Oskar Hansen: Opening Modernism (fragment / a part)

oskar hansen: opening modernism on open form architecture, art and 足d idactics

oskar hansen: opening modernism on open form architecture, art and ­d idactics edited by aleksandra kĘdziorek Łukasz ronduda MUSEUM OF MODERN ART IN WARSAW 2014 BOOKS N°8

The museum under construction book series We are building a Museum of Modern Art in Warsaw We are writing a new history of art

BOOKS N°8

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TABLE OF CONTENTs

5

Oskar Hansen, Zofia Hansen

iII

The Open Form in Architecture— the Art of the Great Number Aleksandra Kędziorek, Łukasz Ronduda

Introduction

i

7

Katarzyna Murawska-Muthesius

Open Form, Public Sculpture and the Counter-Memorial: Encounters Between Henry Moore and Oskar Hansen

11

iV

POLITICS OF SCALE

Visiting the Hansens 29

Łukasz Stanek

Team 10 East: The Socialist State as an Architectural Project Andrzej Szczerski

LCS, or What Is a City?

61 91

Aleksandra Kędziorek

PREVI: Experimental Housing Project in Lima

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Architecture OF EVENTS Felicity d. Scott

Space Educates Łukasz Mojsak

The Polish Radio Experimental Studio Aleksandra Kędziorek

The Studio Theater

v

231

Art and Open Form Jola Gola

The Didactics of Oskar Hansen

259

Aleksandra Kędziorek

Adaptation Proposal for the Seat of the Warsaw Academy of Fine Arts’ Faculty of Sculpture Łukasz Ronduda

Visual Games

277 281

Karol Sienkiewicz

137

You Live and You Learn: Open Form Put to the Test David Crowley

163 167

Tomasz Fudala

Architects on the Fringe: Polish Exhibition Design After 1945

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House AS OPEN FORM Aleksandra Kędziorek

Joan Ockman

Oskar Hansen’s Radical Humanism: Open Form Against a Cold War Background

Counter-Memorial

171

287

Walking with Hansen

315

Oskar Hansen: a Biography

341

Photo Credits

359

17 PART I POLITICS OF SCALE

19 Oskar Hansen and team, conceptual diagram for the spatial development of Poland within the Linear Continuous System, 1972

20 (1) Study of the Linear Continuous System: social development phase, date unknown (2) Linear Continuous System: Masovia Belt, design: Oskar Hansen and team, 1968

21 Linear Continuous System: Western Belt (II), design: Oskar Hansen and team, 1976; (1) section through a housing “rack,�

(2) model of the settlement structure

22 Juliusz Słowacki Housing Estate in Lublin, design: Oskar Hansen and Zofia Hansen, 1961, realization: 1963 –19 66, aerial view

23 model of Przyczółek Grochowski Housing Estate in Warsaw, design: Oskar Hansen and Zofia Hansen, 1963, realization: 1968 – 1973

24 Low–cost housing estate for 10,000 people in Lima, design: Oskar Hansen and Svein Hatløy, 1969 – 1972, project

25 Low–cost housing estate for 10,000 people in Lima, design: Oskar Hansen and Svein Hatløy, 1969 – 1972, realization

26 Oskar Hansen, “A dream of Warsaw,” 2005, Foksal Gallery Foundation, Warsaw, exhibition view

Joan Ockman is a historian of architecture, critic and educator. Her publications on modern and contemporary architecture include Architecture Culture 1943–1968: A Documentary Anthology (1993), The Pragmatist Imagination: Thinking about Things in the Making (2000) and Architecture School: Three Centuries of Educating Architects in North America (2012).

She has taught at Columbia, Harvard, Cornell, the City University of New York, the Berlage Institute and Cooper Union, and is currently Distinguished Senior Fellow at the University of Pennsylvania School of Design. She is completing a book on architecture and the Cold War.

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Oskar Hansen’s Radical Humanism: Open Form against a Cold War Background

I

n April 1957, in the new climate of the post-Stalin thaw, the Polish journal Twórczość published a special issue on French culture.

Among the contributors was Jean-Paul Sartre. A dozen years earlier, Sartre’s lecture “Existentialism Is a Humanism” had been denounced by leading Marxists, from Henri Lefebvre in France to György Lukács in Hungary. At a conference of intellectuals held in Wrocław in 1948, the Soviet ideologue Alexander Fadeev went so far as to call Sartre “a hyena writing on a typewriter.” 1 A postwar philosophical sensation, existentialism was, from the standpoint of communist orthodoxy, a product of the despair and disillusionment engendered by bourgeois individualism.

