Epistemic Status: Not a cohesive theory of community art perception/criticism, just speculation that two or more things are related
For those who haven't seen it, Scott posted his latest piece on architecture, last night, a review of Tom Wolfe's "From Bauhaus To Our House.". The comments are pretty similar to past comments. I'm less interested in the question of why people do or don't like modern architecture (there's a lot of variation in quality, and tastes vary - of course it's polarizing) than the variation in discernment over McMansions, a type of architecture defined by qualities that are a) bad and b) to me, fall in to the category of "once you see it, you can't unsee it."
For our purposes, I'll use the guide from McMansion Hell (https://mcmansionhell.com/post/149284377161/mansionvsmcmansion, https://mcmansionhell.com/post/149563260641/mcmansions-101-mansion-vs-mcmansion-part-2), which includes simple heuristics like Relationship to the Landscape: Often, a New Traditional mansion carefully considers its environment and is built to accentuate, rather than dominate it. A McMansion is out of scale with its landscape or lot, often too big for a tiny lot. and Architectural and Stylistic Integrity: The best New Traditional houses are those who are virtually indistinguishable from the styles they represent. McMansions tend to be either a chaotic mix of individual styles, or a poorly done imitation of a previous style. This house in Texas invokes four separate styles: the Gothic (the steep angle of the gables), Craftsman (the overhanging eaves with braces), French (the use of stone and arched 2nd story windows), and Tudor Revival (the EIFS half-timbering above the garage), each poorly rendered in a busy combination of EIFS coupled with stone and brick veneers. (Follow the links for annotated photos.)
These criteria are really heuristics - part two includes a house that could go either way, with arguments on each side - but they aren't "rocket surgery" to apply, it's just a matter of discernment; why can't everyone learn to apply the criteria, whether or not they share the opinion that McMansions are bad architecture? The criteria of mixing styles can require more consideration than the others - it takes some scrutiny to determine if stylistic elements were mixed in a thoughtful manner - and whether or not the styles are complementary is a matter of taste, but most of it is pretty simple.
[Edit 1: I was thinking of this at the time, but too lazy to go back to the ACX post to incorporate it - this is similar to how an artist friend of Scott's discribed how she identified an AI-generated image as AI art and why she disliked it. Once you see it, can you unsee it? Does it change how much you enjoy the image?]
This reminded me of a video jazz musician and YouTuber Adam Neely made on the question of whether Laufey's music is within the jazz genre. TL;DW, no, he puts her alongside 1950s pop that borrowed from the same set of musical styles as jazz of the period, but applied those stylistic elements to pop songs, rather than a musical form defined more by improvisation (especially group improvisation) than aesthetic. One clip used in the video is someone asking why it matters if jazz musicians don't recognize Laufey's music as jazz - good point; why are we asking the question, in the first place? My speculation is that Laufey's fans want her music to be considered jazz, not pop that has stylistic elements in common with jazz, because jazz has cultural cachet and drawing a distinction between jazz and superficially similar pop music would be perceived as gatekeeping or snobbery. In light of the precedent of 1950s pop, this is rather silly - jazz musicians aren't turning their noses up at Sinatra and Bennett - but, in addition to being denied the cachet associated with jazz appreciation, I can imagine that being told you lack the discernment to tell jazz from non-jazz feels like being told you lack taste.
Discernment and taste are distinct phenomena; if Scott tells me that he agrees with the criteria for distinguishing McMansions from other architecture, we establish inter-rater reliability for this, but he disagrees that they're bad design, I'll accept that he is capable of discerning the style, while declaring our tastes to be different. But Scott writes that architecture buffs tell him about superior modern architecture he might like and he can't discern the difference. To what extent is the discussion of architecture unproductive because people are conflating discernment and taste?
If you can't discern the difference between two things and someone else says that they have strong opinions over their respective quality, do you question your discernment or their taste? In the absence of a prior that you need to cultivate your abilities of discernment, I would speculate that you are more likely to question the other person's taste and are liable to come to the conclusion that their discernment is arbitrary, from which it follows that they're engaging in snobbery. Counter-Snobbery would be to reject the "arbitrary" distinction or, if conceding that there is a distinction, embrace the supposed "lesser" of the two things.
If you can't discern the difference between two things and someone else says that they have strong opinions over their respective quality... what do YOU do?
[Edit 2: While this was in the mod queue, Scott published a new post on theories of taste. Some of the commenters are commenting along the lines of a causal relationship between developing abilities of discernment with changes in taste, without using those terms. Interestingly, neither Scott nor a commenter went back to that section of the AI art post, even though the new post begins "Recently we’ve gotten into discussions about artistic taste (see comments to AI Art Turing Test..."]
