If hipsters were buildings, then Las Vegas is what their get-together would look like.
As an architecture student, I have witnessed this continuous showdown between form-lovers (the aesthetes) and function-lovers (the utilitarians). More often than not, I too have agreed with the famous phrase “Form follows function”, the architecture community openly mocks something like that fish-shaped building or the basket-shaped building, like seriously, what the heck is that? How does anyone even dare to call it a piece of architecture?
These are hilarious right? I had branded the Duck building below as an architectural joke too until I read the book ‘Learning from Las Vegas’. This book presents a totally new dimension to how architecture can change its whole meaning depending on the cultural context of a place. It questions our rigid opinions about “what architecture should be like” and opens us to accept even the most bizarre ideas which seem ridiculous at first.
Las Vegas — a city in the U.S. that sounds high in its descriptions, with a population consumed by gambling, shopping, fine dining, entertainment, and nightlife served by casinos, bars, pubs, nightclubs, live music, cinema and what not! This is where commercialisation overpowers architecture, where commercial advertising and promotion cross limits, where the streets and piazzas look enclosed within high billboards, advertisement banners and hub names dazzling with neon lights. It has rightly earned nicknames like, ‘The Sin City’, ‘The gambling capital of the world’, ‘Capital of second chances’, ‘America’s playground’ etc.
It is an architecture of communication over space. — pg 8, Learning from Las Vegas
This city asserts the fundamental importance of image and symbols that exaggerate emotions like surprise, amazement and wonder. It rebrands everything, for example, casinos are re-branded as places for gaming — with its connotations of fun, rather than gambling — with its connotations of risk. Eclecticism, which is the practice of deriving ideas, style, or taste from a broad and diverse range of sources rules this city.
Those who acknowledge this roadside eclecticism denigrate it, because it flaunts the cliche of a decade ago as well as the style of a century ago. But why not? Time travels fast today. — pg 8, Learning from Las Vegas
The book suggests that decades ago the street networks were simpler and hence wayfinding was easier, but now, with the complex branching of streets, the importance of symbols and landmarks in navigation has spiked. In that case, bold expression makes more sense than obsessing over the purity of architecture and subtle expression. This is where neon light billboards enter the scene without being belittled for being desperately attention-seeking.
The driver has no time to ponder paradoxical subtleties within a dangerous, sinuous maze. He or she relies on signs for guidance — enormous signs in vast spaces at high speeds. — pg 9, Learning from Las Vegas
These extravagant signboards communicate meanings through associations, they become easily identifiable signifiers for the locations. The signs are big and the buildings are small, and in some cases, the building itself is turned into a sign. Most built forms here are bigger in scale and higher outside than inside in order to dominate the urban setting. Now when you think of this, does the Duck Building seem as ludicrous as it did before we started this discussion? No, right?
Symbol dominates space. Architecture is not enough. Because the spatial relationships are made by symbols more than by forms, architecture in this landscape becomes a symbol in space rather than form in space. — pg 13, Learning from Las Vegas
If we take these signboards away, there will be no distinct glamour left in this city. The communicative intensity of these streets and highways can’t be translated into maps, it can only be experienced on a navigating front. Even though the streets are ordered, the visual image is chaotic with innumerable signs and symbols trying to overpower each other. Here, buildings with a sign have evolved into totally sign-covered buildings over time.
Las Vegas is the architectural equivalent of a hyperbole, inviting visitors into a world full of exclamation points.
The buildings here are far apart, making them comprehensible even at high speeds. This particular scale of movement and space of the highway brings in unconventional importance to the side elevation of built forms, because it is seen by approaching traffic from a greater distance and for a longer time than the facade.
Like Disney, Luxor (a hotel and casino in Las Vegas) is themed, offering a story line that is intended to give the visitor’s experience a meaning and coherence. But Luxor, like many similar attractions, appears to suffer from an identity crisis: it can’t seem to keep its theme together. In place of presenting one idea or trying to show one kind of place, it has jumbled together all kinds of times and places, which are removed from any sense of context or relation to each other.
It is history that has been turned into bad science fiction.
Las Vegas has a wide variety of themed environment resort hotels like Alladin, Ceaser’s Palace, Circus, Treasure Island and many more. These themes are simulations of other times and places blended in impossible combinations, thus forming a city that flaunts postmodern art philosophies like Kitsch, Collage, Pastiche, Simulacra and Simulation. Thus making it a city full of fantasy buildings, each with its own individual fancies and no intention of trying to contribute to a greater whole. If hipsters were buildings, then Las Vegas is what their get-together would look like.
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