Humanism and Marxism By the early 1950s, however, Sartre was the preeminent spokesman of the French Left, having embraced Marxism as the “unsurpassable horizon” of contemporary thought and existentialism as a critical “enclave” within it. His contribution to Twórczość, “Marxism and Existentialism,” reappeared the following fall in his own 1

Cited in Marci Shore, Caviar and Ashes: A Warsaw Generation’s Life and Death in Marxism, 1918–1968, New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006, p. 272.

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journal, Les Temps Modernes, as “Questions de méthode.” It argued for the compatibility between existentialism and what he saw as the core of Marx’s philosophy, namely a radical concept of humanism.

Three years later, in 1960, he would republish the essay as an extended preface to his magnum opus, Critique de la raison dialectique.2 In “Questions de méthode” Sartre assailed doctrinaire Marxism for its determinism and abstractness, insisting on the need for a deeper psychological analysis and more concrete anthropology. The fatal flaw in the existing understanding of Marxist materialism, in his view, was its lack of a revolutionary theory of subjectivity.

“Our intention is not,” he stated in reply to his critics, “to ‘give the irrational its due,’ but, on the contrary, to reduce the part of indetermination and non-knowledge, not to reject Marxism in the name of a third path or of an idealist humanism, but to reconquer man within Marxism.”3 Notwithstanding the divagations of his own intellectual itinerary, Sartre’s humanism—a synthesis of Marx’s early writings, Husserlian phenomenology and Freudian psychoanalysis— responded to a wide European experience. An effort to make sense of the trauma of the Second World War and the looming threats posed by the Cold War and the atomic bomb, it was steeped in the ethos of the recent resistance movements across the continent, in which he had personally played some part, and the sufferings of the wartime occupation and prison camps, which he had also endured.

Like his unfinished novel cycle Les Chemins de la liberté [Roads to Freedom], three volumes of which were published between 1945 and 1949, it grappled with the largest philosophical and moral issues of the day: oppression and alienation under both fascism and capitalism, the relationship between political activism and ideological commit2

3

“Marksizm i egzystencjalizm,” Twórczość, no. 4, April 1957, pp. 33–79. The essay was revised for French publication and appeared in two installments: “Questions de méthode: Existentialisme et marxisme,” Les Temps Modernes, no. 139, September 1957, pp. 338–417, and “Questions de méthode II,” Les Temps Modernes, no. 140, October 1957, pp. 658–697. The English translation, by Hazel Barnes, is Search for a Method, New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1963. Sartre writes: “I consider Marxism the one philosophy of our time which we cannot go beyond and […] hold the ideology of existence and its ‘comprehensive’ method to be an enclave inside Marxism.” Search for a Method, p. xxiv.

Search for a Method, op.cit., p. 83.

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Oskar Hansen’s Radical Humanism

ment, and freedom as the ultimate aim and responsibility of human existence.

Such concerns could hardly have failed to resonate with a socially and culturally engaged Polish architecture student living in Paris in the late 1940s. Oskar Hansen had joined the Armia Krajowa [Home Army] during the war, his country’s major antifascist resistance movement.4 In 1948 he received a French government scholarship to pursue studies in Paris. To my knowledge he never mentions Sartre in his writings or interviews, and it is not my intent here to suggest any direct influence. Yet the overarching project to “reconquer man within Marxism” was in the air du temps. Although Hansen’s theory of Open Form did not come to fruition until after the diktat of socialist realism was lifted in late 1956, it had its germination in the immediate postwar period and in the intellectual and aesthetic crosscurrents flowing between Poland and Paris. It partook of a view of “man” as a subject who is not merely a cog in a system, but an individual who actively participates in the making of his own history.

