
So far, my answer is of no definition, though at the moment I would say this, that Christopher Wren was a phenomenal scientist (particularly in physical sciences and mathematics) who later developed a concentration on architecture. Without delving into the details, here's a way that I see it: it is like, in the most general terms, a cognitive scientist who later concentrated in economics. A behavioral economist or of the like at the end of the day, but still a cognitive scientist, and still very much so an economist.
Pembroke's chapel was one of Wren's earliest works, with Emmanuel coming afterwards, around 12 years later. Though of course not the "best" of his many buildings, they each are marvelous in their unique ways, and also telling of his changing growth as an architect. Pembroke, for example, contains what some people say to be one of the finest examples of plaster work in all of Cambridge. Works like these ultimately culminated in his most famous work, St. Paul's, which I also happened to visit briefly last week.
What I find so interesting, beyond that of Wren, is that often I, or we, miss these gems that are openly hiding in our sights. In many things, I always have forgotten about context. A lot of what, why and how questions that could arise, but do not. Most times it is inevitable; when we're outside we often have a purpose, a place to go to, a thing to do. We sometimes look around, and a lot of times people say to look up and enjoy the surroundings. The inevitable issue that I see is that, in most cases, the fact that we have a place to go regardless remains; our minds make us continue along the path. Therefore, what is around us can only be absorbed by what I would say is an arbitrary 50%, even if we try. Often, we have no context, we have no idea what the story could be.
Sure, there are plaques sometimes in commemoration of the object or place. Sure, some places, often memorials, are pretty clear in their message. However, those and similar instances are not collectively exhaustive. In particular with buildings, if we walk past them, more often than not we only get a glimpse of their interiors. We only evaluate them at their exterior face value at best, and even then do we often not understand what is going on. How would we even know, though, that there is some sort of significance, how would we know the story behind those buildings? How would we know the stories of our surroundings?
Instances of this type are just the way they are. It is just unrealistic to look around, pull out your phone and research what is around you. To strain your eye to look for clues. We have to move on.
The narratives fall in silence. Your shoes tap along.
Returning to the point about plaques and distinct marks of commemoration and the subsequent attention sometimes bring; to an extent, most places of public significance get at least some recognition they deserve: instagram posts, snapchat stories, tourist revenues and a book or two. However these more prominent examples are even stronger shows of something worse in my mind, the presence of context and subsequent rejection of said context. Yes, popularity of this form sometimes is important, literally. This popularity could save some places in risk, through fund campaigns and public sentiment. However, how deep is this sentiment? Do you want to preserve this narrative, because you relate to it? Because you appreciate its history? Because of its role in your history, your country's history, your culture's history?
Or because it's famous? Because we want to be recognized, innately, that we acknowledge its popularity and therefore are associated to it somehow? Associated and sharing its social currency?
That's the unfortunate distinction. This, I am aware, is a point of much contention, and I hope not to delve deep into these arguments. I also know that these places often receive much attention from academics and professionals alike. But here I am talking about the average person, you and me.
To the reader I do want to ask, if you have the fastest car in the world and know it to be so, but have never ridden it nor intend to, what value, beyond the right to claim the fastest car in the world, does it have to you? Why have a book if you don't read it?
I feel that much of these 'appreciations' of things revolve around our social status and social image, but what about what's deeper? About what defines our thoughts, our culture, what we stand for? What others have stood for?
I always felt this way when I finally stumble upon something truly perplexing and beautiful, like the works of Wren, that was always nearby. I also always felt this way in museums, particularly at the Broad museum in Los Angeles, as people walk by, glance at the work, and continue walking to take a photo of the Jeff Koon's balloon dog.
It's painful to miss treasures when context is not evidently available nor actively seeking your attention. It's even more painful when the context presents itself to us, and we brush it off.
Beyond that of art, we've always been prone to forget or ignore context to our situations, in history and in the now. Politically, economically, socially. On one end too much context can muddle your vision, but on the other end too little context can result in misinterpretations and unwise decisions. I feel the same could be applied to the above.
Context is key. However only kings will take the key to unlock the hidden treasures.
Information:
- Christopher Wren's Work
- Pembroke College Chapel, Cambridge
- Emmanuel College Chapel, Cambridge
- St. Paul's Cathedral, London
- Further Readings
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