Memory Without Monuments, Anderson

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Memory without Monuments: VArchitecture

S T A N F OR D A N D E R S O N

This article concerns the role of memory in vernacular architecture. It rst points to a distinc-

tion between social memory and disciplinary memory in architecture. It then calls attention

to the difference between the forms of memory embodied in the vernacular architecture of

preliterate and literate societies. In preliterate societies, the cohesion of social and disciplinary

memory in vernacular buildings allows the buildings to provide information about the past,

but that past is not as much separate from, as subsumed in, the present. By contrast, literate

societies develop records of their past a past set apart, and so inducing inquiry and scepti-

cism. A continuity is actually present in these distinctions between the types of memory

embodied in the vernacular architecture of different societies, moving from the forms associ-

ated with preliterate societies, through the variations within literate, relatively ahistorical soci-

eties, and ending with the highly stylized vernacular usage in intensively historical ones.

While the growth of disciplinary memory has facilitated the establishment of an architectural

profession, a complete separation of social and disciplinary memory would ultimately prove

destructive to the linkage between a society and its forms of architectural expression.

In 1995, in an essay in the journal Daidalos, I distinguished between memory througharchitecture and memory in architecture, in which the former involved societal memory car-ried in architecture and the latter concerned the operation of memory within the discipline of architecture itself. 1 Among the examples I used to illustrate the former what I refer to associal memory were medieval European copies of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem (fig .1).Since the many copies of this holy site were quite different from one another, it was clear thatits religiously generated recall did not entail strict architectural norms. And yet it is also clearthat such social memory dominated architectural form and precedent at the time.

T D S R V O L U M E X I N U M B E R I 1 9 9 9 13

Stanford Anderson, architect and historian,is Professor and Head of the Department of Architecture at the Massachusetts Instituteof Technology, Cambridge, MA.


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All forms of memory, then, may move toward one another.Nonetheless, even as the above briey noted examples may sug-gest, there is a history to the distinction of social and disciplinarymemory that merits attention. Furthermore I suggest there hascome to be more division of labor in modern times between theuses of these memory systems than there once was.

It was precisely this question of how the relation of discipli-nary memory to societal memory changed over time that Iexplored in the Daidalosessay. But in that essay I concentratedon architecture by recognized architects (whether known byname or not) to show how the increased distinction between thetwo forms of memory over time allowed the discipline of archi-

tecture to become a more rigorous and challenging activity. ButI also recognized the hazard for both architecture and society if these two forms of memory arrived at a point of utter separation.

The above arguments invited prior questions, which Iwant to explore here. The questions include the following:Was (or is?) there a condition under which social and disci-plinary memory were not separated? If so, under what con-ditions would social (or collective) memory and disciplinarymemory diverge? My telegraphic answers are these: rst,what is commonly referred to as vernacular architecture rep-resents at least a close cohesion of social and disciplinarymemory; and second, it is the advent of writing and historythat has invited the increasing distinction between thesememory systems. In proffering the above hypotheses, I usethe term vernacular architecture to refer to works bybuilders who, whether their names are known or not, are notrecognized as architects. In doing so, I accept the ambiguityinherent in this denition and the fact that it connotes a widerange of buildings in quite different societies.

In addition to this issue of the close relation of social anddisciplinary memory in vernacular architecture, I want to exploreseveral related issues here. One will be to relate the diversity of vernacular architecture with the varying degrees of relationbetween social and disciplinary memory from a virtual

A N D E R S O N : M E M O R Y W I T H O U T M O N U M E N T S 15

fusion, to a looser but still identiable relation. Another will beto explore how these shifting degrees of relation and ultimate-ly what may be termed a weak relation accord with the pas-sage from pre-literate to literate societies. Finally, I will explorehow this passage may also be a passage from societies depen-

dent on memory alone to those with historical constructions. Inother words, I will explore how differences in the operation of memory in various societies may accord with distinctions amongvernacular architectures, and between vernacular architectureand architecture that is more self-consciously conceived.

