Tuesday, February 13, 2018

Colgate EALL (2)

Design work on the remodel of the Colgate East Asian Language Laboratory is getting closer to the finish line. I thought I'd share some sketches I've come up with for the space, though keep in mind this is not completely finalized as of yet.

The space consists of a pair of small rooms linked by a hallway, and along the hallway are faculty offices. The first space I worked on was the Japanese room, occupying a relatively small niche of space. From the hallway, the entry to the space is indicated by a small hanging panel, reminiscent of a ranma:

I've applied some 'plant on' posts, and nageshi, with a form of wainscot on the wall which looks similar to a exterior wall treatment seen on many Japanese structures.

Upon crossing under the ranma, a turn to the left gives a view of the alcove, with tokonoma (right) and toko-waki (left):

The benches are unusual for a Japanese traditional space of course, but in this situation the people coming into the space and sitting will be wearing, as per usual in the west, their street shoes and won't be parking themselves on tatami on the floor. So, some compromise was needed to make the alcove work with a sitting viewer, in a rather cramped space. The department head, who is Japanese, was pleased with the arrangement.

There are three simple benches and a small table with splayed legs. The benches can be pulled out of the way to reveal sliding doors under the alcove, where items for display in the alcove and on the chigai-dana (staggered shelves) will be stored.

Heading the other way down the hall, bring the viewer to the 'Chinese' room, which, like the Japanese space, is an area defined by a hanging piece of joined woodwork:

In the room proper is an insert window frame with a lattice echoing that of the one at the room's entry:

It is likely that some changes may yet be made to this lattice so that it conforms better with the existing sash window mullions to the rear. Possibly the entry hanging lattice might receive a backing solid wood panel as well. As it is, we've been through several design iterations with the lattice arrangement, of which, of course, there are innumerable possible variations.

Turning the corner of the Chinese room and one sees a small table with a set of Chinese-style chairs, along with a bumped-out section with a framework with re-entrant corners, which will serve as a window to a series of interchangeable images behind:

The design phase is drawing near to a conclusion, it would appear, so I am probably about 6~8 weeks out from getting started on fabrication, which will need to be scheduled in with the other cabinet build with which I am currently occupied.

That's it for this juncture, thanks for visiting!

Thursday, February 8, 2018

Parsing the Parthenon (II)

In the first post in the short series, I outlined some of the Parthenon's history, finishing up with Morosini trying to loot the structure and remove the parts back to Venice. It is good he was only successful to a limited degree in that regard, though Scottish nobleman Thomas Bruce, aka the Earl of Elgin, did a vast amount more thievery under a dubious note of permission from the Sultan, the results of which can be found in the British Museum today. It's nice that those examples are preserved and available to view, however they are the cultural property of Greece.

The topics of vandalism and theft of Parthenon relics, not to mention from a great many other Greek historical sites is a subject which could fill many volumes. What I want to delve into with this second post though is the building itself and how it came to be understood in the West in the 1700-1900 period.


The Grand Tour.

Starting in about 1660, wealthy young Englishmen began taking a post-'Oxbridge' (Oxford and Cambridge Universities) trekked through (mostly) France and Italy in search of art, culture and the roots of Western civilization. With nearly unlimited funds, aristocratic connections and months (or years) to roam, they commissioned paintings, perfected their language skills and mingled with the upper crust of the Continent. The Grand Tour offered a liberal education, and the opportunity to acquire things otherwise unavailable at home, lending an air of accomplishment and prestige to the traveller. Grand Tourists would return with crates full of books, works of art, scientific instruments, and cultural artifacts – from snuff boxes and paperweights, to altars, fountains, and statuary – to be displayed in libraries, cabinets, gardens, drawing rooms, and galleries built for that purpose. "Look at me!. I'm wealthy and cultured!"

The Grand tour went as far west as Italy, and did not venture into Greece as it was under control of the Ottoman Empire, and a country that, since the destruction of the Parthenon in 1687 and the expulsion of the Venetians, largely had been closed to Europeans.  However, with an easing of diplomatic relations in the mid-eighteenth century, it became possible for an intrepid traveler to visit Greece. 

In 1751, the English architects James Stuart and Nicholas Revett announced a proposal they had conceived of several years earlier in Rome. Their intention was to systematically survey the architectural monuments of Athens in three folio volumes, with engraved plates and a descriptive text. The venture received funding from a club called the Society of the Dilletanti

For the next two years Stuart made notes and picturesque gouache paintings of the actual state of the principal monuments, and Revett did the measured drawings. After working for about two years, the political situation arising from the Ottoman occupation that had commenced in 1458 became too hot, compelling their departure in March 1753.

Upon return, Stuart set to work to write a multi-volume work on his discoveries, however he turned out to not be the most focussed individual, which frustrated many of the readers who had pre-paid a subscription to the promised volumes. He married his maid and dabbled in architectural commissions.

