ABSTRACT

All material systems are, by denition, networks of assemblies whose scales range from molecular to urban. But due to its metaphorical boundaries, the architectural monolith requires a unique repression of its aggregate systems. Issues of surface discretization and material precision are uniquely important. e monolith, rather than allowing an expression or indexing of its part-to-whole relationship as an alibi for technical ineptitude, or a desire to express its “complexity,” must suppress it. What emerges is a material system that must be precisely calibrated to mitigate the tensions between a smooth, uniform surface and a faceted, fragmented surface. Rather than solely quantitative decisions, made by material or geometrical determinism (which are still important), material and tectonic decisions must also be made within the scales of human experience. In this case, issues of resolution and perspective are of increasing importance. Evidence supporting the monolith’s experiential subjectivity in nature lies in the geologists’ tendency to avoid the term “monolithic,” based on its nebulous boundaries, even within the realm of science. Certain rock formations may appear “monolithic” from one side to one observer, for example, while an opposing face of the same structure may appear distinctly “un-monolithic” to another. is inconsistency in perspective makes the integrity of the monolith’s abstract form even murkier because it highlights the fact that geometric rationalization is only one aspect of an object’s corruption. In addition to issues related to human perception, the application of narrative and meaning onto architecture is an unavoidable consequence – magnied in the case of the monolith. Because the monolith is tectonically inscrutable, its workings hidden and unknowable, it deects and dees contemporary architectural readings and analyses (see above) and represents (for me) a forced redirection of current architectural issues. Instead of a discourse on parts and performance, the monolith’s indexical void allows a broader range of architectural readings and analysis. Of particular interest to me is the way myth and narrative oen ll this void. e Pitjantjatjara interpretation of Uluru is one of many examples of creation narratives attached to monoliths. e application of narrative to architectural monoliths is well documented; one of the most interesting cases is the churches of Lalibela, Ethiopia.2 Formed through a process of extraction and subtraction, the Lalibela churches are pure in their material smoothness. e part-to-whole relationship is non-existent. Even the process of their construction imbues the structures with ambiguity. Due to a technique of extraction, the original form of these structures can never be known. Is their current form the rst iteration? Or the last in a series of alterations? Questions such as these, le unanswered even by archaeologists, have only helped perpetuate the mysteries and mythologies surrounding this complex of structures. I oer these mythological antidotes, not because I am interested in architecture as a purveyor of myth, per se, only because they acknowledge the possibilities of an object’s corruptions, when architecture allows for readings outside of those that currently dominate architectural discourse.