My aim in this discussion is to consider examples repre-senting a spectrum of societies, and of architectures. First arepreliterate societies, devoid of historical reconstruction, whosevernacular architecture holds social and disciplinary memory inclose relation. Second are literate societies which neverthelessgive little emphasis to historical reconstruction, and in which arelatively close relation may be maintained between social anddisciplinary memory. Finally, I will look to literate, highly his-toricized societies with little that passes for vernacular architec-ture. Yet, even in such societies, I want to note that what maybe called vernacular usage still exists in varying degrees.

VERNACULAR ARCHITECTURE: COHESION OF

SOCIAL AND DISCIPLINARY MEMORY

I begin with a preliterate society, devoid of historical recon-struction, whose vernacular architecture holds social and discipli-nary memory in close relation. Taking one example frominnumerable instances around the world, one can look to the

deserts of Gujarat, where there exist still today settlements of theBanni people where a distinctive building form is closely corre-lated with local social life (fig .4). Among the various aspects of this social life is the art of building itself, serving to maintainexisting physical structures, but also to build new units or com-pounds. Despite its presence from time immemorial, this art of building, like other customs in the social life of the Banni, is verymuch a matter of the present. Until recently (and, then, only asit was compiled by visitors from outside the community), therewas no other record of this building technology or its use otherthan in the actual buildings and the craft knowledge of thebuilders, passed from generation to generation. One must con-ceive that there have been changes in both the social life and the

building technology of the Banni; yet such processes are neces-sarily lost in time. Likewise, innovation may continue to occur,but it, too, is experienced in response to current conditions, andthen is lost in the continuing presence of the artifact.

I suggest that the widely admired vernacular architec-ture of many parts of the world in Greece, for example would, until overridden by the radical changes of the twenti-eth century, accede to similar analyses that show a close rela-tion of social and building programs.

figure 3. Douglas County, Kansas. The Barber School, 1871. Restored 1993-1998 by faculty and students of the School of Architecture and Urban Design, University of Kansas. (Photo courtesy of Dennis Domer.)


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RELATION OF COLLECTIVE MEMORY TO HISTORY:

PRE-LITERATE TO LITERATE SOCIETY

What, theoretically, can be made of this? Consideringthe operation of memory in a society and its extension intime, is it essential to make a distinction between those soci-eties that possess only memory and those that confrontmemory with history? In an oral society, even if there is adynamic that leads to a collective understanding of the past,memory resides in individuals. The absence of records con-tributes to the modication of social memory and traditionfrom generation to generation. The past is not as much sep-arate from, as subsumed in, the present.

Studying preliterate societies, several authors have notedthe insistent attention of these societies to the present momentand the distancing of the society from its past. In preliteratesocieties, cultural tradition is maintained in face-to-face com-munication and in the context of present issues. In such anoral society, forgetting and even forgetting that one forgets is as important as memory. Jack Goody and Ian Wattobserved that the social function of memory and of forget-ting can thus be seen as the nal stage of what may becalled the homeostatic organization of the cultural tradition in

non-literate society.3

Transformations of social practices orforms may or may not be noted at the time of the event, butare unlikely to remain in memory in face of the perceivedreinstatement of balance. Similarly, Jacques Le Goff observedthat collective memory functions in oral societies according toa generative reconstruction that eliminates or transformsthose parts of the tradition that are no longer operative. 4

Under these conditions, what an outsider might callsocial and disciplinary memories participates in this homeo-static process, which constantly re-establishes balance andallows present differences with the past to be forgotten. The

relation of these memories to one another may appear seam-less. The making of the physical environment is at one withthe social construction of the society; perhaps the builderreceives honor for demonstrable skills, but so too do otherswho are part of this attainment of balance through both

maintenance and change. The generative reconstruction,aimed at maintaining a stable present, subsumes distinctionswhich only the external observer would make.

Again, according to Goody and Watt:

Literate societies, on the other hand, cannot discard, absorb,or transmute the past in the same way. Instead, their mem-bers are faced with permanently recorded versions of the past and its beliefs; and because the past is thus set apart from the present, historical enquiry becomes possible. This inturn encourages scepticism; and scepticism, not only about the legendary past, but about received ideas about the uni-verse as a whole. From here the next step is to see how tobuild up and to test alternative explanations; and out of thisthere arose the kind of logical, specialized, and cumulativeintellectual tradition of sixth-century Ionia.5

One might, of course, note that this description aptlysummarizes the intellectual traditions of our own day, both inthe West and in other parts of the world. These are the pre-conditions for self-conscious forms of memory and for diver-gences of memory systems within a single culture. These arealso the preconditions for memorialization that is, assign-ing to built form the explicit role of maintaining memory.