Finally, in 1762 out came The Antiquities of Athens: Measured and Delineated by James Stuart and Nicholas Revett, Painters and ArchitectsPublished in 4 volumes and a Supplement, the second of which, coming out years after the first, described the Parthenon:

In Volume II one finds a view of the front of the Parthenon:

They took meticulous measurements of the structures and in particular showed many detailed views of the remaining carved figures decorating the structure, however they completely missed on some crucial details, like column entasis.

Europeans were familiar with column entasis from Roman examples which were themselves patterned after Greek architecture. In the case of the Parthenon the entasis was so slight on the columns that it was missed altogether by Stuart and Revett. The entasis of columns in Greek examples was not observed until 1810, by Cockerell.

It should be further noted that, up to this point in time, Roman culture and art was considered the ultimate achievement of Antiquity. Discovery of Greek classic architecture, however, was about to rock that boat.

Interestingly, a Frenchman named Julien-David Le Roy got wind of Stuart and Revett's plan to be the first to examine ancient Greek architecture, so he determined for some reason to beat them to the punch. He was living in Rome at the time, and did not reach Athens until 1755, some time after Stuart and Revett had sailed back to England. He remained a few months, and with the help of some Capucine monks was able to survey many structures. Upon return to Paris in the same year, he set to work feverishly, wanting to get his work out ahead of Stuart and Revett.

The result was Les Ruines des Plus Beaux Monuments de la Grèce by Julien-David Le Roy, published in 1758:

Unlike Stuart and Revett, Le Roy was not interested in simply making precise measurements of structures, but was more interested in conveying the spirit of the architecture as he saw it;

Part of the south side of the Parthenon is illustrated:

On the metopes are scenes from the Battle of the Lapiths and Centaurs, also known as the Centauromachy, in which the mythological Athenian king Theseus took part. Interestingly, the author added to this side a pediment as well. He was not a stickler for accuracy it seems.

Le Roy's 'The Parthenon: 1. Plan of the temple. 2. West side of the temple':

On the pediment is depicted the battle of Athena with Poseidon. On the metopes the Centauromachy. 

In fact, the Centauromachy is on the south side of the temple and not in the west, as the author shows.

Publication of Le Roy's work caused quite a stir. The next year, exasperated at the delay with Stuart, Revett quit the undertaking altogether. Stuart, too, must have been annoyed that he had allowed himself to be pre-empted by his rival, a Frenchman who had not even arrived in Athens until after he had departed nearly a year before. (Even more maddening, an unauthorized version appeared in English the next year.) Critical of Le Roy's inaccurate drawings and perfunctory observations, Stuart set about completely revising his text to refute them. Four years later, in December 1762, the first volume of The Antiquities of Athens finally appeared.

In the preface, Stuart declared that he, at least, was determined "to avoid Haste, and System, those most dangerous enemies to accuracy and fidelity, for we had frequently, with great regret, observed their bad effects in many, otherwise excellent, Works of this kind." Railing against Le Roy, every misunderstanding and inaccuracy were itemized. There were insinuations of plagiarism and charges that descriptions had been taken from others and not made directly, as well as failures to recognize monuments for what they were (e.g., the gateway to the Roman Agora and Hadrian's Library).

You see, pissing matches go way back.

Both Stuart's work and Le Roy's were hugely influential and Stuart's work in particular had both a profound influence on the Greek Revival and ushered in an age of precision measurement of ancient architecture. In the nineteenth century especially, Stuart's work served architects and designers as a principal source book for the Greek orders and decorative motifs.

Bringing this matter home to a US audience, I can make mention of the first person to write pattern books on architecture in the United States, namely Asher Benjamin, whose works brought architectural history, style and geometry to ordinary builders in the field. One of his most influential works is The Practical House Carpenter, published in 1843.

To quote from the Wikipedia page on Benjamin,
"The archeological sources of his designs were scrupulously cited, from the Temple of Hephaestus in Athens to the Arch of Titus in Rome. Other architects, including Ithiel Town and Ammi B. Young, freely assimilated his plans, as did innumerable carpenters. Indeed, the charm of many early New England towns owes a debt to Asher Benjamin. "
The Temple of Hephaestus in Athens was detailed in Stuart's 3rd volume. Here's a view of the front of that building in that text:

This is another widely admired and copied building - including, somewhat near to where I live, the Vermont State House in Montpelier.  Hephaestus, by the way, was the patron god of blacksmiths, metalworking, carpenters, craftsmen, artisans, sculptors, metallurgy, fire, and volcanoes, so if you are looking for an alternate direction in which to worship, look no further. :^)

Here is plate 4 from Benjamin's The Practical House Carpenter, showing the Doric order on the same structure, likely an image taken directly from Stuart's text:

It seems that The Practical House Carpenter represented a change in sentiment for Benjamin in terms of his desire to bring Grecian architecture to an American audience. From the Preface:

Thomas Jefferson owned a copy of the first volume of The Antiquities of Athens. In 1803, he appointed Benjamin Henry Latrobe as surveyor of public building in the United States, and Latrobe designed a number of important public buildings in Washington, D.C. and Philadelphia, including work on the United States Capitol and the Bank of Pennsylvania.