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Notes -
I have a ton of thoughts on this. First, I want to revive an ancient Reddit comment I once made in MaleFashionAdvice in answer to the question "What is Tacky?” To define good taste, we must first define poor taste:
"Tacky" find its closest synonym in "uppity" with all the racist and classist implications thereof. Tackiness is when an actor attempts to signify higher status or class through a social act (whether a verbal statement, wearing clothing, throwing a party), but fails to signify higher status and instead reveals their lower status by 'cheaping out' on some aspect of the presentation. It is in the eye of the beholder, and depends on the simultaneous judgments that the act was intended to signal high status and that it failed to do so.
You invite me to come out to a local bar to have a few drinks after work to celebrate your 30th birthday. I pay for my own drinks. Not tacky.
Vs
You rent out a local hotel ballroom to throw a black tie only blowout 30th birthday bash and invite me. I arrive at the event, suitably suited, and find a cash bar. Tacky.
The difference that makes paying for my drinks at your birthday party tacky is that in the first case you've simply invited me to a bar, which isn't perceived as a signal of wealth or status. In the second, you've attempted to signal wealth and status by holding a large event, but cheaped out on the standards expected at such an event.
Jamie Dimon repeatedly mentions at dinner his 2nd cousin, who is a postman in Queens. Weird, perhaps, but not tacky.
Vs
A postman in Queens repeatedly mentions his 2nd cousin, Jamie Dimon, in conversation about the economy at dinner. Tacky.
Bringing up your second cousin isn't tacky in itself, but the positions of speakers alters the nature of the act. The postman seems like he is attempting to imbue himself with higher status by virtue of his association with a bank president, but fails because it is meaningless and desperate.
Interestingly, a shift in context can make Jamie the tacky one. Say the conversation is about the middle class and its economic struggles, and Jamie repeatedly brings up his cousin as proof he understands and cares about the middle class. That would be tacky of him.
In car enthusiast culture putting custom paint, wheels, and aesthetic enhancements on your Mustang GT V8. Not inherently tacky if done well.
Vs
Putting aesthetic enhancements on your V6 or 4 cylinder Mustang, particularly those that make it look like a factory GT. Always tacky, no matter how tastefully done.
The two cars are aesthetically identical after theoretical customization, but the bigger engine makes one less tacky than the other. Because the customization attempts to signal high status (hey! Look at me! My car is awesome!), but what one car has under the hood is superior to the other, the v8 is what we think of when we think Mustang. Customizing a v6 mustang is at some level promising a level of performance your car doesn't deliver.
The tacky isn't merely, or even necessarily, ugly or in poor taste. It's an attempt to flex, to show off, which fails in its execution by its transparency.
The salesman's garish knockoff Rolex is tacky, because of its attempt at association with wealth. The real LV belt buckle worn with Kmart jeans is tacky, because the wearer clearly overspent their means on the piece. The designer created knockoff of a vintage event or resort t shirt is tacky, because of the effort to use money to stand in for cool experiences or cultural signifiers. Overdressing and citing Barney Stinson is tacky, so is underdressing and citing Zuckerberg. The common element is the failed attempt to signal high status.
McMansions
Let's apply this to architecture, and McMansions in particular. What makes a Mansion Mc is its tackiness. It is the effort to signal wealth, while cheating out on some details which render the whole display tacky. I walk my dog through a McMansion neighborhood this time of year when it snows and there’s no cars on the road, I love the lights they put up. It’s a pleasant enough neighborhood, full of fine people, many friends of mine grew up there, I knew the family of the builder, but I find the houses aesthetically disgusting. They’re all around 4,500 square feet, with a 2.5 car garage, on half an acre. A fine house. But they all have this stucco exterior, with a fifteen foot high narrow archway over the door. And it drives me nuts to look at, because every single house has it, exactly the same, just in different colors of stucco. It looks so trashy, because at the end of the day, you have this big house that looks like it ought to signal wealth, and it looks just like all the other big houses. It’s tacky.
And what offends me about it isn’t ultimately the style, it’s the expense for that style. When my wife and I were shopping for a house, I told her that in our market I basically needed to love the house if it was over $500k. Under $500k, I might be persuaded to settle for liking the house, for a house with good future resale value, for a house that made sense to get us out of my parents’ basement. But above that, I wanted to love it, because it’s generally a tougher proposition to move on from a half million dollar house in our area, both in terms of selling it and in terms of upgrading from it. It’s a reach, so the people who own a house like that, they clearly like that house. They bought it to show it off. But, ultimately, they didn’t have the real money to build a real house, only to buy cookie cutter luxury. Which is tacky.