VARIATION OF MEMORY IN LITERATE SOCIETIES

I would like to turn now to variations and changes of memory in literate societies still with attention to the pro-duction or reception of vernacular architecture.

On my rst visit to Saudi Arabia in 1980, to the highlydeveloped oil region of the Gulf, several students of architec-ture kindly offered to take me to see what they termed avery old building. I expected to see some well-preservedexample of indigenous mud-brick building the former ver-nacular architecture of this region and culture (fig .5). TheEastern Province of Saudi Arabia is not the best place to see

such building, but many examples that would have satisedmy neophytes eye sped past the windows of the car.Eventually, however, we arrived at a town on the coast wherea small commercial building of mixed construction tech-niques and some modest Art Deco detailing, probably circa1940, proved to be the destination of our quest. At the timeof its construction, this building might have served as anexample of the incorporation of innovations into the estab-lished vernacular tradition. But viewed in 1980, in the pres-ence of local university students, and in the more generalcontext of a highly modernized society, my attention went

figure 4. Dhordo, India. Banni village. (Courtesy of Kulbushan Jain.)


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more to the apparent difference in the historicity of my mindand that of my student hosts. It was remarkable that thisstylistically mixed, relatively recent building was to fulll thepromise of a very old building. The experience spokedenitively of the disparities of historical orientation andsystems of memory between representatives of two highlyliterate, but different, societies.

Writing makes possible inscriptions on memorial con-structions, texts on supports conceived intentionally for themaintenance of records, and, most important of all, changesin mental attitude at both individual and social levels.Nonetheless, there are variations among these changes fromone society to another. Rote learning or memorization, withina culture that is both oral and literate, is argued to have longbeen characteristic of Islamic societies. 6 The relative weightof memory and inquiry differs from one society to another.What is remembered, and how, also differs. Memorization of prescribed texts is quite different from a system that establish-es the conditions for, and encourages, newly invented and

critical memories. Compared to the West, the maintenance of archives and records, crucial to the critical use of memory, hasbeen limited in Islamic societies and where they exist, theyhave mainly been concerned with established religious andlegal concerns. Records pertaining to change in cultural pro-

duction in and for itself have had little place.In Saudi Arabia, as in many countries, there has, of

course, been rapid change in these matters. Fifteen yearsafter my visit, there had come to be a greater appreciation for,and preservation of, the indigenous architecture of Arabia, aswell as interest in adapting its forms and principles to cur-rent development, as shown here in the Saudi Embassy inYemen (fig .6) .7 What I mean to point out is that local sys-tems of memory and historical consciousness, once quite dis-tinctive, have become more self-conscious, and have changedin concert with other aspects of Saudi development.

For their part, Goody and Watt were explicit that thenature of new historical societies varies with the form of lan-guage. Signicant variations extend to our own day, perhapsin the relation of language and history, and certainly in thesocietal apparatus constructed to facilitate or inhibit the writingof history and its concomitant critical role. Today, even amonghighly literate societies, there are still those that are relativelyahistorical. The concept of an archive, let alone the presenceof archives and museums, is unevenly distributed throughoutthe world. In preliterate societies, then but also in literatesocieties that have not given a prominent place to historicalstudies knowledge of the past and the relation of thatknowledge to the present is quite different from the highly his-toricized societies of the West (and perhaps elsewhere). 8


figure 5. Unaizeh, Saudi Arabia. Indigenous mud brick building.(Photo by author.) figure 6. Beha

Group (Riyadh).Sanaa, Yemen.Saudi Embassy,1988. (Photo by author.)