Not just in the making of his own history, though, but in the making of his own physical environment: Hansen also shared with Sartre a fundamental belief in the primacy of lived space. For both the philosopher and architect, the possibility of human freedom and self-determination is intrinsically bound up with the openness and availability of the spatial-temporal field in which one is situated. In “Questions de méthode,” Sartre insists that Marxist analy4

Hansen’s wartime experience was chaotic. A nationalized Pole born in Helsinki, he was 17 years old when the Second World War broke out and was living with his family in Vilnius, a city contested by Poland and Lithuania. In 1941 the Soviets occupied Vilnius. During the early years of the war Hansen attended a course in mechanics at Vilnius Technical College. After completing this course in 1942, he joined an older brother fighting on behalf of Finland against the Soviet Union. He was detained in an NKVD prison camp in Riga and from there sent to a Latvian farm where he was forced to do slave labor. He escaped back to Vilnius, where he was arrested again, this time by the Gestapo. Released by mistake, he went into hiding and then, with two of his brothers, joined a unit of the Polish Home Army. The Home Army cooperated with the Soviets in an operation to liberate Vilnius from the Germans in July 1944. Immediately afterward, however, the Soviets turned on their Polish allies, interning or deporting many of them. Hansen managed to avoid this last wave of arrests and was repatriated in January 1945 to what was now communist Poland.

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sis must go beyond its classic preoccupations with class interests and relations of production to concern itself with the actual sites where human consciousness is shaped: “the milieu of our life, with its institutions, its monuments, its instruments, its cultural ‘infinites’ […], its fetishes, its social temporality and its ‘hodological’ space,” he writes, “this also must be made the object of our study.”

Sartre invokes the notion of hodological space on multiple occasions in his writings of the 1940s and 50s. He derives it, not without qualifications, from Kurt Lewin, a Gestalt psychologist who contributed to founding several new fields of social research in the U.S., including group dynamics and environmental theory.5 Applying “hodological principles,” Lewin used topological representation to describe and diagram the pathways interconnecting individuals with their environment. Like the word “odometer,” the instrument on the dashboard that measures the distance an automobile has traveled, “hodology” comes from the Greek word for path, route or road. As opposed to the objective geometry of Euclidean space, hodological space is fluid, qualitative and subjective. It is the space of embodied consciousness moving through the world, a road map of directions according to which daily life and future projects are mentally plotted and carried out. Elsewhere, in an essay on the painter David Hare, Sartre describes it as “furrowed by paths and currents, contracted or expanded by our actions, colored by our emotions—a space that clings to us like our clothes.”6 In the largest sense, hodological space is coextensive with “life, animal and human life as it appears when it undergoes refraction in a human environment.”7 5

6

7

Kurt Lewin (1890–1947), born near Poznań in present-day Poland, was a refugee from Nazi Germany who was loosely associated with the early Institute for Social Research in Frankfurt. He emigrated to the U.S. in 1933. In addition to drawing on Gestalt theory, his spatial-environmental ideas were influenced by the Estonian biologist Jakob von Uexküll, whose writings would later have an impact on Sartre’s colleague Merleau-Ponty by way of Heideggerian phenomenology.

Jean-Paul Sartre, “Sculptures à n dimensions,” Derrière le miroir, no. 5, October 1947; tranlated as “X-Dimensional Sculpture,” Paris–New York, Arts Yearbook 3, 1959, p. 162. For a more extensive description of these experiential dynamics, see Sartre’s description of the space of a room in Search for a Method, op.cit., pp. 152–155.

“X-Dimensional Sculpture,” op.cit., p. 162.

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Hansen’s own life work, which he would describe as an “art of environment,” 8 comes close to FIG. 1 / P. 222 Sartre’s metaphysics of lived space. Like Sartre, he conceived of the physical environment as a psychogeographic frame of reference both refracting and refracted by its occupants. “It acts on us and we on it,” as Sartre writes. 9 For Hansen this reciprocating relationship became the basis for an original spatial practice, one that ceased to approach architecture as the making of authorially defined and signed objects, but rather as a continuous negotiation between a foreground and what he called an “absorptive background”—a space designed or coordinated by someone visually and technically specialized to do so. 10 The relationship between the foreground and the absorptive background could be represented by means of a sculpturesque topological model that Hansen called an “active negative,” an analytical and pedagogical tool intended to register subjective perceptions of the given environment. [FIG.1] The Context of the Context Like Sartre’s existentialism, Hansen’s Open Form needs to be understood in a larger context: as a reflection on, and critique of, a specific historical and existential situation. The background against which Hansen’s thought and work developed functioned very literally as an “active negative” (to use this term in a slightly different way from Hansen himself). The Cold War divide between East and West, the bad faith to which it gave rise on both sides, was the antithesis of any idea of openness. For Hansen it obstructed the pathway to an emancipatory life-space. It was imperative to reject binary logic; this meant transcending not only the cor8

9

10

See Wojciech Włodarczyk, “Rozmowa z Oskarem Hansenem,” in W kręgu Formy Otwartej: wystawa w auli Akademii Sztuk Pięknych w Warszawie 25 kwietnia – 23 maja 1986, edited by Jola Gola et al., exh. cat., Warszawa: Muzeum Akademii Sztuk Pięknych w Warszawie, 1986.

