The Brochure Series of Architectural Illustration, Vol. 01, No. 02, February 1895.: Byzantine-Romanesque Doorways in Southern Italy

In Short

This volume is an early architectural periodical dedicated to the careful documentation of historical European design. By focusing on the unique, blended architecture of the Apulia region in Southern Italy, it provides a curated portfolio of doorways that exhibit a sophisticated synthesis of Byzantine and Romanesque influences. Rather than promoting direct imitation, the publication encourages contemporary draughtsmen to analyze the scale, ornament, and light-sensitive design of these structures to inform their own creative practice, ultimately serving as a bridge between historical craftsmanship and the evolving standards of the modern architectural profession.

The Story

The narrative of this collection begins with a geographic and historical inquiry into the province of Apulia, the "heel" of the Italian boot. Here, the architecture presents a puzzle to the observer: it does not adhere to a single, rigid classification but instead displays a vibrant, often indistinguishable fusion of Roman traditions and the influence of the Levant, filtered through the commerce of coastal powers like Venice and Pisa. The progression of the argument centers on the observation that while these Southern Italian churches are often smaller in scale than their Northern counterparts, they possess a distinct, refined beauty derived from their intricate ornamentation.

The text guides the reader through a series of specific ecclesiastical sites, such as the cathedrals of Trani, Bari, and Altamura. These structures are identified as part of a lineage that follows a specific internal arrangement: a rectangular plan, divided by clustered piers, often featuring a crypt or under-church. However, the true focus of the work lies in the external façade, particularly the principal doorways. These are described as masterworks of "spotting" and ornament distribution, where a rich hood is supported by pillars resting on monsters—a recurring motif of the era. The argument here is that the creators of these doorways were not necessarily masters of grand structural conception, but were instead exceptional "ornamentists" who found deep satisfaction in the subtle manipulation of light, shade, and decorative detail.

As the text moves toward its conclusion, it shifts from historical analysis to professional advice for the contemporary architect. It cautions against the mindless "cribbing" of historical patterns, arguing instead that true architectural value is found in understanding the construction and intent behind the old forms. The publication incorporates professional lectures, such as those by Professor Aitchison, which emphasize that originality in design should not be forced through oddity, but should emerge from a mastery of proportion and purpose. The work concludes by advocating for a rigorous, methodical approach to professional travel and study, encouraging architects to move beyond pretty sketches toward accurate, measured documentation. By linking the study of the past to the practical, daily labors of the draughtsman—from the proper use of a sliding measuring-rod to the selection of sketching paper—the volume frames the history of Apulian architecture as a living, breathing resource for the modern designer. It serves as a reminder that before one can innovate, one must first possess the humility and discipline to study the "grace and elegance" already etched into the stone of the past.

How It Unfolds

The cultural crossroads The study opens by situating Apulia at the intersection of Roman and Byzantine trade routes, creating a style that defies simple categorization. It establishes that this remote location allowed for a unique, localized evolution of architectural features.

The anatomy of the church The text transitions into a comparative analysis of church plans, noting the longitudinal aisles and transverse compartments found in sites like San Miniato. It highlights the discrepancy in scale between the smaller southern churches and the grander northern monuments, framing this as a shift in focus toward decorative detail.

The primacy of the facade Attention turns exclusively to the exterior, detailing the standard composition of the principal doorway. The narrative celebrates the distribution of ornament and the effective use of shadows as the essential elements that elevate these facades beyond mere construction.

The call for professional rigor The final movement discards the passive appreciation of history in favor of active, disciplined study. It offers technical advice on how to measure, draw, and interpret buildings, insisting that this process is the only path toward creating architecture that possesses "dignity" and avoids the "dog-kennel" style of design.

The People

The text is driven by the perspectives of figures who shape the reader's understanding of architectural value. Fergusson, the primary authority cited throughout, provides the critical lens; he is the one who dares to categorize these medieval builders as "indifferent architects" yet "excellent ornamentists," a tension that defines the book’s central argument. He forces the reader to reconcile the beauty of the detail with the limitations of the overall design.

Professor Aitchison serves as the voice of moral and aesthetic instruction. He demands that the student avoid the twin traps of "impudent" originality and "servile" copying. He pushes the reader to view architecture as a craft that must be grounded in the practical realities of construction—urging them to avoid "potted art" in favor of forms that honestly express the materials used.

J.W. Case, the returned Rotch scholar, acts as the practical mentor. He is the one who provides the "how-to" manual for the aspiring architect, demystifying the process of travel. By outlining the specific tools needed—from metallic-strip tapes to the chambre éclaire—he turns the reader from a passive admirer of plates into a field researcher. Each of these figures stands in the way of the amateur's tendency toward superficiality; they demand that the student engage with the building not as a picture, but as a complex, measurable, and historical reality.

In Its Own Voice

Regarding the deliberate, refined nature of the medieval stonework:

"The examples of doorways chosen for illustrating this number unquestionably show the work of men who labored for the enjoyment and satisfaction to be got from their work."

Regarding the advice to avoid seeking originality through mere shock or eccentricity:

"Any one can be original if he be only impudent enough; any one can be graceful if he is servile enough to copy: but to be both original and graceful requires deep study, much striving, and natural talent."

Regarding the necessity of avoiding the use of outdated forms for modern construction:

"I have also to remind you that architecture cannot be brought into vigorous life again, so long as architects insist on using old forms for beauty that are inseparable from a construction that has been abandoned."

What It's Really About

At its core, this work is an investigation into the nature of architectural "truth." It asks whether beauty can exist independently of perfect structural planning and concludes that it can, provided the ornament is handled with a "refined sense of scale and proportion." The text grapples with the tension between the historical prestige of Gothic and Romanesque forms and the industrial reality of the late nineteenth century. It argues that architecture must not be a form of plagiarism, but a deliberate act of synthesis. The fundamental question is how a designer can learn from the past without becoming a slave to it, ultimately favoring a philosophy of study that requires deep, empirical engagement with the physical reality of buildings over the superficial emulation of their outward appearance.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the intersection of art history and professional craft will find this volume a rewarding, grounded experience. It is not a glossy coffee-table book; it is a serious, focused document that captures the earnest, pedagogical spirit of the architectural profession at the close of the nineteenth century. You will feel as though you are looking over the shoulder of a Victorian-era draughtsman, learning not just what to see, but how to measure and interpret what you see.

The text is unapologetically elitist in its demand for rigorous training and study, and modern readers may find the references to specific, now-obscure historical figures and academic lectures to be challenging. However, the warmth comes through in the genuine passion for the subject—the love of a well-placed molding or the satisfaction of a perfect measurement. It remains a quiet, thoughtful reminder that the "distilled" essence of a building is found in the labor put into its smallest details. If you enjoy the intersection of historical observation and practical, no-nonsense advice, this volume offers a unique, unfiltered look at the foundations of the architect’s education, leaving you with a heightened awareness of the shadows, proportions, and intent behind the structures you pass every day.