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One might remark that this differentiation is not only tobe recognized by country or language area, but also by disci-pline. Architecture has not been the most laggard of disci-plines in the studied examination of its past, yet themarketing of architectural drawings and the burgeoning of architectural archives and museums in the last two decadesspeaks to a signicant change in the relation of history and

artifacts also in the West.9

So-called vernacular architecture may, then, be inter-estingly correlated with distinctions of societies as preliterateor literate but also with varying linguistic and memory sys-tems historic societies, that is, with varying levels or typesof historic consciousness.

SUSTAINED VERNACULAR TRADITIONS WITHIN

HISTORICAL SOCIETIES

Continuing with my spectrum of examples, I now turnto sustained vernacular traditions within historical societies.

Most visitors to the Netherlands are struck by the distinctive-ness of the typical houses, and thus the urban fabric of theold centers of Dutch towns (fig .7). Characteristically, thehouses are of brick, in rows with the gable ends to the street.They are also relatively small but have large windows directlyat street level, and with little if any separation from it.Collectively, these houses yield a cityscape of remarkable inti-macy and openness. Houses of this type were built withoutarchitects for centuries, most particularly from theRenaissance until the twentieth century, establishing a widelydispersed Dutch housing vernacular.

In the early twentieth century, as Dutch architects pio-neered the eld of social housing, the received typeinuenced their work signicantly. 10 This tradition contin-ued, with increased architectural and urban sophistication inthe work of M.J. Granpr Molire, as in his famous Vreewijk

community in Rotterdam (fig .8). Even architects of a dis-tinctly modernist inclination established housing types thatrelied signicantly on this tradition, as in the Laan vanMeerdervoort in The Hague (fig .9) . Still more remarkable,much of the housing in the interwar years by Dutch archi-tects of impeccable modernist credentials retained distinctivecharacteristics of the strong Dutch vernacular tradition, as inthe work of J.J.P. Oud (fig .10). Even in the famousWeissenhof Siedlung in Stuttgart in 1927, Oud and his fellowDutch architect Mart Stam, working under an experimentalprogram in another country, still built row houses (fig .11).Of all the modern architects of the era, only the Dutch archi-tects maintained these characteristic traditional approaches.

But in this series of buildings, while there is a recogniz-able tie, there is also a progressive loosening of ties to thevernacular and a loosening of the relation of social anddisciplinary memory. In any such progression a point willultimately be reached where one can no longer speak of ver-nacular architecture. This is where I believe one must shiftto talking about an underlying vernacular usage. Eventhough it goes beyond the scope of this article, it is possibleto show how even in Dutch society, with its often strongsense for tradition, the ties of new construction to vernacularhousing, or the relation of social and disciplinary memory,can still be burst asunder as in massive housing estates of

high-rise buildings in the postwar years.Taking another step in our spectrum of examples, I offera brief observation of the persistence of a vernacular usage inhigh modern architecture. The work of the Mexican archi-tect Luis Barragan is usually, and rightly, appreciated for theabstraction of its forms, and particularly for its powerful useof color. However, one need only walk the streets of aMexican village to nd sources not only for such colors butalso for the play of apertures, space, light and color. And itcan happen that this phenomenon of vernacular architectureis even more striking where the exteriors of houses are sim-ply white, but where, when they are opened for the eveningair, an effusive world of color is lit, framed and revealed.

Degrees of vernacular usage within highly literate andhistorical societies can range, then, from the relatively unself-conscious maintenance of housing and urban forms, throughdeliberate adaptations of received vernacular types, to the adapta-tion of elements across time and space in explorations madepossible by what I will call the quasi-autonomy of architecturalform. Thus, even in highly literate and historical societies suchas the Netherlands or Mexico, one may nd traditions of dwelling type, of urban fabric, and even of architectural abstrac-tion that represent interesting, often contributive, persistences of earlier socio-cultural organization. By tradition, here within

figure 7.Woudrichem,The Netherlands.Houses in themarket street.

(Photo by author.)


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historic societies, I imply tradition that continues to serve in themaintenance of a dynamic social equilibrium. Increasingly, thiswill be invented tradition. 11 Yet I am also thinking of thoseconventions or traditions that form the substrate of any society so pervasive that they are rarely brought to cognizance.