Sartre, “X-Dimensional Sculpture,” op.cit., p. 162. See the following statement by Hansen: “The term Open Form comes from the fact that the form awaits action on the part of the occupant; it is set up to be developed.” Oskar Hansen, “To Break Down Barriers between the Audience and the Actor,” Poland. Illustrated Magazine, no. 10, October 1975, p. 38.

A translation of the Polish “chłonne tło,” the term “absorptive background” is perhaps misleading given that what Hansen sought to describe was a process that goes in both directions.

119 PART Ii Architecture OF EVENTS

121 Polish Pavilion at Izmir International Fair, design: Oskar Hansen and Lech Tomaszewski, 1955; (1) drawing by Lech Tomaszewski (2) realization

122 Polish Pavilion in S達o Paulo, design: Oskar Hansen, Zofia Hansen, Lech Tomaszewski, 1959

123 Solo exhibition at Salon Po prostu in Warsaw, design: Oskar Hansen, 1957

124 Exhibition in Redoubt Rooms of National Theater in Warsaw, design: Oskar Hansen and Krzysztof Meisner, 1957

125 model of Expansion design for Zachęta Gallery in Warsaw, design: Oskar Hansen, Lech Tomaszewski and Stanisław Zamecznik, 1958

126 Expansion design for Zachęta Gallery in Warsaw, design: Oskar Hansen, Lech Tomaszewski and Stanisław Zamecznik, 1958, a model presenting transformable interior

127 “My Place, My Music” Pavilion for Contemporary Music Festival in Warsaw, design: Oskar Hansen and Zofia Hansen, 1958; (1) side views (2) top view

128 Polish Radio Experimental Studio in Warsaw, design: Oskar Hansen and team, 1962, plan

129 Polish Radio Experimental Studio in Warsaw, design: Oskar Hansen and team, 1962, realization

130 Polish Radio Experimental Studio in Warsaw, design: Oskar Hansen and team, 1962, realization

131 Polish Radio Experimental Studio in Warsaw, design: Oskar Hansen and team, 1962, realization

132 Museum of Modern Art project for Skopje, design: Oskar Hansen, Svein Hatløy, Barbara Cybulska, Lars Fasting, 1966

133 Museum of Modern Art in Skopje, design: Oskar Hansen, Svein Hatløy, Barbara Cybulska, Lars Fasting, 1966, a detail model

134 Renovation design for Studio Theater in Warsaw, design: Oskar Hansen and team, 1972, a model

Felicity D. Scott is Associate Professor of Architecture and founding director of the program in Critical, Curatorial and Conceptual Practices in Architecture (CCCP) at the Columbia University Graduate School of Architecture, Preservation and Planning. Her research focuses on articulating genealogies of political and theoretical engagement with questions of technological transformation within modern and contemporary architecture, as well as within the discourses and institutions that have shaped and defined the discipline. In addition to publishing numerous articles in journals, magazines and edited anthologies, her book Architecture or TechnoUtopia: Politics After Modernism was published

by MIT Press in 2007, and Living Archive 7: Ant Farm, appeared on ACTAR Editorial in 2008.

She is currently working on a book titled Outlaw Territories: Environments of Insecurity/Architectures of Counter-Insurgency, 1966–1979 to be published by Zone Books.

