Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Architecture and Nature
Architecture and Nature
1 Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Nature,” Nature and Selected Essays (New York: Penguin,
1982).
2 Henry David Thoreau, Walden or Life in the Woods (New York: Doubleday, n.d.).
3 See James Mitchell Clark, The Life and Adventures of John Muir (San Francisco: Sierra
Press, 1949).
of life, they should learn to attend to natural things as they live and
behave in their native habitats (Fig. 2.1).5
Those who write on aesthetics have most recently expanded the scope
of their considerations from art forms to the natural environment. The
movement had its origin in Ronald Hepburn’s 1966 “Contemporary
Aesthetics and the Neglect of Natural Beauty,”6 and in this volume we
shall consider works that have appeared since then. But I want to begin
with reflections upon our place as human beings in Nature.
5 SeeLeon Kass, Toward a More Natural Science (New York: Free Press, 1988).
6 Ronald Hepburn (1966), “Contemporary Aesthetics and the Neglect of Natural
Beauty,” eds. Allen Carlson, and Arnold Berneat, The Aesthetics of Natural Environments.
(Toronto: Broadview Press, 2004), 43–62. (henceforth ANE.) The work within which
it now appears contains a significant bibliography in the notes to the introductory essay,
27–42.
2 THE AESTHETICS OF NATURE 13
Before there were human beings, there was Nature. Then human
beings came on the scene, having, just like other animals, the kind of
organs that allow the manifestation of the environment within the lim-
ited thresholds set up by the perceptual organs and in the service of bio-
logical need. This appearance, however, is only a relatively superficial
show, hiding the vast complexity and hidden powers that lie beneath the
sensory surface; getting to know more and more of these can lead to the
expansion of our aesthetic sensibility.
Animals are monopolar in their awareness, whereas humans are, like
a magnet, bipolar. As we have already noted, in the human case, sensory
experience occurs in a field of consciousness that is oriented towards the
Whole of what is. Such orientation pries each of us loose from immer-
sion in the environment and gives each of us over to ourselves to under-
stand ourselves and the world in which we live and take responsibility for
our actions. This situation produces a constant tension between the two
poles. Within that tension culture is constituted and human beings live
their peculiar lives. There is thus a dialectic, a reciprocal conditioning,
not only between Nature and culture, but also between culture and the
freely self-disposing individuals living within it. The latter are inevitably
the carriers of the culture, but can also contribute creatively to it or lead
to its degeneration. One form of degeneration is the lack of reverence for
the Nature from which we have emerged and in which we remain rooted
that leads us to consider it only as material for our projects.7
Early humans not only strove to maintain themselves in relation to
the manifest environment, they also learned to transform that environ-
ment by abstracting the notions of things from their individual instances
and re-arranging things to suit human purposes. But this was only an
extension of the coping intelligence of high-order primates. Distinctive
humanness involves some conception of the hidden Whole behind the
sensory surface. This adds depth to the essential and literal “superfici-
ality,” that is, surface character, of animal awareness. Human aesthetic
7 See Heidegger, The Question Concerning Technology and Other Essays, W. Lovitt, trans.
(New York: Harper and Row, 1977). For an approach to his “aesthetics” within the larger
framework of his work in general, see the chapter on Heidegger in my Placing Aesthetics:
Reflections on the Philosophic Tradition (Athens: Ohio University Press, 1999). So also for
the other major thinkers cited.
14 R.E. Wood
and through sensory presence, see Ronald Hepburn’s “Landscape and Metaphysical
Imagination,” ANE, 127–40.
9 The felicitous metaphor of “dashboard knowledge” comes from Owen Barfield, Saving
the Appearances: An Essay in Idolatry (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World, n.d.), 55–6.