It is for the understanding of phenomena such as thesethat the historical concept of mentalities is particularly apt.As Jacques Le Goff has written: The history of mentalities . . .is also a meeting point for opposing forces which are beingbrought into contact by the dynamics of contemporary histori-cal research: the individual and the collective, the long-term

and the everyday, the unconscious and the intentional, thestructural and the conjectural, the marginal and the general. 12

This is an excellent catalog of the concerns that must be rep-resented in a study of traditional building practices (or whatmay be called the vernacular) within historical societies.


MEMORY WITHOUT MONUMENTS

In the cases of the vernacular in architecture givenabove, as different as they may be, it appears that socialmemory and disciplinary memory retain signicant associa-tions. One might even speak of how they allow memorywithout monuments or, as did Hermann Muthesius, of how memory may be an attribute of the very art of building. 13

I hypothesize that vernacular architecture, whether of prelit-erate or literate societies and even what we know as thedwelling types or urban fabric of modern settlements

raise intrinsically interesting issues of architecture closely linkedto memory. I have presented these issues thus far in the contextof arguments that conceive of oral societies (and even certainaspects of literate/historical societies) as deeply engaged in thepresent in the maintaining of a homeostatic organization that

figure 8. ( left ) M.J. Granpr-Molire. Rotterdam. Vreewijk housing estate, 1916-19. (Photo by author.)figure 9. ( right ) J.W. van der Weele. The Hague. Houses in the Laan van Meerdervoort 741-827, 1927. (Photo by author.)

figure 10. (left ) J.J.P. Oud. Rotterdam. Kiefhoek housing estate, 1925-29. (Photo by author.)figure 11. (right ) Oud. Stuttgart, Germany. Weissenhof housing estate, 1927. (Photo courtesy of Rotch Visual Collections, MIT.)


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is as dependent on forgetting the past as it is on recalling it.However, the very fact that buildings themselves are usually of long duration should raise another round of questions.

I would like to twist the argument slightly, and lookagain at preliterate forms of vernacular architecture, as in my

example of the Banni in Gujarat. Do the commentators onoral societies, concerned with the absence of texts (whetheron memorial buildings or on other textual supports), fail torecognize how building itself, with its long duration, is a cul-tural form that opens the possibility of historical reection?Vernacular architecture may preserve or recall cultural formsand social or disciplinary practices that would otherwise belost in the ux of the present. To accept a concept of vernac-ular architecture as document, or even building process asdocument, would thus change the account of past and pre-sent, of memory and historical sense, in preliterate societies.I should note that current scholars obviously use vernaculararchitecture in this way. But my question is whether, and if so when, the indigenous cultures themselves made that step.

To twist the question further, I propose two caveats tothe exploration of vernacular architecture as document.Differentiations from one society or period to another mightbe necessary for two reasons. First, the capacity of a vernacu-lar building to serve as a document does not guarantee that itwill be taken as such, any more than a written text that fell bychance into the hands of a preliterate society would be. It isnecessary to arrive at a certain turn of mind to see a buildingas a document, as representing something other than its per-formance in the present. One would therefore need evidenceof this nascent historical sense before asserting that build-

ings served as documents at some earlier moment.

The second caveat, as central to architecture as to histori-ograhy, is that building practice, or, more generally, what I havecalled disciplinary memory, has at least a degree of autonomy.Certain fundamental tectonic forms e.g., the post and lintel, thetimber frame, the plaited wall inll, the arch, and so on devel-

oped independently in different cultures (fig .12). In different cul-tures, and over time even in the same culture, the same tectonicforms and physical organizations may serve different purposesand meanings. Both these facts independent invention andalternative uses point to the quasi-autonomy of these, and other ,artisanal endeavors. It is in this quasi-autonomy that architecturediscovers its own discipline, the development of forms and organi-zations that are not derived deterministically from social forces. Atthis point I want to emphasize, however, that I am speaking onlyof quasi-autonomy. I do not think it desirable that architectureshould aspire to a similar level of autonomy as that of the so-calledne arts. Under the concept of quasi-autonomy, more than one formcan serve the same purpose, and the same form can serve differentpurposes. Consequently, there is room for invention that is funda-mentally architectural without sacricing responsibility to social need.There is likewise the opportunity for successful reuse and reinterpre-tation of the existing social investment in physical environments.