I live in a 1962 ranch, which I love. It’s worth maybe half as much as one of the stucco McMansions. In 1962, it was more or less what Pete Seeger was singing about, other than that it wasn’t in a tract neighborhood, when it was build most of the land around it was farm or forest. For a variety of reasons my house is tasteful rather than tacky to me. The size makes it unostentatious, it’s carefully decorated with appropriately chosen furniture. But mostly, it is old. Age imparts class. It is lived in. Practical.
Public Architecture
Consider a particular form of public architecture: the stadium. I grew up going to Veteran’s Stadium in Philly for baseball and football games. In 2003 it was replaced by two new stadiums purpose built for football and baseball respectively: Citizen’s Bank Park and Lincoln Financial Field. At the time of the change, there was widespread outcry and displeasure. While the Vet was no architectural marvel, it was imbued with meaning for fans. Players in Sports Illustrated surveys said it was a heap, and executives on TV would say that it was getting so expensive to maintain it wasn’t worth it, but for fans that lived in feeling was part of the charm. As a young teen, I remember the Vet as having a lot of hallways and warrens, a lot of places one could wander around in. Looking back, it’s funny how as a kid I couldn’t sit still for a whole game, it felt like forever, I always needed to take a walk around the stadium, get something to eat, etc. Now as an adult I get one quart of beer, and the game is over before I know it. All the season ticket holders, the guys who used to form the “Wolf Pack” for Phillies’ “Ace” Randy Wolf in the bleachers, bitched and moaned. The new stadiums were soulless, the fact that they were named after corporations (that most people had never heard of) only made it worse. They were sterile. By design there were no more blind corners on the staircases leading to balconies reeking of marijuana on game day. We were all sure that no one would ever love the new stadiums.
Within a few years, fans simply bonded with the new corporate soulless sterile capitalist monstrosity. When Phillies fans travel to Nationals Park in DC, they wave homemade signs calling it “Citizen’s Bank South” because there are more Phillies fans in the stands than there are DC fans. ((Oddly, Citizens Bank of the South is a different bank entirely))
What counts isn’t the space, it’s what goes on there. Going to a ballgame is inherently a meaning making experience, naming the stadium for a bank doesn’t change anything. Kids who are now the age I was when the Vet was demolished were born ten years after the Phillies moved to Citizen’s Bank Park.
That (and the whole of your reply) is a very thought-provoking take. Thank you.
I've been thinking about McMansions last night. One thing they have about them is that they are big, larger than many older styles. If your house is small enough, let's say under 150sqm/1500sqft for one floor and under 250sqm/2500sqmft for two floors, you can build a literal box and it will look good if you don't mess with it.
Beyond that size, a box-shaped house starts to look like a cow shed. You have to break up the silhouette, so the house sprouts wings, the roof becomes complex, the monotony of the facade is broken up with bay windows and balconettes, etc. But if your house is slightly bigger than the upper limit, it is still small enough to be comprehended as a whole.
And this is where McMansion proves its surprising link with modernism. In it form still follows function. Think of it this way: if I want a neo-Georgian house, I will build a symmetrical main building with two regular rows of windows and a front door smack in the center. All the rooms in the main building will be subordinate to this form. All unusual rooms will be moved to the wings or the outbuildings, which, if they are unsightly, will be hidden behind the main building or some strategically placed trees.
But if I want a McMansion, I will design it from the inside out. I want a living room with panoramic windows? I draw a living room with panoramic windows. I want a three-car garage? I draw a three-car garage. I want another bedroom? I draw another bedroom. Then I draw the building envelope around the resulting shape. If I plaster this house with white stucco and use flat roofs, I will get a typical functionalist villa that is "honest about its function", because it always forces the form to conform to the function and never vice versa. If I decorate this form, I will get a McMansion even if I use the best traditional materials and don't mix existing styles, simply because the complexity of the form is already overwhelming.
Oddly, my experience of how most owners live in these houses is the opposite. They realistically don't need or use all the space, and the rooms either repeat or are imagined into uses that are rather pointless. Either you have three different rooms devoted to watching TV. Or you have a gift-wrapping room and a home gym even though you don't really do either activity.
They started with wanting a BIG BIG house, and then moved in and realized they couldn't figure out what to do with the space.
Why are they so weirdly shaped, then? Someone had to design them that way.
Maybe the client said "I want a big house", and the architect failed to explain to the client that a big house was not needed. (Bigger house → more billable hours?)
From what I know, most houses in the US aren't custom built. An in-house architect for a construction company designs them and the customers just pick one. Which makes is much more baffling.
In-house architects in Russia are known for designing terrible houses (ugly and impractical), but that's because the whole industry is ten years old there. The US has been building tract housing since WWII, how come everyone has forgotten how to design a house that doesn't look like ass?
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