The secret language of architecture: Are Libraries just places for books or also symbols of something greater?

Further to my previous comments about my fondness for libraries, I recently came across an article written by the Brazilian Catholic intellectual Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira.

It had previously not occurred to me to consider the spiritual, almost moral, implications of architecture. I liked a building or I did not, and thought no more about it. But, having read Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira’s comments, I have begun to recognise that I am much more affected than I ever thought possible by the architecture, atmosphere, and ambience of particular buildings.

There are some buildings where we cannot help smiling with delight as we enter them. We recognise its beauty, graciousness, light and comfort. Or even just its little quiet, protected spaces for solitude, and peace. But others are of such utilitarian ugliness, and functional minimalism that we simply ‘switch off‘. Increasingly, we simply do not ’see’ our environment.

But back to libraries! Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira says that there are two ways of considering a library. One can view it purely in terms of its practical function i.e. to protect books, magazines, documents, etc. from humidity, fires, and thieves. And the materials must of course be organized efficiently so that information can easily be found.

He gives as his example the building that houses the library at the University of California in San Diego - a very impressive modern building, and one which the University is very proud of. As can be seen above, it is composed of four successively taller stories, and looks like an immense 'chest' with four different-sized drawers designed to neatly organize several different types of objects.

But is this sufficient? If we compare this building to something like, say, the Library of Congress, in America - or the library of Coimbra, Portugal, to which he himself refers, we can see what Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira means when he says that there is represented in such libraries “another conception of the ideal building for a library. While it meets every practical requirement, it also satisfies a higher objective -- (it) express(es) the fundamentally noble aspect of reading and studying. The building corresponds to a hierarchy of values that places thinking at the height of human activities, preceded only by prayer. Thus, the building should have, a regal magnificence to the degree possible.”

Unlike the functional design, “the books are here splendidly bound and arranged in huge, solid bookcases, numbered so they can be easily classified and found. Employing all the modern methods of our epoch, this library is completely "functional." But, on the other hand, the magnificence of its decor makes it seem like both a palace and a church.
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The building serves not only the practical objectives of protecting papers, parchments, and bookcases; it also fills a spiritual objective, which is to highlight the prestige of the intellectual in the natural order, and, consequently, in the hierarchy of values of temporal society.”

So, what is ’wrong’ with the University of California Library, or indeed Yale University’s Beinecke Library of rare books and manuscripts? Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira says that it is the conception behind the design. A library should be more than a place for book storage. It should, in some way, pay tribute to the intrinsic nobility of intellectual life. “Nobility is not a strictly functional value, and, therefore, it cannot be completely or adequately expressed only in terms of efficiency or bigness. Mere efficiency is suitable, perhaps, for industrial buildings, where production dictates the whole architectural design. However, it is not for buildings destined for ends that transcend the mere practical domain, even while they serve a practical purpose.”

I have spent some time thinking about his article, all the more because I had never considered the matter in this light before, and I have come to the conclusion that he is correct. Architecture surely should be more than a practical and functional process through which the most economic building possible may be constructed. Surely it is in its own way a ‘dialect of the spirit‘, and should draw our hearts and minds upward.

And to those who respond with the argument that such ideas are too idealistic to put into practice, I have also included above a couple of pictures of very ordinary little ‘places where books are stored’ but where you would have to have a heart of stone not to feel instinctively that you would like to spend some time there.