The history of architectural drawing reminds us just how detached architects have become from building

Recently I have been pondering the changing role of the architectural drawing, and what it might mean for what we consider the practice of architecture to be.

In ancient Eqypt, far from the democratic access technology gives us today, books of architectural plans and details were kept as closely guarded and sacred secrets by the Pharaohs. Architects were there to advise and help, but designing a building was seen as semi-divine. Only the gods, in this case the Pharaohs (the client!), could be seen to hold ownership of that design.

There’s a painting showing a merging of plan and section of the Amerna Palace in the tomb of Mery-Re, high priest of Aten. It is the essence of the palace if you will, rather than a description of what it is or how it is built. However there is little surviving evidence to hypothesise from with any certainty about how drawings were used.

I’ll skip forward however, through the architectural competitions of the Ancient Greeks, and through the military engineering and public infrastructure of Ancient Rome. I could pause at the master masons of medieval Europe, but I may not want to move on as they’re so fascinating, so I’ll keep moving forwards to Italian Renaissance.

Many have heard the tale of Brunelleschi, feigning illness and taking to his bed in 1423, determined to prove that he alone could lead the building of Florence’s cathedral. What led to this though? Brunelleschi was in the first wave of the modern architect - the designer who was not also a master in a building craft. The value and frequency of surviving architectural drawings from this period is higher. As the designer and foreman were no longer the same person, architectural drawings and documents needed to be more robust - they had to work as stand alone documents rather than visual aids to verbal instructions. Brunelleschi’s worry was that, once written down, the quality of his work would make his continued presence obsolete - so the instructions for the construction of the dome of Florence’s cathedral were never recorded.

Sure enough, when he took to his bed, construction quickly ground to a halt and the master builders and clerk of works came to him for help - aptly demonstrating as he had intended, that he and he alone could lead the project, drawings or no.

Moving across to the UK the transitional period from master craftsman to amateur, and then to professional architect also saw drawings and contracts become increasingly detailed as the role of architect was further distanced from the process of construction. For example the contract for the Fortune Theatre in London in 1599 specifies the work in considerable detail. However, it’s fixed in references to an existing building - The Globe Theatre - with which we must assume all parties were familiar. This was much as a medieval contract may have been.

Here is really the dawn of modern architectural drawings in the UK however, with the architect stood ever more distant from the action of construction and the drawings necessarily becoming stand alone deliverables. They are an end product in themselves, rather than solely a tool within the process.

In the 19th century we begin to see the serious advent of the coloured perspective drawing - the forebearer of today’s CGI if you will. The client bodies of the time were increasingly committees of the middle classes. Previous aristocratic patrons likely had some architectural education, but these new clients rarely did. A more ‘photorealistic’ drawing was needed to effectively communicate architectural intent.

Save to say that the inevitable disappointment of the real building in crisp stone under a leaden British sky surrounded by a muddy building site often led to disillusioned clients who were expecting the blue skies, swallows and fully grown wisteria of the sketches. In response to this widespread problem, the RIBA even went so far as to create strict rules about the use of perspective drawings in competition entries to mitigate this somewhat. These coloured drawings began to become an art form in themselves, and form a vitally important component of any drawing pack.

While drawing technology has drastically changed in the intervening two hundred years or so, the role architectural drawing plays in the construction process and the types of drawings produced have remained largely unchanged.

However, take a glance at any architectural drawing competition, the RIBA’s wonderful ‘Eye Line’ for instance, and it is these coloured perspectives, or their descendants, that take centre stage. These are not drawings that celebrate the process of construction, these are drawings that celebrate only the concept, the ‘instagram moment’ of architecture.

They are beautiful; and captivating. The artists that create them are undeniably skilled. However, I wish I saw equal accolades given to architects or students that could communicate the process of creating architecture even half as effectively as the artists who so beautifully capture the imagining of architecture. I might then feel that we truly believed architecture was about creating buildings.