Besides the US, the Greek Revival was of course hugely influential in England, Scotland, France and Germany - even Russia.


The reader may recall from the first post that Morosini's effort to capture Athens, resulting in the destruction of the Parthenon, was a Phyrric victory, in that a year later the Ottoman turks recaptured the city.  They retained control of Greece and surrounding territories to the east and south, consolidating what became termed the Ottoman Empire. While the Ottoman Empire lasted until 1922, Greece was not a happy participant within it. The Greek War of Independence began in 1821, and ran until independence was gained in 1832. The great powers of the day, Russia, Britain and France, naturally intervened in this war and helped the Greeks gain victory and expel the Ottoman Turks. Greece was finally recognized as an independent nation in the Treaty of Constantinople of May 1832. By agreement between the controlling powers, a new king ascended the throne, and he was...  a German, Otto, second son of Bavarian King Ludwig I. A loan of 60 million francs was also provided, with 'conditions', along with 3500 troops to protect him. He was still a minor when he ascended the throne. This arrangement was termed the 'Hegemonic Constitution'. Otto spent one decade as absolute monarch introducing an expanded legislation in an effort to westernize the country without taking into account the local traditions of the country. Although King Otto tried to function as an absolute monarch, as Thomas Gallant writes, he "was neither ruthless enough to be feared, nor compassionate enough to be loved, nor competent enough to be respected."  Otto strived to placate the controlling powers by playing them off against one another, in an effort to keep the foreign loans rolling in, and this strategy, in the end, pleased no one.

The discontent against the authoritarian pattern of his policy festered and eventually his subjects' demands for a Constitution proved overwhelming, and in the face of an armed but bloodless insurrection Otto in 1843 granted a constitution. However he rigged the election using fraud and terror. Ah, the old playbook, eh? In 1862 he was deposed while out of the country, and died in Bavaria, still apparently usually seen wearing Greek traditional regalia, in 1867.

That brief rule by the Bavarian Otto was to have significant bearing upon academic investigations of ancient Greek antiquities. The Bavarian King appointed other Germans to important posts within the government, and his first task as king was to make a detailed archaeological and topographic survey of Athens. After a time a Hungarian, Joseph Hoffer, became the official architect of the recently founded Greek kingdom and directed and superintended, in 1836, the clearing away of  rubbish from the platform of the Parthenon. At last one could truly see the structure. And the view was unexpected, as it revealed something really surprising: curvature.

Now we reach the meat of the topic, and the very reason I became so interested in the Parthenon of late and wanted to write about it.

The phenomenon of curvature at the Parthenon was first described in Hoffer's essay "Das Parthenon zu Athen, in seinen Hauptteilen neu gemessen" published in 1838. Hoffer's work was apparently largely ignored in his native Hungary, despite his incredible discoveries.

The Greek refinements, as they were termed, were then more thoroughly investigated, in 1845-47, by Francis Cranmer Penrose, culminating in the publication, in 1851, of "An Investigation of the Principles of Athenian Architecture,"

Later, William Henry Goodyear brought the work of Hoffer and Penrose to a wider audience, along with critical commentary upon their theories, with his book Greek Refinements: Studies in Temperamental Architecture (1912).

Goodyear summarized the findings of Penrose and Hoffer, and noted that the publication of their works had lead to somewhat of a backlash among the followers of Neoclassical architecture:

"The great astonishment of modern architects and of modern antiquarians when the purposed irregularities of Greek temple architecture were brought to light is illustrated by the long- continued incredulity with which the publications and measurements of Hoffer, and even those of Penrose, were received, and is attributable to several causes. 
      First the Athenian temples had been subjected to careful examination and supposedly accurate surveys since the middle of the eighteenth century by Stuart and Revett, and then by the architects who continued their work, but the horizontal curves were not observed until more than three quarters of a century later, and even the leaning columns were not observed until 1829, when they were announced by Donaldson.
     Second, the apparently symmetrical form of the Greek temple type favored the belief that absolute symmetry of details was a natural and necessary counterpart of the general symmetry of plan and form. 
    Third, the methods and practice of modern architectural design had always assumed geometrical regularity and mathematical accuracy to be the necessary and natural conditions of all “correct” architecture.