2 THE AESTHETICS OF NATURE 15
importance of what took place within them. In any case, art arose out
of an interchange between the organically situated human being and the
environment upon which it depends. Art functioned within the overall
life of a people, rooted in the earth, in closeness to Nature.10
As we noted in the Introduction, Aristotle pointed to the twin origins
of art: imitation and delight in rhythms and harmonies.11 Our bodies
are rhythmic: inhaling and exhaling, walking and running, waking and
sleeping, being hungry and finding satiety, experiencing the beat of the
heart accelerating and slowing down. Our environment is also rhythmic:
the lapping of the waves, the alternation of day and night, the seasons,
with living forms becoming dormant, awakening, and putting forth new
shoots, dropping their seed, and slipping back into dormancy or death.
And we live in the interplay of those rhythms by reason of the harmonic
functioning of our own organisms in tune with what is given in the envi-
ronment.
Eighteenth-century aesthetics focused upon gardens and scenic views
of Nature as well as upon works of art.12 The latter became separated
from their original public sites and were relocated to museums and pri-
vate collections.13 Hegel, in his massive Lectures on Fine Art, deflected
attention away from Nature and concentrated upon what he called “The
System of the Arts”: architecture, sculpture, painting, music, and poetry.
At the highest level of artistic functioning, architecture formed the tem-
ple; sculpture presented the god; painting, music, and poetry celebrated
the divine.14 Hegel gave special attention to what he called “the high-
est vocation of art”: to display the Absolute in sensuous form, that is,
10 This is one of the central themes of John Dewey, developed in the very first chapter
of Art as Experience, “The Live Creature,” 3–19. For an approach to Dewey’s aesthetics
within the general conceptual framework of his thought, see the chapter on Dewey in my
Placing Aesthetics.
11 Poetics, 1448b7.
12 Eugene Hargrove, “The Historical Foundations of American Environmental
Attitudes,” Allen, Carlson and Sheila Lintott, eds. Nature, Aesthetics, and
Environmentalism: From Beauty to Duty (New York: Columbia University Press, 2008),
29–48 (Henceforth NAE.).
13 Dewey, Art as Experience (New York: Capricorn, 1934), 8–10 (Henceforth AE.).
14 Hegel, Hegel’s Aesthetics: Lectures on Fine Art, T. Knox, trans. (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1975) vol. 1, 83–7. (Henceforth LFA.) For an approach to Hegel’s aesthetics within
the overall framework of his System, see the chapter on Hegel in my Placing Aesthetics
(Athens: Ohio University Press, 1999).
16 R.E. Wood
1966), §112, 117. See Martin Heidegger, “The Anaximander Fragment,” Early Greek
Thinking, D. Krell and F. Capuzzi trans. (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1984). 13–58.
19 Nietzsche, Friedrich. 1967. Will to Power, trans. W. Kaufmann and R. Hollingdale.
20 Hegel, Philosophy of Mind, W. Wallace, trans. (Oxford University Press, 1977). See also
my Hegel’s Introduction to the System as a way of situating and mining the Encyclopaedia
Philosophy of Spirit/Mind (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2014).
18 R.E. Wood
them, natures are forgotten and regularly violated in a way that goes way
beyond those violations necessary for our own sustenance. Those who
still appreciate natures are “tree-huggers” who stand in the way of “pro-
gress.”
But there is another way of viewing nature. With relativity and quan-
tum physics, there is a single space–time–energy matrix within which
particles are peculiar nodal enfoldings. Taking a Hegelian theme, for
physics: “The truth is the Whole.” But for ecology, the relevant wholes
are ecosystems. One basic question is whether the ultimate explanation
lies in physics or whether each evolutionary level above the subject-mat-
ter of physics—life, sensory awareness, and reflective awareness as levels
of holistic functioning—each has its own type or types of explanation.
Physics is the ground floor whose integral functioning is presupposed in
its being subsumed by the emergent levels, and so on for each higher
level. One of the functions of the highest level, reflective awareness, is to
learn the proper modes of theoretical integration of the Whole.
