Jeff Siegler

Why are houses in Amsterdam so narrow? Well, it wasn't about creating a charming Dutch aesthetic — this was a direct response to taxes based on the width of a building's canal frontage. Beautiful architecture isn't always about "styles". Sometimes it just happens by accident... In the 16th century Amsterdam was becoming a commercial hub. As trade increased and the population grew, there was naturally greater competition for space, especially around the canals — because trade was all by boat. In response the authorities imposed a building tax on the width of a property's canal frontage. Then, as now, people wanted to save money. So they simply built narrow houses to ensure that they paid as little tax as possible. What we see in the 21st century are charming rows of idiosyncratic Dutch houses arrayed along the pretty canals of Amsterdam. Back then it was merely the obvious and practical response to tax law. When talking about architecture it's easy to focus on styles (Gothic or Classical, Bauhaus or Art Nouveau) or on specific superstar architects. But, it turns out, things as ostensibly boring as taxes are often far more important and powerful in shaping regional aesthetics and architectural identity. Think of a typical Art Deco skyscraper. What comes to mind? Probably something like the Empire State Building, the iconic shape of which is largely defined by its setbacks: a waterfall of masonry and glass. But those setbacks were mandated by the 1916 New York Zoning Resolution, which was enacted as a response to the Equitable Building. This was a structure more than 150 metres tall rising sheer from the sidewalk below, thus blocking light and air from reaching street level. So, a seemingly definitive aesthetic quality of Art Deco skyscrapers, and of Art Deco design more broadly, was the direct consequence of building code regarding public health — not the artistic choice of an architect. Then again, take Paris. Here we have a perfect example of practical building codes united with purely aesthetic concerns. When the Medieval city was torn down and rebuilt in the second half of the 19th century, Baron Haussmann — the man appointed to oversee this transformation — enforced quasi-dictatorial rules about the façades, specifying particular designs and even requiring that they all be constructed from a specific type of limestone. Sometimes regulations can be exclusively aesthetic. But a different Parisian regulation, from 1783, was height restriction: buildings could be no more than 20 metres tall. This gave birth to another unintended aesthetic triumph, because it was exemptions to this rule that led to the widespread adoption of mansard roofs and, after that, their resulting spread around the world. All of these examples are proof that architecture isn't always about "style". Indeed, sometimes the best architecture isn't a direct consequence of any actual intention to "create beautiful buildings" so much as a result of clever solutions to difficult problems. And it isn't always, or even usually, taxes or building codes that present these problems. In the past it was the availability of building materials or the need to adapt to local climate and environmental conditions. In other words, a question of what was possible. The steep roofs of Medieval German houses, the mudbrick towers of Hadhramaut in Yemen, the turf huts of Iceland, or the presence of courtyards in traditional architecture all around the Mediterranean. These are all examples of architecture responding to restrictions and problems and necessities rather than simple aesthetic choices. And even the architectural wonders of the world weren't purely aesthetic in nature. The great Gothic cathedrals of Medieval Europe, the sublime stepwells of India, and the tiered pyramids of the Aztecs — all would have looked different if their builders had access to, say, stainless steel and plate glass and elevators. The point here isn't that architects have not shaped styles or aesthetics, because they clearly have, and nor that they should be denied praise for their successes or absolved of blame for their failures. For example, even after the New York Zoning Resolution of 1916 it was down to inspired architects like Raymond Hood to design buildings according to those rules. He found a solution which was legal — and also beautiful. Still, it's worth remembering that the most boring or unlikely of things, like taxes or the scarcity of resources, can sometimes unintentionally lead to beautiful architecture. "The absence of limitations is the enemy of art," said Orson Welles. Very true, though he perhaps didn't have Dutch tax regulations in mind at the time...