For these reasons the discovery of purposed deflections from straight lines, and of other purposed departures from strictly symmetrical arrangements, in the Greek temples was a great surprise to modern antiquarians and to modern architects. The distinguished German antiquarian Böticher (1806-89) attempted to discredit the curvatures as an intentional refinement by the theory that they were due to settlement at the angles. His theory was decisively overthrown by an examination of the Parthenon foundations which was made by Ziller. The foundation curve of the front of the temple at Corinth was also subsequently shown by Dörpfeld to have been cut in the solid rock.
Another conclusive proof is found in the joints of the platform steps, which are perpendicular whereas the blocks themselves are sloping. If settlement or pressure had caused the curve, the joints would lean outward."
The reaction of 'experts' to new and challenging information leads me to wonder what the response must have been like, say, when Kepler discovered that the planets in our solar system did not orbit around the sun in perfect circular orbits, rather in elliptical orbits - - were other astronomers pissed at Kepler? Perhaps, not, because unlike certain architects and art historians, perhaps, the scientist is more likely to resonate with something Aristotle said a long time back:

"In all this they are not seeking for theories and causes to account for observed facts, but rather forcing their observations and trying to accommodate them to certain theories and opinions of their own."
(Aristotle, On the Heavens II.13.293a)
Goodyear made another excellent point in his book, page 20, where he considers the Greek Revival architecture, defunct by his time, in light of discoveries about the nature of Greek architecture, namely the curvature:

"...the modern copies of the Greek temples are inadequate and ineffective replicas of the originals, and the most renowned modern copies were made before the most important features of these temples were known to exist. Supposing that it had been possible to reproduce these refinements, the Greek Revival (so called), in which the original Greek monuments were directly copied, dated from the last half of the eighteenth century, before the refinements had been discovered, and this revival had mainly come to an end before their existence was widely known."

Goodyear's work was extensive and comprehensive, however, it was published in 1912 and some discoveries have been made since then, and much academic argument has ensued with each discovery. In the interest of keeping the post length reasonable, I'll add a 3rd post to this series in the near future, where we can look at Greek temple refinements in greater detail and see what modern scholarship has to say.

All for this time- thanks for visiting the Carpentry Way.

Saturday, February 3, 2018

Colgate EALL

Colgate University, located in upstate New York, with nearly 2900 students, ranks in the top 15 in the country. A while back the department head of the East Asian Language Laboratory contacted me with a project. The wanted to remodel their department, consisting of 5 faculty offices along a hallway, with a small room at one end and an even smaller niche at the other, to better reflect the ethos of the department. They wanted one room to be modeled so as to give a Chinese feel, and the smaller niche to have a Japanese motif, and for both areas to provide a place to people to sit and relax while waiting to meet with professors.

The provided me with some measured sketches of the various rooms, photos of the sorts of details they were looking for, and some of the building blueprints. Of course, building blueprints and 'what actually was built' can sometimes vary, and trusting the room dimensions taken and jotted down by someone who does not normally do such things can be unwise for a fabricator. Best to confirm the numbers for yourself before getting too far along. But given the irregular shape of the rooms involved, it was all too possible as well to go to site and make an error in taking dimensions somehow, either writing down the wrong number, or ascribing a dimension in one place to another, or just forgetting to measure something that later on proves to be important.

Now, Colgate is some 4 hours drive away from where I live, so the prospect of making several 8+hour trips back and forth to take dimensions was, well, seeming inefficient at best. I had recently however received some information from Trimble (the company which owns SketchUp) of a new 3D scanning product called Canvas IO. Here's the video:

Sure looks pretty whizz-bang, huh? It certainly seemed to offer advantages over physically going to site and manually taking measurements.

Looking over the Canvas IO website, they make the following claim for accuracy:

"Across the case studies we've run with professional out in the field — using Canvas on real-world projects — we see that most measurements are within 1-2% of what's verified manually by tape measure, laser range-finder, or existing blueprint. "

So, after looking it over and seeing the possibilities, and liking that direct export from the captured data into SketchUp was offered, I thought it would be a good way to go. Unfortunately I do not have an Ipad, but a few emails later I had managed to convince the Colgate IT department to purchase the device ($500) and to go and scan the room.

It took a few weeks, but eventually I received the first scan, which opened in SketchUp like this:

It looked good! The depiction looked faithful to the room layout I had seen in other drawings they had provided.

The ceiling of the room was saved as a group or component, so one click to disappear that part and the contents were revealed:

That also looked pretty good.

Now, at the preliminary phase of the design discussion with Colgate, I had been suggesting they might want to look at using Japanese and Chinese ceiling treatments as a way of defining the spaces, so I was curious to see what details, like the locations of sprinklers, HVAC outlets, special access hatches, and so forth, might be shown on the Canvas Scan as that would affect what sort of ceiling might be the best choice. Unfortunately, the ceiling component of the scan was completely featureless. This is a typical metal framed ceiling with acoustical tiles, so it is not completely featureless, and I know from other supplied drawings that there are HVAC ducts in several areas.