I would reinforce the matter of quasi-autonomy by stat-ing it differently. Within the same society, aspects of a disci-pline may persist or be revived without engaging the sameassociations those aspects had at an earlier period. Thus,artistic and even artisanal activities cannot be reduced tobeing either determined by, or the determinants of, social con-ditions. The ip side of this argument is, of course, that anartifact like vernacular architecture presents an ambiguous

document for the reconstruction of beginnings and past uses.

figure 12. Village north of Jogjakarta, Indonesia.Traditionally crafted house.(Photo by author.)


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CONCLUSION

From the above discussion and that of my earlier paperin Daidalos I re-emphasize the proposed distinction betweensocial and disciplinary memory. Without the exploration and

development of disciplinary memory, there is no indepen-dence for the discipline of architecture. This does not pre-clude responsible service to society as one also extends thequasi-autonomous content of architecture. Indeed, I woulddeliberately want to suggest its inclusion.

I have argued that vernacular architecture in its purestsense, in the hands of unself-conscious builders in indige-nous cultures, may represent the fullest identication of social and disciplinary memory. I have been moved inobserving such special environments in India, North Africa,Bali, and elsewhere. Yet I do not put this identication for-ward as an ideal (this is just as well, for in modern, literate,historical societies, such a condition is not available). Todayit is unavoidable that one see these phenomena historicallyand critically. On the other hand, I have pointed to the main-tenance of memory in a range of vernacular usages that Ind exemplary even into highly abstract modernism.

In scholarship, or in practice, I assert the importance of attending to systems of memory. But I do this as much tofend off abuses as to recognize responsibilities and opportu-nities. The uses of memory in the former Yugoslavia, orNorthern Ireland, or central Africa today are awful. So, too,was the use of memory in Nazi Germany, where one couldalso point to distinct architectural correlates.

On the positive side, my predilections go to the more radi-cal forms of vernacular usage I recognize in Oud and Stam inStuttgart, or in the work of Barragan. However, if one turns tomore conservative examples, problems abound. Claims forauthenticity and fulllment of identity through the invocation of memory are normally the rhetoric of dogmatists who wouldlead us, individually and collectively, into desperation. Lessfrightening concepts such as inventing tradition, or evenmanufacturing heritage, sound immediately problematic.Indeed, they are so, but they also cannot be immediately dis-missed. It is clear that historical reconstruction of most thatsociety values will reveal just such invention and manufac-turing. In retrospect such invention will often be admired, butat the same time it is important to be sceptical of such endeav-

ors. Thus, when Granpr-Molire manufactured Vreewijk, asizable, traditionally-based housing complex in the radicallymodernizing port city of Rotterdam, he was understandablycriticized by the modernists around him. But, in response, Isuggest that the modernists themselves, at their best, haveemployed vernacular usage. And one can also point to howtoday, seventy years later, Vreewijk is still a desirable living envi-ronment, compelling sympathetic examination. Close attentionwill then be required to discriminate when the Seasides andCelebrations of the world are as worthy as Vreewijk, when theyare as nostalgic and vacuous as the Main Street of Disneyworld,


or when they are as corrupting as reactionary appeals to racial,class, or national identity. And, then again, why not just aspireto more, including a higher and more critical use of memory?

The argument I have made is complex. Today it would bedifcult to nd a truly preliterate society engaged in unmediated

indigenous building. For that matter, the other instances of ver-nacular architecture and tradition I have mentioned survivalsof earlier practices and memory systems within various literatesocieties, or the persistence of vernacular traditions and relatedmentalities in highly literate and historical societies, are alsoincreasingly rare, especially if they are to be free of additional lay-ers of memory and interpretation. The nonhistorical or margin-ally historical practices that are of concern today must beapproached historically, with all the difculties and ambiguitiesthat suggests. Thus, the work of iaste will no doubt quite rightlybe more concerned with the complexities of how the vernacu-lar has been interpreted than with the complexities (oradmirable simplicities) of the vernacular artifacts themselves.The diversity of the subjects studied and the complexity of theways they can be known implies the importance of specic andnuanced inquiry rather than the power of generalities.