There are different ways of attending to Nature. In one dominant
strain of contemporary life, Nature is simply what provides resources
for our projects. In another dominant strain, Nature is a set of problems
for theoretical mastery. In still another, as recovery from the first two,
Nature provides a refuge into which we enter in order to recover, from
our dominant activities which involve a detachment from Nature, a cer-
tain appreciation of, and union with Nature. Environmentalists still argue
for “pristine Nature” in forest preserves which are currently off-base for
businesses eager to find raw materials for their clients’ projects and their
own profit.
Aesthetic appreciation of Nature can occur in significantly different
ways. One typical way is to attend to scenic views. Nature is full of scenes
for our enjoyment: when we approach it aesthetically—it is picturesque.21
The latter term is odd: Nature is “pretty as a picture.” One would have
thought the opposite. But it suggests that we learn to appreciate Nature
from the artists who have taught us ways of seeing.22
21 Uvidale Price, A Dialogue on the Distinct Characters of the Picturesque and the
Beautiful: In Answer to the Objection of Mr. Knight (London: Hereford, 1801).
22 In one of the oddities of the history of aesthetic awareness, people used to turn their
backs to natural scenery in order to view it through the frame provided by a “Claude
glass,” named after the scenic paintings of Claude Lorrain. See J. Baird Callicott, in
“Leopold’s Land Aesthetic,” NAE, 108.
2 THE AESTHETICS OF NATURE 19
23 See Marjorie Hope Nicholson, Mountain Gloom and Mountain Glory (Seattle:
across a pond that allows only the tops of some of the trees to show
through on the other side; fresh winter snow inches deep that blankets
all and allows the fir trees especially to stand out; the power of a spring
storm, with dark clouds, some particularly threatening, showing an omi-
nous green, gathering and swirling on the horizon, periodically split by
a jagged bolt of lightning, followed by the thunder that makes the win-
dows rattle. Japanese poetry in particular is full of appreciation for differ-
ing types of weather.26
But paying specific attention to features of Nature is not the only
mode of appreciation. There is also an appreciation gained through
engagement in and with Nature,27 such as that gained by the farmer
whom Henry David Thoreau describes as catching sight of Nature out of
the corner of his eye, as it were, while he works in his fields.28 But more
explicitly, the farmer might deliberately leave wild spaces to support ani-
mal life, for example, uncultivated woods or hedgerows for small animals
and birds. His wife might typically plant flowers and a small vegetable
garden near the farmhouse. They live in Nature, cultivated and wild.
A former colleague of mine, raised with fourteen siblings on a tobacco
farm, could never understand why someone, even someone poor, gave
up the beauty of rural existence for the urban slum or the suburban
sprawl.29
Back-packing is another such engaged mode. In this case, all of the
senses are involved, not simply seeing, as in the appreciation of scenic
beauty. We see the various life forms and their differing, changing shapes,
colors, and textures. We hear the moaning of the mourning dove, the
howling of the wolf, the trickling of a brook, the roar of the ocean, the
wind singing through the trees, the leaves crunching beneath one’s feet,
the sound of deer running through the brush. While we are moving
through the terrain, we smell the scent of flowers, pine trees, molder-
ing leaves, the pungent odor of a skunk, or the freshness of an ocean
breeze. We feel the hardness of the rock beneath our feet, the sponginess
munity. See, for example, Life is a Miracle (Washington, DC: Counterpoint Press, 2000)
which culminates in the family farm.
2 THE AESTHETICS OF NATURE 21
of the forest floor that gives way under our steps, or the sliding of the
sand through which we plod. When we pitch camp there is the smell
of the campfire, of coffee brewing and fish frying. If one lives off the
land, there is the taste of berries and roots, of fish and game. One picks
up and handles pine cones, oddly shaped rocks, animal skeletons, or sea
shells and smooth stones on the beach. But such a relation to Nature
typically occurs as a vacation from city life and not as the constant pres-
ence enjoyed in its own way by the farm family prior to the rise of agri-
business.