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“E

ight years after designing the ‘platonic’ cube for the Zachęta Gallery in Warsaw, I was nagged by its imitative, anachronistic form,” Oskar Hansen reflected in a text titled “Process and Art,” to which he added, “especially since it concerned art.”1 Hansen was referring to the unrealized extension to the CBWA (Central Bureau of Artistic Exhibitions) of the Zachęta Gallery of 1958, undertaken in collaboration with Stanisław Zamecznik and Lech Tomaszewski. To the existing neoclassical gallery, they proposed attaching a didactic contemporary double, similar in depth but departing dramatically in materials, conception and formal composition. [FIG.1, 2] Within the framework of a steel-framed, glazed cube, the walls, floors and staircases of the proposed extension were to operate as movable components that could be configured and reconfigured into a range of gallery spaces: imbued with the techno-utopian ideals and liberatory rhetoric characteristic of the “de-Stalinization” of the late 1950s, the architects hoped to offer both curators and artists “total free-

1

Oskar Hansen, “‘Process and Art’—Competition entry, Museum of Modern Art, Skopje, 1966,” in id., Towards Open Form / Ku Formie Otwartej, edited by Jola Gola, Warszawa: Fundacja Galerii Foksal, Muzeum ASP w Warszawie, Frankfurt: Revolver, 2005, pp. 116–119.

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Felicity D. Scott

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Space Educates

FIG. 3 / P. 132

dom for the design of the enclosed space.”2 With the FIG. 1 / P. 125 institutional space of the gallery no longer operating as a rigid constraint on the scale of artistic production or the environment in which that production was displayed, the architects hoped that the transformable building might transcend the contingencies of formfunction relations so dear to modernism and also, in Hansen’s words, “assist the birth of the art of the future.”3 Hansen presented the Zachęta Gallery project at the landmark CIAM conference in Otterlo in 1959—along with collaborative designs for the Auschwitz memorial and for a residential quarter in Warsaw FIG. 2 / P. 126 (Rakowiec)—as a positive manifestation of Open Form.

Yet in retrospect, the Zachęta Gallery extension could indeed seem anachronistic in its literal rendering of physical and programmatic adaptability achieved through mechanical parts. The occasion for Hansen’s reflection on the 1958 design was his return to the problem of a contemporary art gallery, this time for a competition entry for the Museum of Modern Art in Skopje, Macedonia, in 1966, undertaken in collaboration with Svein Hatløy, Barbara Cybulska and Lars Fasting, which Hansen presented at the Team 10 meeting in Urbino that year. In “Process and Art,” his text dedicated to the unrealized Skopje project, Hansen continued: Art is unpredictable in its development. We assumed that the role of the contemporary gallery should be to go towards that unknown in art. Not only in exhibiting it, but encouraging and provoking its birth.4 Both gallery projects thus sought not only to reflect extant conditions but to sponsor or provoke change. Unlike the Zachęta extension, essentially (to reiterate) a mechanical apparatus, 2

3 4

Hansen, “Die Offene Form,” Werk, no. 58, September 1971, pp. 614–624. On the effect of the “de-Stalinizing thaw” on artistic practice, see David Crowley, “Sounding the Body Electric,” in Sounding the Body Electric: Experiments in Art and Music in Eastern Europe, 1957–1984, edited by David Crowley and Daniel Muzyczuk, Łódź: Muzeum Sztuki, 2013, pp. 8–103.

Hansen, “Die Offene Form,” op.cit., p. 621.

Hansen, “‘Process and Art’—Competition entry, Museum of Modern Art, Skopje, 1966,” op.cit., pp. 116–119.

Skopje was conceived by Hansen as an “electronically controlled ‘gallery instrument,’” one capable of “sculpting an architectural space, ‘live,’ before the eyes, or of the public creating visual performances.”5 In this embrace of electronics we find traces of a broader impact upon the artistic and cultural imaginary of a key initiative within the Moscow-led destalinizing thaw: FIG. 4 / P. 133 the “Scientific-Technological Revolution,” with its promise of bringing Eastern Bloc countries into a competitive position against the West.6 The Skopje project [FIG.3] had two distinct components that self-consciously straddled the conceptual divide between the two museums projects. First was “a conventional exposition [space] based on Euclidian geometry, similar to the Zachęta Gallery expansion project, or the Centre Pompidou” that would house the permanent collection. The second component was cast by the architects as departing both from this first, now seemingly more anachronistic Cartesian schema, and from “the expressively idealistic, static form of a nearby mosque.” Combining, as they put it, “hyperbolic and non-Euclidian geometry,” it employed a distinct modular structure comprised of a series of “mobile trapezoidal supports lifted by telescopic poles” that could be deployed and redeployed to create alternative temporary gallery spaces according to the desires or instructions of its users. Stressing the increased agency afforded to the user, and hence an implied refusal of centralized control, this transformable, hydraulically driven apparatus was to be “electronically controlled by the artist,” and would rise out of the ground to produce (or perform) a specific temporary configuration for a particular exhibition then withdraw or retract underground until a new iteration was provoked. [FIG.4] Surely one of the strangest ideas proposed for a museum, the design sought to create a radically unstable, unpredictable, animated building set within a modernist structure and 5 6

Ibid., p. 116.

