11 Information and Symmetry

Aldo Rossi, Teatro del Mondo. Venice, Italy, 1979-1980

Architecture’s two-decade long emphasis on language, linguistics, and meaning was challenged in the early 1990s. The penetration of information technologies and computational capacity into the design process made it easier to represent and build dramatically different forms—forms that looked unfamiliar and performed in unfamiliar ways. Computer aided design and manufacturing methods made it almost as easy to make one-of-a-kind asymmetrical surfaces, spaces and structures as regular, repeated, and symmetrical ones. The answer to the question “where does form come from?” was increasingly: from “computer software, hardware, and algorithms.”

However, this did not mean that symmetry was abandoned. As the title of Greg Lynn’s 1995 essay “The New Novelty of Symmetry” suggests, symmetry was still present, but in a different way.1 Drawing on lessons from biology and genetics, for Lynn the novelty was in positioning symmetry as an initial condition to be overcome rather than an essence to aspire to. Similarly, Preston Scott Cohen’s Contested Symmetries uses symmetry as a foil against which to argue for more complex geometries.2 These were not attempts to discard this disciplinary constant once and for all. Rather, they were operations that re-appropriated and rebooted it as an important beginning rather than an ideal end. For these and other authors and architects, instead of being positioned as a sign of stability and beauty, symmetry is understood as a primitive state to be evolved away from. As in embryology, symmetry can be understood as a homogenous state that will become differentiated as energy and information are added to it. The analogies of embryology and evolution are important ones, for along with their cultural equivalents of repetition and learning, they provide insight into the understanding of the relationship of symmetrical and asymmetrical architectural form in the information age.

Difference and Information

Among the traditional arguments for symmetry is the allegedly empathetic relationship it produces between our bodies and buildings. Symmetry allows us to recognize ourselves in the things we make for ourselves. It has also been understood as the ideal version of a body.3 But a building is not a body, or not a biological body at least. Its form does not come into being in the same way that biological forms do. Nor does symmetry function in the same way in architecture as it does in the natural world. Philip Ball has studied where biological form comes from, how it is related to symmetry and patterning, and the underlying processes that govern them. One question he asks is how do undifferentiated elements, such as a fertilized egg or a seed, transform themselves into a highly specific one? How does formal and functional specificity emerge out of homogeneity? In particular, how does this epigenetic process consistently and automatically occur?4

One answer is that stable formal patterns emerge from generic ones only in conditions that are far from equilibrium—conditions in which there is a steady supply of energy that fuels the change and/or a predictable exchange of information that guides the transformation process.5 In these situations symmetry is a starting condition that is broken, reformed, and broken again. Symmetry is the necessary starting point of the forming process. Where one finds symmetry as an end state, for example, in the skeletons of mammals or the distribution of leaves on a plant, it is not because their symmetrical distribution of elements mimics an a priori ideal, but because this configuration provides an adaptive advantage in the natural selection process.

Gregory Bateson observed how this natural process is categorically distinct from how humans create form, architectural or otherwise. He argues that there are two parts to the forming process: the epigenetic and the evolutionary. In the former, there are forces and impacts. In the latter, there is information and differences. He notes that “the essence of epigenesis is predictable repetition, the essence of learning and evolution is exploration and change.”6 In epigenetic growth, formal effects occur automatically and are the results of “concrete conditions or events—impacts, forces, (...) and energy exchange.”7 In evolution and learning—“the world of communication and organization”—information has to be consciously preserved, taught, and relearned.8 In this realm, formal change is produced by informational “differences” rather than force.9

The passing on of cultural knowledge is a hybrid process, “it must attempt to use the phenomena of learning for the purpose of repetition.”10 In other words, it must produce the effects of epigenesis, i.e. the consistent passing on of useful information, via a distinct method. If information, or form, is not useful, it will disappear. This sequence is the same in natural and cultural systems, where new forms and ideas are accepted or rejected by the context in which they emerge from. Symmetry is one idea that has survived. Having entered into natural and cultural realms, it has proven itself useful at preserving and passing on information from one generation to the next. It does this precisely because of its ability to remain invariant in the face of multiple transformations.

Embryological Form

Following Bateson, we can say that invariance is an indication of the absence of difference in a system. In biological bodies symmetry can also be a sign that information is missing. Gregory Bateson’s father, the biologist William Bateson observed that mutations occurring during the embryological process often produced symmetrical forms where, ordinarily, they would have been asymmetrical ones. He concluded that this was due to a lack of genetic information. For example, the presence of an extra leg in a beetle or an extra thumb on the human hand will always create a symmetrical relationship with its neighboring appendages. This led him to conclude that the basic biological default, or uniformed, state was symmetrical.

This means that, instead of being a marker of higher orders, symmetry is a sign of missing information. Broken symmetry illustrates when a system is functioning properly, and asymmetrical forms are more complex than symmetrical ones. That the former required more information than the latter would prove to be paradigmatic in an age where information and information technology would be the source on new architectural forms. When Greg Lynn referenced William Bateson’s work in “The New Novelty of Symmetry,” the latter’s findings were almost a century old. What had changed was the computational capacity to measure and manipulate this law of nature. The order present in asymmetry, long hidden, could now be revealed, as the increased speed of information processing made it possible to understand and manipulate this more intricate order.

