The word “typology” or “type” (same thing stripped of the esoteric tone) to architects has more than one meaning. Sometimes it refers to the shapes of buildings (shoebox, square donut, drum) and sometimes to the roles of buildings (city hall, school, library). The building’s shape and its role have often related to one another but not always. These days we tailor buildings’ shapes to their purpose, sometimes in the minutest of ways, tight as a glove. We live chastened by the now one-hundred-year-old commandment that a buildings’ form shall follow its function even as we yearn to be free, give them shapes that defy category, free up the forms.
In ancient days, there were few types of (important) buildings, few shapes and roles. You could tell the role of the building by the shape of the building. There were temples, stadiums and stoa, then basilicas, rotundas and baths, then cloisters, castles and cathedrals. This all changed around 500 years ago when new kinds of buildings emerged. City halls and palaces channeled castles and monasteries, villas collaged together Greek temple front, rotunda and stoa shapes. Then came theaters and banks that looked like temples, train stations that looked like baths, libraries like palaces, and hospitals and schools like villas.
Modernist moralists sermonized that all that borrowing of old shapes to fit new purposes was nostalgic fakery and lacked imagination. For a while in the 20th century, we decided that if we started with what they called the “social program”, meaning the purpose of the building, its function—what today we would call the “space” or “building” program-- this in combination with new technologies and materials would alone produce the look of the building, no borrowing necessary.
One consequence of this has been the excessive tailoring of the shape of the building to a program of spaces so tightly wound that buildings struggle to accommodate what modernism seemingly failed to anticipate: buildings’ purposes change (sometimes even over the course of a day). Another consequence has been the tendency to contort buildings’ shapes so much that they repel their neighbors. We get cities that are a scattershot of pick-up sticks, jacks, marbles and checkers. “If I can’t have it my way I’m picking up my toys and going home”. A lot of playing, not a whole lot of sharing.
The most flexible shape, one that more than any other for most purposes and with a few obvious exceptions, is a right-angled parallelepiped. In other words, a shoe box. Ninety-nine percent of the buildings we build would comfortably fulfill their purposes within a shape that approximates a shoe box or a combination of shoe boxes in extended rectangular (or nearly rectangular) compositions. There are few internal forces that would dictate anything but the simplest of box shapes and this ought to be our default starting point. There are, however, some internal and plenty of external forces that would suggest elaborations and deformations of the basic box—daylight, view, surrounding topography and neighboring buildings.
We might start with an “I” shape (shoebox) or an “L” shape (two shoeboxes joined at the corner) and from there try in ascending complexity a “T” “C”,”U”, “O” ,”E” or “H”. It could be fairly argued that for 4,900 years of our 5,000 years of building experience, most buildings we have built are of one of those shapes. We talk in short-hand and when we say “bar building” (“I shape), “courtyard building” ( “O” shape or square donut) or “C” or “U” shape (countless schools, apartment buildings and hotels). This is the wisdom behind the idea of typology and its utility in practice. It recognizes a trail of experience and evidence of the ability of simple building shapes to live with one another, deform as necessary to do so and accommodate any number of uses simultaneously and over time.
Does this inhibit our ability to create unique, exciting buildings? Does it trap us into a vortex of nostalgia? It does not. There is no limit to the quantity and kinds of embellishment and expression, the application of new technologies and materials toward the manipulations of simple shapes to create buildings never before seen that are also welcoming to neighbors and accommodating of new purposes we cannot foresee. It suggests a design methodology by which we first start simple then allow the complexities to unfold as circumstances and details emerge. It is freedom from the tyrannical determinism of form follows function and the intemperate wanderings of free form.