Thinking that the people at Colgate had omitted to scan the ceiling, I asked them to do another round of scanning, and a few days later I received another CAD file. It was no different however in respect to the ceiling - a blank sheet. I asked the IT person at Colgate if he could talk to the people at Canvas and ask them why this info was missing from the scan. I mean, either it scanned or did not, which would show in the raw data from the scan, and if it did show in the raw data, then why were they choosing to not detail that part in the converted file?

Canvas's site explains that:
"Your CAD file will be an architectural “shell” of the space captured. Doors, walls, ceilings, floors, countertops, cabinets, and other “built-in” features will all be included, but no movable objects like furniture and decor. "
Emphasis mine.

That statement turns out to be misleading, at least in terms of ceilings. And when Colgate's IT person tried contacting the company with questions about the scan, all they did was refer him to their FAQ page.

It's like a lot of tech companies these days. They love to sell you a product but if you require any help afterwards, they either outsource the tech support to India, etc., or they just provide a FAQ page. Forget actually providing customer service, someone with whom you can have a conversation. I guess that costs too much. Grr..

Anyway, eventually the idea to employ ceilings was dropped due to budget constraints, so that aspect became less concerning. In the past several days, having received a drawing deposit from the University, I've been busy sketching.

Everything has been rolling along fairly smoothly, however yesterday I noticed some curious things.

First here is the room at one end, which will be the Chinese-themed room. This is a view down the hallway to that room:

Notice the window with the heater below? Note their relative sizes to one another - the window being narrower.

This however is how the window and heater actually look:

Clearly the heater is in fact narrower than the window. Why is the electrical box next to the heater missing from the scan? Notice also that the top of the window opening is a couple of inches below the ceiling, and a roll-up blind is placed in the junction. The scan however shows the window going right up to the ceiling.

Worse yet, the scanned window dimensions do not match the directly-obtained dimensions I had from Colgate. The window actually measures 53.875" wide, but the scan has the window at 52.36". That's not a tiny difference and would be outside the range of error one might anticipate from a person taking measurements with a tape measure. Is it within the company's stated "1~2%" range of error? no, it isn't, the difference between the numbers is close to 5% off.

Then there is this curious anomaly on the scan, as we look from the window ledge back into the room itself, we can see that the window trim piece sticks up in the air:

At first I thought I must have accidentally grabbed it with the mouse and pulled it up, however re-checking the original file they sent, as well as the second scanned and converted file, revealed that both showed the window trim the same way. Not sure what is going on there. Notice also in the background how it shows the baseboard. It measures, in the sketch, as 0.5" thick and 4" tall, however the actual baseboard is not wood but glued-on vinyl, which is about half that thickness at best.

It gets worse. The sketches I had from Colgate indicated that the hallway was 59" wide, however the scan from Canvas showed a hallway that was 55.1186" wide. Such an accurate number, but very different than what was indicated on Colgate's materials. Again, I checked both scans to see if one of them showed something different, but no. Then I contacted the Architectural Trades Manager at Colgate and had him go and double check the measure for the width of the hallway, which again came back at 59". So the scan was giving a number which was nearly 7% out from actual. That's terrible!

I am now completely disillusioned with this product. It doesn't perform as advertised and cannot be relied upon. I feel bad that Colgate purchased the device upon my request, given the results. While I will be able to navigate the design phase okay, when it comes time to fabricate I will need to drive out there and take measurements and double check everything.

I'd like to think in time that there will be an effective and highly accurate room scanning technology available (well, Leica has a great looking product, but at $8300 it is pricy), but with Canvas IO, the marketing promise far exceeds the actual performance. If you are just doing interior-designy stuff, where accuracy is relatively unimportant and you're concerned with wall colors and how a particular piece of furniture might look in a space, etc., it would be fine I guess, but if the idea is to take the scan and design accurate components from it you would be heading for a world of hurt and pain.

All for this round. Thanks for visiting. Post 2 is next.

Saturday, January 27, 2018

Parsing the Parthenon (I)

Happy 2018! This marks the 1000th post for The Carpentry Way. I know some blogs do 1000 posts in just a year, but I am pleased to have been able to keep at least a semi-consistent stream of posts coming your way since 2009, and an added bonus is I have to date received no death threats as a result. You never know what might set people off these days. I intend to continue with this blog for as long as it is useful and as long as I have something to contribute.


Today I wanted to talk about a famous work of stone architecture, namely the Parthenon in Athens. I had planned mainly to focus on the intriguing aspects of it's design, however the history of the structure is equally of comment so this topic will span two posts, the first looking at the history. Before that though I had a few random comments in general about stone architecture.