Being out in Nature, participating in it with all our senses, can ter-
minate in a feeling of oneness with it.30 Even when working with it, we
may be brought up short by the startled deer who dashes away into the
brush, or by the hawk circling above, or by the peculiar way the rays of
the sun come through a clearing in a dense forest. One might be struck
by the profusion of life as one observes its absence above the timberline
on a high mountain. A friend of mine—the one raised on the tobacco
farm—told me of one of his most powerful aesthetic experiences: that of
the sun shining upon a spider’s web against the background of a metal
shed.
One might also bring to the encounter with Nature some understand-
ing of the natural processes involved in the things we encounter, be it
the terrain, the flora or the fauna in a region, or the geological layers
that lie under the observed surface.31 How was the terrain shaped over
millennia by the forces of Nature—earthquakes, winds, glaciers, and riv-
ers? The raw force of Nature can be seen in earthquakes, the tsunamis
that follow, the floods, the hurricanes and tornados, the forest fires. Such
extraordinary interruptions in the way humans cling to the earth force us
to confront the balances in the four traditional elements—fire, air, earth,
and water—requisite for our ordinary routines. One can come to realize
how the earth’s crust floats on a lava core which pushes up through the
great cracks in the ocean floor to move the tectonic plates upon which
we too float. The pressure exerted along the cracks in turn pushes the
plates against one another with such force that they not only create the
mountain ranges, but occasionally slip along fault lines producing earth-
quakes which send out ripples of the earth’s crust parallel to the way in
which the shock waves of a tsunami move across the water surface at the
speed of a jet plane. One might appreciate the magnetic field generated
by the earth’s core and the ozone layer which shields us from much of
the harmful rays generated by the sun. One might also come to appre-
ciate the precise distance from the sun required for life as we know it
to survive: too close and the earth would be too hot for life to appear
and flourish, too far and it would be too cold. One could meditate on
the fact that someday the sun will reach a red giant phase, expanding to
encompass the solar system and destroy our planet along with the others
in our system. All of this can evoke a sense of contingency in all our eve-
ryday security.
When it comes to particular creatures, what is the typical life cycle and
behavior of the bear we spot in the forest? We might experience even
greater amazement if we are aware of the developmental cycles of the
specimen we are observing. Understanding such things might serve to
mediate and deepen the immediate sensory relationship. We might know
that the bristle-cone pine tree we are observing on a California moun-
tainside had its origin about the time of Moses—that is, over 3000 years
ago. It stood by as the history of humankind unfolded and generation
upon generation rose and fell, like waves on a beach, back into the earth.
Here it is not only a matter of a beautiful surface presentation: the sense
of temporal and sub-surface depth one brings to bear upon it deepens
one’s appreciation.
But, on the other hand, objective knowledge is not the same as aes-
thetic appreciation. For the former to effect the latter we must return
from reflection to immediacy, learning to mediate our immediate rela-
tion to the sensory surface by bringing to bear upon it what we know
from other sources. Directly parallel to this is the certain knowledge of
our own mortality which might sit in our minds alongside other objec-
tive facts, but which can also transform our immediate encounter into
a “vision” in which we “realize” or make real—or are made to realize
what we otherwise only know in a purely objective mode. It is medita-
tion, “emotion recollected in tranquility,” that furnishes the basis for
our being present to what we know only in an objective mode. It is the
invoking of such presence that is the special task of poetic awareness. It
2 THE AESTHETICS OF NATURE 23
32 Heidegger speaks of things in the world of scientific technology as having “lost their
being” to become mere data on hand for our manipulation. Introduction to Metaphysics,
G. Fried and R. Polt, trans. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000), 66. Gabriel Marcel
speaks of restoring to things their “ontological weight.” Existential Background of Human
Dignity (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1963), 63, 74, 79.
33 The Phenomenon of Man (New York: Harper, 1959), 31–6.
34 Ibid., 53–66.
35 Science and the Modern World (New York: Free Press, 1967), 75–94. Whitehead was
following in the direction indicated by Leibniz that things considered “from within” are
unconscious perceptions and appetitions. Monadology and Other Philosophical Writings.
