Polanyi, The Tacit
Dimension
A problem that does not worry us is no problem. No problem!
Isn’t that the point? To have no
problems? Hey man, no problem. No worries.
I don’t have a problem with that.
You got a problem with it?
Like “criticism,” the word “problem” has a very different
meaning in creative or scientific inquiry than it does in casual
conversation. It’s the nature of scientific problems that epistemologist Polanyi is talking about in the quote
above, but it applies equally well to design, particularly in design research,
that mysterious territory of abduction, selective historiography, and innovation.
I shared this quote with my Comparative Urbanism class to
shore up my own theories of problem-setting and solving because the syllabus emphasizes “independent research” on a topic
of the student’s own choosing. The word “research”
looms opaque and intimidating over design students. Am I supposed to be a scholar? Am I supposed to be proving something? Disproving something? How is it all supposed to help me design,
when I close the LOC or Avery website and start sketching? How do I choose a topic? A thesis
question? (If you really want to torment
a graduate student, be sure to ask, every chance you get, no matter the subject of the conversation, “but what’s your
thesis question?”)
It begins with The Hunch, my shorthand for what Polanyi more
eloquently explains in his little but dense book The Tacit Dimension. The
Hunch comes from perception, experience, and exposure. It is personal, but if we are dedicated to
contributing to our chosen fields, it can’t stay that way. So, as we reflect on where The Hunch came
from, we have to figure out a way to interrogate it. Historical research? Primary sources? First
hand observation? Interviews? Design research is catholic, small c intended; it
opens its eclectic arms to embrace bits of the scientific method, investigative
journalism, historiography, and detective work, not to mention leaps of creativity.
It’s easy to be transgressive in design research, to spill over accepted boundaries and make inappropriate noises. Oddly, that’s its strength
because its goals, its ends, are quite different from these other forms of research. What’s important, though, is for the designer
to determine exactly what standard of scholarship is necessary for action. And then be completely faithful.
I have a hunch. I’ve had it for a while but haven’t yet
done the research necessary to own it. It
is personal, constructed on my time spent in Williamsburg and Washington, but
its significance isn’t limited to me. It
is a good problem, and it obsesses me with a constant background buzz, begging
for attention. It’s this: That the late 17th century plans
for the two royal capitals of the Virginia and Maryland colonies, Williamsburg
and Annapolis-- both designed in the 1690s by Sir Francis Nicholson—influenced L’Enfant’s
plan for Washington a hundred years later. There’s a lot of correlative
evidence for this with various asides and casual mentions by John Reps, Larry
Vale, and others of similarities among these cities, but I’ve yet to see
anything that documents an actual influence. And, I have my own slightly conspiratorial theories about that. What
would I need, aside from simply elevating this hunch to the top of my research
to do list, to write the definitive urban proof? Some correspondence between the father of our
country and his architect, maybe something like this…
Dear Peter,
I’m glad to hear you’ll be tackling the Capital City
project! Your letter was quite
persuasive. You’re so right that no nation
has ever had such an opportunity…no pressure, though.
BTW, Tom will come around, I’m sure, but you know how he is. He’s a smart guy—won’t
let anyone forget that he went to William and Mary—but on this project he’s
just not thinking big enough.
The whole French connection will be a big selling point,
even though things are looking a little rocky over there right now. Still I see
your point that just a nice plan of rond-points
and diagonal avenues overlaid on a Cartesian grid isn’t enough to make
decisions about where to locate important buildings. So by all means, make use of that Nicholson
fellow’s work in Maryland and Virginia, but let’s keep that to ourselves. Mentioning an English precedent? Too soon, Peter. Too soon.
Cheers,
GW
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