While stone architecture may seem outside the realm of carpentry strictly speaking, stone architecture in many (but not all) cases is an outcome of building traditions which had previously developed wooden architecture to a high standard, and wanted to emulate their wooden building forms in stone for the advantage conferred by stone, namely vastly increased durability. Possibly the decision to build in stone at different junctures in time was also influenced by what materials may or may not have been available. After all, 50 years ago one could find homes with clear VG 2x12 floor joists, while nowadays that sort of material would be unexpected. It's curious now how our economic systems have made building architecture in stone an utter rarity. In the US, the place where things are built to last in stone would be one's neighborhood graveyard and that is about it. All that care and concern about marking in physical terms the people once they have passed out of this world, and yet we cannot, not any longer, justify anything remotely similar in terms of celebrating people and society while living. It is a curious thing.

While stone architecture can emulate wooden architecture through the use of columns and beams, and may imitate wooden architecture's features, such as gutters and the ends of 'beams', one cannot ignore the fact stone has quite different characteristics than timber, and thus it is generally inadvisable to perfectly duplicate in stone what was otherwise done in wood. Stone has little tensile strength, for example, so cantilevered and trussed elements are not practical -instead you need to reduce spans, increase the number  of columns, and enlarge beam sizes. Deep eave overhangs are not possible for similar reasons, so a stone building will have vestigial eaves at best.

A point worth mentioning is that in ancient Greece, temples were built of marble painted in primary colors. But by the time they were discovered by Europeans in the eighteenth century, the paint was long gone, leaving the white marble. And to this day, people associate the Greek Revival with the color white – the white columned look.

It's a bit perverse to later copy such aspects of stone buildings by imitating them with timber as happened in the West starting in the 1800's with the Greek Revival period. Buildings of timber were intelligently copied by builders of stone in ancient times  - by that I mean, they used stone in respect to its strengths and not weaknesses, as I'm sure they would have found pretty quickly what the limits of stone were if they tried to copy timber structures too closely. The Greek Revival buildings are however are arguably less intelligently copied, as one can imitate stone in timber quite faithfully without having an immediate result of structural failure. the fact that a building of wood with little or no eaves weathers vastly more poorly than a stone building seems to have been overlooked, or was simply not considered somehow.

In 1831, Alexis de Tocqueville and Gustave de Beaumont were sent by the French government to study the American prison system. In his later letters Tocqueville indicates that he and Beaumont used their official business as a pretext to study American society instead. Following his return to France in 1832, Alexis de Tocqueville wrote De La Démocratie en Amérique, or (On) Democracy in America, published in two volumes, the first in 1835 and the second in 1840. In Volume II we find Chapter XI, "Of The Spirit In Which The Americans Cultivate The Arts", where some very salient points are made about the production of the arts in democracies generally. I'll quote a couple of paragraphs, as it bears upon Greek Revival architecture:

"This leads me to speak of those arts which are called the fine arts, by way of distinction. I do not believe that it is a necessary effect of a democratic social condition and of democratic institutions to diminish the number of men who cultivate the fine arts; but these causes exert a very powerful influence on the manner in which these arts are cultivated. Many of those who had already contracted a taste for the fine arts are impoverished: on the other hand, many of those who are not yet rich begin to conceive that taste, at least by imitation; and the number of consumers increases, but opulent and fastidious consumers become more scarce.

Something analogous to what I have already pointed out in the useful arts then takes place in the fine arts; the productions of artists are more numerous, but the merit of each production is diminished. No longer able to soar to what is great, they cultivate what is pretty and elegant; and appearance is more attended to than reality. In aristocracies a few great pictures are produced; in democratic countries, a vast number of insignificant ones. In the former, statues are raised of bronze; in the latter, they are modeled in plaster.

When I arrived for the first time at New York, by that part of the Atlantic Ocean which is called the Narrows, I was surprised to perceive along the shore, at some distance from the city, a considerable number of little palaces of white marble, several of which were built after the models of ancient architecture. When I went the next day to inspect more closely the building which had particularly attracted my notice, I found that its walls were of whitewashed brick, and its columns of painted wood. All the edifices which I had admired the night before were of the same kind."

Anyhow, some minor observations aside, let's get to the topic at hand.

If you look at the stone buildings of classic antiquity, the most famous is undoubtedly the Parthenon in Athens, now in a state of some disrepair (though it is being restored currently):

The Parthenon is widely regarded as the finest example of ancient Greek architecture, the zenith of the Doric order.

It has been widely copied. The Parthenon is a symbol of democracy, the classical desire for ideal perfection and has a very rich cultural significance to Athenians. In the US, the building which started the Greek Revival craze was the Second Bank of the United States in Philadelphia, constructed 1819~1824:

The building's exterior uses Pennsylvania blue marble, which, due to the manner in which it was cut, has begun to deteriorate from the exposure to the elements of the weak parts of the stone. The building now serves as an art gallery.

Then we have the Federal Hall National Memorial on Wall Street, built 1833~1842:

It has a little dome on top, not visible from street level.