Nonetheless, I suggest that such inquiries wouldprotably begin by attempting to situate vernacular practiceswithin the systems of memory operative in a given time andplace. This done, there must be further renements basedon questions I have raised here: Does this instance of vernac-ular architecture itself provide a historical document for itscontemporaries? And does the work in question revealimportant continuities rst for a system of memory, and thenfor a history of the discipline of building and thus for a

degree of autonomy of the discipline, even if this phenome-non will appear more decisively only later?


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REFERENCE NOTES

An earlier version of this article was pre-sented as a keynote address at the SixthConference of the International Association

for the Study of Traditional Environments,held in Cairo, Egypt, in December 1998.

1. S. Anderson, Memory inArchitecture/Erinnerung in derArchitektur, Daidalos 58 (Berlin)(December 1995), pp.22-37.2. D. Domer, Building Memory: AnApologia for the Senses, The Structurist ,No.37/38 (1997/1998), pp.26-33. Also inMemory and Architecture, Proceedings of the1998 West Central Regional Conference,Associated Collegiate Schools of Architecture (St. Louis: WashingtonUniversity, 1998), pp.12-17.3. J. Goody and I. Watt, The Consequencesof Literacy, in Goody, ed., Literacy inTraditional Societies(Cambridge: CambridgeUniversity Press, 1968), pp.30,67.4. J. Le Goff, Storia e memoria (History and Memory) (Turin: Einaudi, 1977), S. Rendalland E. Claman, trans. (New York: ColumbiaUniversity Press, 1992), p.57. See also A.Leroi-Gourhan, Les voies de lhistoire avantlcriture, in Le Goff and P. Nora, eds.,Faire de lhistoire(Paris: Gallimard, 1974),Vol.1, pp.93-105.5. Goody and Watt, The Consequences of Literacy, pp.67-68.6. D.F. Eickelman, The Art of Memory:Islamic Education and Its SocialReproduction, Comparative Studies in Society and History , No.XX (1978), pp.485-516.7. S. Al-Hathloul, The Arab-Muslim City:Tradition, Continuity and Change in the Physical Environment (Riyadh: Dar Al Sahan, 1996).8. In accounting for the conquest and eradica-tion of memory by history, Pierre Nora seems

to glorify the conditions of so-called primitiveor archaic societies, and to show too littleappreciation for the critical dimension of his-tory in modern societies. See his BetweenMemory and History, Representations,No.XXVI (Spring 1989), pp.7-26.9. A. Savas, Between Document andMonument: Architectural Artifacts in theAge of Specialized Institutions, Ph.D. diss.,Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1994.

10. N. Stieber, The Professionalization of Housing Design: A Study of Collectivism andCultural Pluralism in Amsterdam, Ph.D. diss.,Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1986.Now see Stieber, Housing Design and Society in

Amsterdam: Reconguring Urban Order and Identity, 1900-1920(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998).11. E. Hobsbawm and T. Ranger, eds., TheInvention of Tradition(Cambridge:Cambridge University Press, 1983).12. J. Le Goff, Mentalities: A History of Ambiguities, in Le Goff and P. Nora, eds.,Constructing the Past: Essays in Historical Methodology (Cambridge: CambridgeUniversity Press, 1985), pp.166-80 [orig.Faire de lhistoire, vol.3, pp.76-94].13. Speaking of the architecture of theEnglish Arts and Crafts, Muthesius wrote:It was nothing other than a rejection of architectural formalism in favor of a simpleand natural, reasonable way of building.One brought nothing new to such a move-ment; everything had existed for centuries inthe vernacular architecture of the small townand rural landscape: . . . where, in earliercenturies, the country mason had followedlocal traditions in his practice. Translatedin S. Anderson, Hermann Muthesius: Style-Architecture and Building-Art: Transformationsof Architecture in the Nineteenth Century and its Present Condition(Santa Monica, CA: TheGetty Center for the History of Art and theHumanities; and Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1994), pp.96-97. The origi-nal was Muthesius, Stilarchitektur und Baukunst (Mlheim/Ruhr: K.Schimmelpfeng, 1902), p.61.

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Documents

Memory Without Monuments, Anderson