History's ideal should be
the story of all people and all thought. From our earliest days
we
are taught that history began as soon as people began to write down
information.
However, even in the most literate societies very few people ever
actually
write anything or are the subjects of written material. The world
of artifacts–items that were made or used or both–can fill in this gap,
challenging us with as many questions as written material, and
providing
answers as well. Often, in the absence of writing, artifacts are
all there is to provide us with these answers. The work of Henry
Glassie relies on this proposition, and upon one specific type of
artifact–the
building.
In Folk Housing in Middle
Virginia, Glassie surveys about 200 buildings in Louisa County in the
heart
of the Virginia countryside, states his theories and methods of
understanding
them and their significance, and draws historical conclusions.
His
method, which he calls a "structural" approach, looks closely at the
form
each artifact takes and the rules by which it is made. Glassie
attempts
to know the rules of "grammar" (his metaphor) that governed the form of
the unspoken "sentences" that are his houses (Camille Wells'
metaphor).
For instance, he first makes the basic observation that every building
he surveyed for the book uses a geometric square or some variation
thereof.
On this basis, he divides the houses into group X, which uses a full
square,
group Y, which uses less than a full square, and Z, which adds to
it.
He gives less attention to changes in fashion and to practical
matters.
His analytical system is sound, but poorly explained; his use of the
word
"competence" for the ability to build is very confusing. His
system
relies heavily on charts and tables explaining the interrelationships
of
his form classifications; for some unknown reason these charts are
handwritten,
making them hard to comprehend.
All this is a pity, because
even if Glassie's method is hard to follow, his basic premise is
brilliant,
and his conclusions are quite challenging. It is hard to see how
he got to point B from point A, but the gist of point B is this: In
Louisa
County, as in other areas all over the world, a more impersonal society
led to more impersonal architecture, and a high value put on
individuality
leads paradoxically to more, rather than less, architectural
conformity.
This is because, as he puts it, "No builder works in a vacuum."
There
were many variations on the central passage plan with living space to
either
side (which he classifies as the XY3X form), but as the seventeenth
century
turned into the eighteenth and the unknowns in the settlers' lives
became
larger, visitors to a settler's house did not enter into a living space
directly through the front door, but into a "hall." This was all
the more unusual because the hall, unlike the aforementioned front
doors
and living spaces, was not something a house really needed to have, and
thus is not sufficiently explained by practical considerations (which
do
explain, for instance, why the houses were built out of a particular
material).
I understood this position much better when I heard Glassie explain it
in person than in this book, in which I found the correlation of his
data
and his conclusion often hard to follow.