Opened in 1835, the third Indiana Statehouse, designed by the firm of Town and Davis, was Antebellum America’s closest replication of the Parthenon:

The above structure is long gone. To quote directly from the ICAA's page on Parthenon derivatives in the US,
"The limestone constructed statehouse gave the appearance of solidity and permanence, but by the 1860s it had become shabby and its foundations began to fail. The building was finally condemned and demolished in 1877, having served Indiana for only forty-two years, a surprisingly poor record when compared to its ancient Greek precedents."

In Nashville there is a full-scale Parthenon replica, built in 1897:

In Germany there is Leo von Klenze’s Walhalla, completed in 1842:

In England there is the Birmingham Town Hall Chamberlain Square:

In Oslo there is the University of Oslo's Faculty of Law building, the middle section of which, borrowing from the Parthenon's facade, is termed the Domus Media:

There are Parthenon-inspired structures all over Europe, and Russia, however an exhaustive cataloging of those structures is not the point here - only to list a few notable examples to show the influence of the Parthenon upon some of the most important Western Edifices of the past 200 years.

The Parthenon, as such, is not the original building on the site of the Acropolis. There was a 'pre-Parthenon', which was destroyed in 480 BC. The structure we see today was a project initiated by the Athenian Statesman and General Pericles - here's a stone bust of the fellow:

Pericles initiated what might be loosely called a "Make Athens Great Again" campaign in 447 BC,  with an ambitious building project atop the Acropolis. The architects Ictinos and Callicrates began their work in 447 BC, and the building was substantially completed by 432, but work on the decorations continued until at least 431. The period 460~430 BC is termed the "Golden Age of Athens". Athens got into a kerfuffle with Sparta, leading to the Peloponnesian War, which interrupted construction. The temple was finished during the Peace of Nicias, between 421 BC and 409 BC. The term 'Peloponnesian War' is all but universally used today is a reflection of the Athens-centric sympathies of modern historians. As prominent historian J. B. Bury remarked, the Peloponnesians would have considered it the "Attic War".

This is akin to the conflict termed the 'Vietnam War' by most of the Western world, is however termed the 'American War' by the Vietnamese themselves.

According to Wikipedia, the Peloponnesian War reshaped the ancient Greek world. On the level of international relations, Athens, the strongest city-state in Greece prior to the war's beginning, was reduced to a state of near-complete subjection, while Sparta became established as the leading power of Greece. The economic costs of the war were felt all across Greece; poverty became widespread in the Peloponnese, while Athens found itself completely devastated, and never regained its pre-war prosperity. The war also wrought subtler changes to Greek society; the conflict between democratic Athens and oligarchic Sparta, each of which supported friendly political factions within other states, made civil war a common occurrence in the Greek world.

Greek warfare, meanwhile, originally a limited and formalized form of conflict, was transformed into an all-out struggle between city-states, complete with atrocities on a large scale. Shattering religious and cultural taboos, devastating vast swathes of countryside, and destroying whole cities, the Peloponnesian War marked the dramatic end to the fifth century BC and the golden age of Greece.

Though the conflict shattered Athenian society, the Parthenon survived intact. In the third century Greece was attacked by sea by the Herules, an east Germanic tribe originating in southern Sweden. They were marauding barbarians like the Goths and Huns. The Herules apparently practiced a warrior-based male homosexuality, along with the practice of senicide, where the sick and elderly were killed and burned (by a non-relative, conveniently). Following the death of their husbands, Herul women were expected to commit suicide by hanging. An easy-going group, all in all, wouldn't you say?

The Parthenon survived the Herules. Then it survived the Byzantine Period, (330~1453) the last hurrah of the Roman Empire. Following a decree by Roman emperor Theodosius II in 435, that all pagan temples be closed, the Parthenon came to be used as a Christian church dedicated to the Virgin Mary. That's not so far off I suppose, as the term 'Parthenon'  connects to the epithet parthénos meaning "maiden, girl", but also "virgin, unmarried woman" and was especially used for Artemis, the goddess of wild animals, the hunt, and vegetation, and for Athena, the goddess of strategy and tactics, handicraft, and practical reason.

The Byzantine ended with the Byzantine-Ottoman Wars and the fall of Constantinople. In 1456 Ottoman Turks invaded Athens and after a year-long siege, gained control. The Parthenon was then appropriated for use as a Mosque, the Christian altar being removed, minaret's added, and Christian imagery whitewashed over. The Parthenon was still largely intact however, as a drawing published in 1688 shows:

The interesting thing about this picture is the roof depicted. It was an accurate drawing, however the roof pitch we can see in the drawing was not original to the structure. The ancient roof had been severely damaged by a fire in the 3rd century, and had been rebuilt with the steeper pitch. It would be most interesting to learn how they adapted the steeper pitch roof onto the older one, however the evidence is long since gone as far as I know.