Lynn’s work investigated how these insights and tools can be used to create architectural form using the same symmetry-breaking processes. In his aforementioned text he illustrates techniques he used to design his competition entry for the Cardiff Bay Opera House. Generic diagrams—made with computer software— illustrating the symmetry-breaking and branching processes found in natural systems are juxtaposed with those showing a similar process used to create the project. Both diagrams and design drawings use an oval as a “primitive” geometric shape. As the oval is divided, repeated, and scaled up or down, a globally asymmetrical configuration, made up of symmetrical elements, emerges. Symmetry is not abandoned. It still outlines the initial condition from which asymmetry will emerge, as well as governing local relationships. The latter occurs when there is no new information put in the system, for example, when two spaces have the same program and size their relationship to one another is symmetrical.

Symmetric Matter

Whereas Greg Lynn’s point of reference for producing new architectural forms was biology, Reiser + Umemoto’s starting point was geological. In the book, Atlas of Novel Tectonics, their interest is positioned as a move away from geometry. Instead, their focus is on the organizational logics found in the literal matter from which things are made.11 Such a position is not dependent upon or driven by digital tools. However, those tools do make it easier to unpack the complex informational structures that govern the formation of matter, and they make it easier to translate their logic into architectural space and form.

Despite their declared de-emphasis of geometry, there is a consistent presence in their work of two and threedimensional diagonal grids. Jesse Reiser has attributed his interest in this configuration to his childhood fascination with the Wellington Bomber. The diagrid also has an architectural pedigree. Buckminster Fuller’s interest in the structural potential of this uniform system is well known and highly influential. Reiser + Umemoto deployed diagrids in a number of proposals in the 1990s and the early 2000s, including their competition entries

for the Yokohama Port Terminal, the Alishan Railway Route, and the Westside Convergence Center. In each case, a symmetrical diamond pattern was transformed into an idiosyncratic one that accommodates different functional and structural tasks.

The dynamic between symmetry and asymmetry, between a uniform diagrid and a variety of specific architectural performances is also present in their O14 Tower in Dubai, completed in 2010. The base diagrid has uniform openings with rounded corners. In order to create different lighting and thermal conditions, as well accommodating different views, they needed differently sized apertures. This, in turn, produced specific structural demands, which required smaller openings. They ultimately settled on four sizes of diamond-shaped apertures: smaller ones to handle structural and shading needs, and larger ones for views, ventilation, and daylight. The R+U team developed and ran computer algorithms to create designs. Each integrated and satisfied the multiple demands placed on it. Multiple iterations satisfied the goals that the code was asked to resolve. In parametric design processes such as this, any solution that does not satisfy the requirements would be eliminated. This should not be mistaken as an example of learning as described by Bateson. The criteria for success were given in advance, with the code used to uncover and replicate all the good answers.

This process is less successful when it comes to making the evolutionary act of selection. None of the solutions offered by the algorithm were acceptable to Reiser + Umemoto. The ultimate selection required a more random input—namely, the personal sensibility (or aesthetic preferences) of the designers themselves. A few subjective adjustments were made to the digital outputs (“by hand”) to the otherwise objectively equivalent solutions.12 This allowed for a solution that was more aesthetically appealing (and only slightly less optimal at a functional level) to the designers—a requirement that was not a part of the original algorithm. It would be a mistake to conclude that only idiosyncratic, aesthetic decisions qualify as creative and/ or random. The process consistently combines epigenetic and exploratory processes, which are less contradictory than they are complementary, as they combine transformations with invariances. This combination is registered in the final design of the O14 Tower. Despite the irregular distribution of the different opening types, the original symmetrical diagrid is clearly present. The undifferentiated/symmetrical portions of the diagrid serve as the initial and limiting condition from which the specific form emerged. Symmetry may no longer be an end goal but, as a starting point, its power lies in its ability to combine stability and change, to accommodate information without being completely overwhelmed by it. More Information

In an age of almost instant communication, it has been easy to replicate the underlying processes and sensibility found in Reiser + Umemoto’s digital diagrid projects. It remains to be seen, however, if the cultural and historical context into which these techniques and forms have been placed will ultimately accept or reject them. Will they force their environment to adapt to their presence or will their randomness be rejected? Such evolutionary selections cannot be predicted in advance, they can only be tested by more repetitions and explorations, actions that will in turn produce additional transformations and invariances. In other words, they will continue to be defined in symmetrical terms.

1 Greg Lynn, “The Renewed Novelty of Symmetry,” Assemblage 26 (April, 1995), 8-37. 2 Preston Scott Cohen, Contested Symmetries and Other Predicaments in Architecture (New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 2001). 3 Philip Tabor, “Fearful Symmetry,” Architectural Review vol. 173 no. 1023, (May, 1982), 18-25. 4 Philip Ball, Bodies in The Self-Made Tapestry: Pattern Formation in Nature (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), 77-109. 5 Ibid. 6 Gregory Bateson, Mind and Nature (New York: Dutton, 1979), 44. 7 Gregory Bateson, “Form, Substance, Difference,” Steps to an Ecology of Mind (New York: Ballantine, 1972), 459. 8 Bateson, Mind and Nature, 44. 9 Gregory Bateson, “Form, Substance, Difference,” Steps to an Ecology of Mind (New York: Ballantine, 1972), 459. 10 Bateson, Mind and Nature, 44. 11 Jesse Reiser and Nanako Umemoto, “Matter,” Atlas of Novel Tectonics (New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 2006), 71-162. 12 Jesse Reiser, Public panel discussion for the exhibition The Synthetic Intelligence of Patterns, Graduate School of Design, Harvard University, (February, 2009).