See “Soviet Science: The Scientific and Technological Revolution,” in Stanley Aronowitz, Science as Power: Discourse and Ideology in Modern Society, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1988, pp. 201–238.

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against traditional spaces. In Hansen’s words, it was like a “space growing out of the ground like a tree.”7 Departing from fixed form or composition, architecture was conceived not only as a medium to be completed through interaction with a user and as somehow aligned with nature in its manner of unfolding or growth, but as conceptually affiliated with time-based, electronic media, like an instrument or piece of equipment. It was, they claimed, “the quintessence of a contemporary art museum.” In more recent years, he suggested about the design: “You’d be able to compose space like music.”8 Although Hansen situated both museum projects under the umbrella of Open Form, distinctions between them offer clues to an important and symptomatic transformation in his conception of how Open Form could operate within architecture. At stake in Open Form, as in many other process-oriented and eventbased practices of the period, was the question of how to produce a work without predetermining its final form (or without it having a final form), and how to set out something like a minimal structuring system (sometimes a script or set of constraints) that would facilitate interactions (or forms of participation) without determining outcomes. The question implicitly asked by the work is therefore how to allow for openness and transformation, or even something like “feedback.” The concept of Open Form emerged during a pivotal moment for modern architecture, as the discipline attempted to come to terms with a postwar world that was being radically transformed by (among other forces) computers, new communication technologies and ongoing research into cybernetic and systems-based paradigms then playing out on both sides of the Iron Curtain, albeit often with distinct valences. In line with contemporaneous experiments in art and music, with which the work was closely in dialogue, Hansen and his collaborators thus sought to depart from conventional disciplinary norms and the fixed or finite works they gave rise to and engage the seemingly open-ended log7 8

Oskar Hansen, Hans Ulrich Obrist and Philippe Parreno, “Excerpts from an Interview for Domus magazine, December 2003,” in Hansen, Towards Open Form, op.cit., p. 213.

Ibid.

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ics and transformative aesthetic potentialities and modes of participation sponsored by these new paradigms. If Hansen’s initial formulation of Open Form already encapsulated or implicitly reflected these historical forces and their immanent social, technological and political ramifications, his latter work seems to have been haunted by a more direct encounter with post-industrial technologies. Before turning to look at some early works, I want to quickly rehearse some other points of Hansen’s thesis.

Hansen presented his thesis in Otterlo under the title “The Open Form in Architecture—the Art of the Great Number.” As set out in his manifesto, Open Form sought to transform existent relations between the individual and the collective, an old theme but one that took on particular valences within Hansen’s work in Poland and other Eastern Bloc countries, especially during the height of Cold War battles for cultural, technological and territorial dominance.

Open Form, as he put it, stressing the “client’s psychological need of identity,” aimed “to aid the individual in finding himself in the collective, to make him indispensable in the creation of his own surroundings.”9 During this era of massive urbanization and rapidly transforming technologies, Hansen theorized the solution to this problem in terms of creating the mutual “permeation” or interpenetration of objective conditions (derived from the community, technical equipment, construction protocols, communication media, political system, etc.) and subjective elements (the domain of the individual).

This translated in architectural terms into the provision of an infrastructure or organizational framework within which—or a kit of parts through which—individuals attained a degree of agency to configure or adapt their own spaces.

Central to what Hansen called a “completely new architectural task” was also, as he put it in Otterlo, the “communicative transmission to our psychology of the organic and bountiful chaos of events.” In other words, he refused the uniform and stripped-down aesthetic logic and manifest orderliness and stability of architectural modernism, and sought the communication of radical hetero9

Oskar Hansen and Zofia Hansen, “The Open Form in Architecture—the Art of the Great Number,” in Oscar Newman, CIAM ‘59 in Otterlo, Stuttgart: Karl Krämer, 1961, p. 190. The text is reprinted in this volume.