Traditionalists' Fairytales
The grass of aesthetics is always greener on the other side.
I often enjoy reading aesthetic narratives, which I find a lot in my Twitter feed, but only up to a certain point. It seems to me that it is often a sign of another variation of the Rolls-Royce Salesmen syndrome. I mean, if you can prove what you claim, I will believe you. But only few do prove their points, the others stay anonymous and faceless.
A common fallacy is confusing classics with usability. I suspect some traditionalists who enjoy old buildings have never lived in those, otherwise, they would not be so excited. For example, try to fix a curtain or heat up the space if your ceiling is six meters high. They often admire places like that from a tourist point of view only. Then the tourist returns to his boring urban area close to, say, Munich with underground parking, a supermarket nearby, wheelchair ramps, elevators, and convenient ceiling height to fix a curtain, and … he’s happy.
And don’t get me wrong, I admire high ceilings. The place I live in now has four meters at the highest point, but this nicety has its price.
Bruges for tourists is a fantastic choice. For living? Perhaps yes, if you are a student without a family, without a car, looking to have fun and not minding street noise, old piping and wiring, awkward floor plans, mold, and squeaky floors.
Another cross-topic is the critique of modern design. For some reason, certain traditionalists assume that “bare spartan” is always nice and practical. The photo on the right is actually good. The one on the left, though, can be a nightmare. That table is awful. Bad design, which can often be judged quite objectively, is frequently uncomfortably close to poverty, although there’s no direct correlation. Still, bad design can make anything unbearable, no matter the cost, effort, or good intentions.
And of course, there are always people who try to inject metaphysics into otherwise peaceful matters.
It is very strange because the assumption is that there is a metaphysical quality ("lovability") that people are supposed to perceive in the same way. Not really. I like concrete and plastic as much as I love bricks and wood. How does that relate to "lovability"? I love Frank Gehry’s works, for instance.
Epilogue
All traditionalists in the world will not answer how to warm up a room with over 5-meter-high ceilings in Russian winter conditions, because it is impossible. That does not mean the palace isn’t beautiful, though. There is always hope that one day we will be able to find a solution that pleases everyone.