Robert Latta, Introduction and trans. (London: Oxford University Press, 1951), §§14–
21, 224–31. For a presentation of the basic conceptual scheme of these two thinkers,
see the chapters dedicated to Leibniz and to Whitehead in my A Path into Metaphysics:
Phenomenological, Hermeneutic, and Dialogical Studies (Albany: State University of New
York Press, 1991).
24 R.E. Wood
36 Martin Buber, Between Man and Man, R. Smith trans. (Boston: Beacon, 1961), 15.
37 I and Thou, W. Kaufmann trans. (New York: Scribners, 1970), 136–7.
38 Personal communication. Weiss wrote three books on the arts: Nine Basic Arts
(Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1961); The World of Art (Carbondale:
Southern Ilinois University Press, 1961); Cinematics (Carbondale: University of Southern
Illinois Press, 1975).
39 For those interested, my own sculptural work is presented and discussed in an appen-
One might have a particular fondness for flowers, which one can
observe not only in their natural surroundings, but also in an arboretum
or in one’s own garden. One learns to arrange them as cut flowers to
enhance a room. The Japanese are especially adept at floral arrangement.
One might have a particular fondness for birds that leads one to search
them out in their various habitats, following their migratory patterns,
watching their development from eggs to egg-laying adults, and observ-
ing them foraging, preening, mating, and caring for their young.
The naturalist studies the behavior of various animals, eager to under-
stand how they do the things they do and zealous in protecting their
habitat. They learn to track the movements of animals by radio transmit-
ters, both in order to understand them better, and to learn how to pre-
serve them in their habitat.
The fisherman loves to be on the water. As Ishmael noted in Moby-
Dick, “Water and meditation are inextricably wed.”40 And as Thoreau
elaborated, a lake “is the earth’s eye; looking into which the beholder
measures the depth of his own nature.”41 The lake or the pond or the
ocean is a symbol of human life: it has a surface and a hidden depth. It
has the mystery of what might be the largest fish within it.
My sons and I used to fish a gravel pit at different times of day and
under different conditions. The water surface changed frequently,
through the lapping of its waves in the breezes and the frothing up of its
waves in higher winds, through its glassy reflection of the environment
on a calm day, but also its changing moods in different states of darkness
and light, or when shrouded in mist that allowed glimpses of the trees on
the other shores. My youngest son and I used to play a catch-and-release
game to see who could catch the most bluegills in a local pond. Many
fishermen catch and release even some of their larger catches, since they
learn to appreciate the fish apart from the fish fry.
The hunter also goes into Nature. But whereas in earlier times hunt-
ing was the source of daily fare and winter provisions, now it exists for
the sake of entertainment, or trophies, or just delight in wanton slaugh-
ter. But a hunter may also occupy a kind of in-between position, not kill-
ing beyond the legal limit, but also learning to appreciate the stateliness
40 Herman Melville, Moby-Dick or The Whale (New York: Modern Library, 2000).
41 Walden, 160.
26 R.E. Wood
of the stag and the quality of the woods within which he hunts, like the
deer hunter played by Robert de Niro in the movie of that name.42
However, Holmes Rolston III said:
Those who go out and kill for fun may have failed to grow up morally;
sometimes those who object to any killing in nature and in human encoun-
ter with nature have not grown up either biologically or morally…. The
hunter feels not ‘perfect evil’ (Krutch), but ‘perfect identification’ with the
tragic drama of creation….Hunting, a seeming sport, has sacramental value
because it unfolds the contradictions of the universe.43
Such is oftenest the young man’s introduction to the forest, and the most
original part of himself. He goes thither at first as a hunter and fisher, until
at last, if he has the seeds of a better life in him, he distinguishes his proper
objects, as a poet or naturalist it may be, and leaves the gun and fish-pole
behind.44
When I was a young man we used to run rabbits in the snow and
chase them down with clubs. We would clean them and cook them; but
that was not a reason, only a rationalization. When we captured one, we
would twist its head off to let the blood drain out. We were told that was
better for the meat. But one time when I took my nephews with me and
we caught and killed a rabbit, I asked myself why I wanted to destroy
such a beautiful little creature. That was the last time I hunted. Two of
my sons have learned to hunt with the camera.
