As a child, Paul Goldberger, "the leading figure in architecture criticism," according to the Huffington Post and currently a contributing editor at Vanity Fair, loved building cities out of wooden blocks, drawing pictures of buildings and writing from an early age. In our recent conversation, he cited two defining reasons for his going to Yale and focusing on writing about architecture. Both were gifts of his parents' friends when he was a teenager—a subscription to Progressive Architecture magazine and a book that he still has and treasures, a monograph of Eero Saarinen’s work.

Goldberger began his career at The New York Times, where in 1984, his architectural criticism was awarded the Pulitzer Prize, the highest award in Journalism. He was the architecture critic for The New Yorker from 1997 to 2011. From 2004 to 2006, he served as dean of the Parsons School of Design at New York’s New School, where the critic still teaches across domains of housing, transportation, landscape, the street, and other public spaces, discussing how architecture should address social issues.

Vladimir Belogolovsky (VB): You have said about architecture, “No other art has the arrogance to think it will remake the world.” If not remaking the world, how do you gauge the importance of architecture?

Paul Goldberger (PG): Architecture is essential. It is the only art that we have no choice but to engage with. We can choose not to engage with paintings, music, dance, film, or literature. But we all must have architecture in our lives whether we want to or not. But architecture’s necessity in our lives does not mean that it shapes everything. It always has the dilemma and the challenge of balancing between being an art and fulfilling a practical need and that makes it different from other arts. We need shelter. Architecture gives us that. Fashion is perhaps closer to architecture than other arts because clothing, too, is a necessity and also a vehicle for artistic expression and the two are always in tension, as they are in architecture, where there is not only tension between the practical and the artistic but also even, sometimes, the spiritual. What can buildings do apart from simply protecting us from the rain? How can architecture impact our emotions, feelings and the ways we live?

VB: What role does architecture play in making a city livable and what should the role of an architecture critic be now?

PG: Architecture is not, by itself, going to bring justice, no matter how beautiful the courtroom is. We also need to remember that an architect can only build what a client is willing to pay for. That said, architects must do more than simply wait for clients. They can bring ideas into the public realm and make proposals that will stimulate public discourse. They can use their expertise and knowledge to bring us closer to our ideals. So, architects should try to go beyond the role of simply executing the wishes of their clients. The critic has an active role to play in civic discourse. Architecture criticism should not be just a guide to consumption. It should be more than what film critics or food critics do who guide consumers. An architecture critic should be really a guide to the world around us. We may not have the power to solve issues, but we can direct dialogues beyond the pictorial to find meaningful solutions to social problems. Architecture always exists in a social context as well as an aesthetic one.

VB: Speaking of some leading architects, what do you think about this year’s Pritzker Architecture Prize winner, Riken Yamamoto? The jury seems to be somewhat perplexed now, not quite knowing how to relate to the individual architects whose role has been on the decline for at least a decade. 

PG: I like their choice. I am impressed by his work and what he is trying to do. I do think that, at a certain period, we exaggerated the role of the individual in architecture. The culture of celebrity, which is a much broader social phenomenon, and the culture of architecture briefly seemed to merge. I am pleased we have gotten beyond that because a lot of it was silly and occasionally even cult-like. But I see it as a pendulum swinging back and forth. Now, we are at another extreme when we seem to be very suspicious and often too dismissive, of the value of individual creativity. I don’t think that is appropriate either. Yes, a great building is made by many people. It can’t be like a painting, which is the work of a single person. At the same time, there is usually a generative idea and the generative idea comes from one person, even if it is refined and improved by other people. So, if we were exaggerating the importance of individual genius at one time, we are now making the opposite mistake and undervaluing it somewhat. The reality is that neither extreme is correct. Howard Roark's model was never that real. On the other hand, great buildings are not solely a collective act either.

VB: I noticed lately that it has become a policy of some institutions not to do monographic shows. What are your thoughts on that?

PG: In this age of identity politics, it has become so difficult. If a person is Asian, then people may ask, “Well, why is an African architect not being shown?” And then, if there is a show of a man’s work, someone will suggest showing a woman’s work. You can never satisfy such objections and the easiest way is simply to avoid living people entirely. It is unfortunate to give in to identity politics. It is awfully silly and destructive.

VB: You worked closely with Frank Gehry when you wrote his biography. In your review of his Bilbao project, you wrote, “Gehry’s genius, in part, has been to create buildings that seem to be arbitrary and irrational but, in fact, are deeply responsive to their surroundings and the needs of their users.” In the same piece, you said, “The Guggenheim Bilbao ends the century by summarising the era’s achievements.” What do you think about his contribution to the profession and what do you think of architecture as an act of self-expression?

PG: I think his genius lies in his ability to combine a high degree of self-expression with the obligation of architecture to solve a problem at the same time. These two things coexist in his buildings well. Just the other day, I was in Paris and went to his Fondation Louis Vuitton. It is fascinating that once you get into the main galleries, this extraordinarily powerful architecture recedes and you realise that most of the exhibit spaces are fairly conventional. You don’t feel architecture pounding into your consciousness every moment. Its presence varies in intensity.

I think self-expression alone is not architecture. It can be art but not architecture. However, self-expression combined with solving a problem is architecture. There is nothing wrong with it when it is done right. Nevertheless, it must be said that everyone can’t be doing that. We can’t make cities full of expressive buildings. Here in New York, we are very fortunate to have Wright’s Guggenheim on Fifth Avenue. But if every building along Fifth Avenue were to attempt to create a coherent city, Every city needs a good mixture of foreground and background buildings.   

VB: What do you think about Gehry’s original Santa Monica House?

PG: For sure, it is a very powerful act of self-expression. It is also an act of deep and radical engagement with a conventional Dutch colonial house. The brilliance of this house is in how much he changed it, added to it his own elements and yet never made the house go away. You can still read the original house and you can read the dialogue between him and the original unknown architect who created this conventional suburban bungalow. It is in this dialogue that I find an extraordinary amount of creative energy emerging. However, it is not a model for something else.

VB: You have said, “Creativity in architecture is about how well you can manipulate the fundamentals of space, form, light, materials and proportions.” Could you elaborate?

PG: That was said in the context of ideology versus style. The thing I have the least patience for is stylistic ideology. I believe in the ideals of the Modern Movement, but I don’t accept the connection between ideology and architecture. I don’t believe architecture in itself can change society. I feel even more impatient with those who ascribe values to Classicism. I am fond of good traditional architecture; I just don’t believe it is the only acceptable road. For several years, I was on the jury for the Driehaus Prize, although I sometimes felt that I was there as a secret modernist because I loved the traditional work but did not buy the ideology behind it. [Laughs]

VB: I like your statement, “You cannot function as a critic if you do not support and believe in the new.” Can you elaborate on that?

PG: I will accept any architecture that is done well. Yet, whatever the architecture, I would not like the whole world to be made up of that. I like different kinds of architecture. In the end, making a building modern or making a building classical, or what have you, is not what will determine whether it is a good work of architecture. It will be the composition, scale, proportions, materials, lighting, how well it fulfils its programme and how well it relates to its context. Those are the attributes that matter the most and distinguish a good building from a not-so-good building.

VB: What are some of the most pressing questions for architects to ask now?

PG: Why are we building this building? Do we need to build this building at all? Who will benefit from it? How much will this building cost in dollars and energy consumption? Will this building make the area around it better, or will it only make somebody richer? These are not new questions, but they are more urgent today than they ever were.