That said, my strongest impressions of the European cities in Spain, France, Italy, and Sweden we visited had to do with the stunning architectural beauty, pretty much everywhere. This beauty, which of course has a partial basis in the elaborate and ornate building-work, arises for me in the sense of space and perspective.
The old city landscape unfolds much as an ancient canyon, its beautiful walls curving away from view. This lends a charming element of surprise to city exploration. Especially prevalent in Rome, one would be wandering within an alley, and suddenly a great church face or temple would be standing before you in the sunlight.
This haphazard and semi-chaotic flow stands in contrast to the wide boulevards and sharp, straight lines and tunneling lines of sight more prevalent in US cities. In these places one feels as if one is walking within a circuit board, or a factory floor.
One can see spatially the aging of a civilization in sharper relief, with the bourgeoisie given a wide-open canvas in the new world to experiment with and begin anew, whereas in the old world there was a sense of oppression from the overhanging historical presence, and the bourgeoisie were only able to erect their own material creations in the form of shoots that rose between ruin sites and the older beloved buildings.
There are positives and negatives associated with both worlds: in the new world there is a sense of freedom and possibility, but which gives way to an anxiety of rootlessness, and the sterility and desolation characteristic of purely rationalist architecture, a sterility that refuses accidents and aging. In the old world, the buildings have the warm, weathered features of pockmarked rock faces; there is a greater complexity of variation and expression, but there is the domestic sense of historical burden, that there is not much room for novel expansion without disturbing some beloved ruin or building.
One pattern that arises between the two worlds is a gradual straightening of lines and tightening of planning which favors simple, repeatable patterns, almost like a sort of crystallization over time, as you move from the old to the new.
What's more, one can gain a sense of public feeling and collective purpose just by contrasting the various forms of architecture. The old architecture still betrayed the concentration of wealth and power: all of that energy in one place had to be directed and presided over by individuals or a limited organization.
However the display of power and wealth was much more public. Great works, especially in architecture, tended to stand in the open and were able to be enjoyed by all. The church may have concentrated its wealth in the cathedral - in direct violation of its own originating ideology - but in the cathedral everyone could enjoy the material splendor together, and share a sense of awe. Great sculptures and paintings were plastered all about public surfaces and shared.
But with the dawn of the modern age, material wealth and its display seemed to have become increasingly private. Many modern buildings have become stripped of their expression, serving instead as mere functionary structures. The economic life shows its primacy, with accumulation the greatest motivating impulse. Expenditures of creative energy are less shared in a public space, and more shared indirectly through private works that are distributed and communicated about.
Wealth and power itself becomes increasingly compartmentalized, appearing more in private spaces.
Again, these are meant to be generalizations, useful for painting a simpler picture. It is impossible to fully encapsulate the multiplicity of forms in a given era. For example, the great architect Antoni Gaudi was part of a movement that sought to recover older forms of expression in the modern age, and his works stand in vivid contrast to much that was produced then, and even today. Curiously enough, it is as if the presence of Gaudi's buildings in Barcelona allow for a greater multiplicity of architectural forms and creative license, and a greater tolerance for aberrant architectural appearances. The most vibrant and bold works mark where the boundaries are that a majority of the population will proceed.
One can tell from my language which architectural landscapes I admire more, but I'd like to stress as always that the varying forms and patterns between the worlds mark changes in the constitution of a civilization over time and space. One can make judgments about the relative merits of these variations as an interested ego in time and space, but it is doubtful that an infallible, objective standard could be established, and that on the objective level these varying forms simply are.