The appreciation of Nature might also occur through gardening: get-
ting to work in the soil, entrusting the seeds to the darkness of the earth,
watching the amazing development of plants and trees from small begin-
nings, observing the cycles whereby each living thing articulates itself,
blossoms, and bears its seed, only to give way to the next generation.
Care for one’s lawn, for shrubs, for trees, and for gardens with vegetables
and flowers, might bring one into a participative relation with natural
processes and might lead one to consider the human life cycle. Observing
Nature over longer periods of time gives us an image of our own lifetime:
growing, flourishing, reproducing, dying, and living on in our offspring.
This sets up a kind of reciprocity, each analogue enhancing the other.
Considering Nature as an analogue to our life cycle is a metaphoric
approach that enriches the experience. I remember being on the shore of
the Pacific Ocean, seeing the rhythmic swells of the waves rising, hitting
the shore, and slipping back into the sea, and was reminded of the breath-
ing of some great monster that could awaken and turn violent. That
experience could have been the basis for a piece of lyric poetry, if I had
the ability to develop one. Notice that one is not distracted by turning
to something else—the sleeping monster—but is in fact tuned in more
carefully to the sea by the metaphoric parallel. This mode of metaphorical
“seeing as” deepens one’s appreciation of the object that evokes it.45
Such experience with living processes might make one exasperated, as
I am, at imitation plants and flowers. People want the surface look, but
not the appreciation of the observable processes and underlying func-
tions, hidden in darkness, and not the work it takes to care for the plants.
The gardener, like Hegel’s slave, advances well beyond the capacity for
power and pleasure that belong to the master in order to better appreci-
ate our insertion into Nature by working with it.46
Photography can be a tremendous aid in learning to focus appreci-
atively upon the world around us, natural as well as man-made. From
the indeterminate possibilities afforded by a given subject, it selects an
angle and a framing that maximize an ordered appearance. Eric Fromm
used to complain that taking a camera along when sight-seeing tends
to alienate you from being immersed in what you see, and that you
tend to think in terms of how you might show others the trophies you
accumulate.47 Though there is a point to this caveat, bringing real pho-
tographic competence to a trip can enhance attentiveness and yield a
45 See Emily Brady, “Imagination and the Aesthetic Appreciation of Nature,” ANE,
162–3.
46 Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit, A. Miller, trans. (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
Middle Ages,” and the appendix to the Plato chapter in my A Path into Metaphysics.
2 THE AESTHETICS OF NATURE 29
51 Frederick Law Olmsted, “Public Parks and the Enlargement of Towns,” a paper read
before the American Social Science Association at the Lowell Institute, Boston, February
25, 1870, The Public Papers of Frederick Law Olmstead (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1997), 171–205.
52 The DVD Rivers and Tides gives a good sample of Goldsworthy’s work. There are sev-
eral books dealing with his work, one of the best being Andy Goldsworthy, Hand to Earth:
Andy Goldsworthy Sculpture, 1976–1990 (New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1993).
30 R.E. Wood
Fig. 2.2 Andy Goldsworthy, Rowan leaves with hole. Japanese maple leaves
stitched together to make a floating chain the next day it became a hole supported
underneath by a woven briar ring Ouchiyama-Mura, Japan, 21–22 November 1987
are peculiarly directed, preparing for the next generation to follow our
inevitable demise (Fig. 2.2).53
53 See Martin Heidegger, “Building, Dwelling and Thinking,” Poetry, Language, and
Thought, A. Hofstadter, trans. (New York: Harper, 1971), 49–51; cf. also, in the same col-
lection, “The Thing,” 172–82. We will look at the built environment, other than architec-
ture, in Chap. 10.
32 R.E. Wood
Japanese maple
leaves stitched together to make a floating chain
the next day it became a hole
supported underneath by a woven briar ring
OUCHIYAMA-MURA, JAPAN
21–22 November 1987
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http://www.springer.com/978-3-319-57089-1