The Ottoman Turks got into a war with the Venetians in 1683, a conflict now termed the Great Turkish War. It was the 6th war between the two parties.

The year 1687 was not a good one for the Parthenon. The Ottoman Turks had fortified the Parthenon and were using it for the storage of gunpowder. The Venetians sent a charmer named Francesco Morosini to attack Athens and capture the Acropolis. Most of his soldiers were German mercenaries. Here's a portrait of Francesco, who apparently always dressed in red from shoes to hat, and went into battle accompanied by his cat:

Right away he comes across as a colorful character, if not a nut.

As historian of Athens Dimitrios Kambouroglou writes: “The Venetians had discovered the secret for conquering the world. They didn’t trouble themselves to have their own armies and generals. They rented them.” The Venetians took on the obligation to pay the mercenaries, supply them with war-making materials and ensure that their food supplies were adequate. This was paid for by selling state offices and titles of nobility.

The mercenary forces were placed under the administration of Count Otto Wilhelm Königsmarck (1639-1688), a commander in the Swedish Army. With 10,000 mercenaries and Königsmarck in tow, Morosini advanced to Athens, only to find the Turks walled up inside the various structures atop a recently-fortified Acropolis. The Turks had long gotten wind of the Venetian forces advance, and had taken up a defensive position. The Acropolis, as it turned out, was the only defensible position in the entire city. The Turks wanted to hold onto Athens, as without it they feared they would lose their foothold in Greece altogether. Upon arriving, Morosini offered the Turks safe passage out if they surrendered, but that was refused. The Turks, as it turned out, were expecting reinforcements and figured they could hold off Morosini for long enough for those forces to arrive.

According to a page on the website dedicated to the archaeology of the City of Athens, on the morning of September 23, the Venetian artillery was in its final positions and began to systematically strike the Acropolis. In charge of the artillery was Antonio Muitoni, Count di San Felice, who most witnesses accuse of being totally incapable. Amply ironic descriptions from his collaborators tell us that “often the shells sailed over the Fortress and landed on the other side, resulting in the deaths of the besiegers instead of the besieged.”

He was replaced by a more capable gunner named Leandros, while Königsmarck personally supervised the shelling. On September 25, according to the Count Léon de Laborde, a bomb landed in the small powder magazine in the Propylion (the entrance/gateway to the Acropolis) the gunpowder ignited and a portion of the Propylion collapsed. The Venetians continued to bombard the Fortress with undiminished intensity however. 

According to a witness, (the German officer) Sobievolski, on September 22, an escapee from the Fortress informed the Venetians that all of the ammunition had been transferred to the so-called Temple of Athena and that all of the Turkish dignitaries had taken refuge there in the belief that the Christians would never damage the temple. After receiving the information, most of the mortars were now directed at the temple, without, however, success, since the temple was marble, and thus the building was well protected.

The night of September 26 (towards the 27th), during the full moon, a bomb—some claim that it was fired by a lieutenant from Luneburg - managed to pass through an opening in the roof of the Parthenon and then ignited a large quantity of gunpowder that was stored within the temple. The explosion that followed split the building in two, ruining the finest structure of classical Art. The Venetians, according to the sources, exploded in cheers. Some shouted “Long Live the Republic”, others “Long Live Königsmarck”.

That reminds me of a scene from the satire 'Team America: World Police':

The explosion on the night of September 26th collapsed three of the four walls of the Parthenon, took down the entire roof, and caused 3/5ths of the sculptures on the walls to come down. Some 300 Turks, mostly women and children, were killed. The night of September 26th through following day, the Acropolis burned.

Did the Turks surrender after this catastrophe? No, they did not. One can certainly blame the forces under Morosini's control for the destruction of a priceless work of art, however the Turks were equally culpable in a sense. The Turkish strategy was to withstand the siege by the Venetians until the point came where a relief attempt from the Ottoman army from Thebes could arrive. However, this force was repulsed, without a shot fired, by Königsmarck the 28th of September. It was only after that retreat had transpired did the Turks surrender their position on the Acropolis. Their strategy had proved ill-conceived, and the Parthenon had been destroyed for nothing.

Following the withdrawal of the Turkish forces, Morosini's forces took up occupation of Athens. All was not well however, as internal conflicts within the group between mercenaries and commanders, arguments over pay, disagreements of religion, and the gradual amassing of Turkish forces nearby, led to a change in plans. On December 31, 1687, Morosini convened a war council in Piraeus where he laid out the critical nature of the situation. He demonstrated that, in order for Athens to be properly fortified, many years of labor and around 3000 laborers would be required. Excluding this, he proposed abandoning Athens, exiling the Athenians in order to avoid their slaughter by the Turks and, finally, using explosives to level the city and the Acropolis to their foundations, in order the prevent the Turks from once more fortifying them.

You can tell how much he cared about works of antiquity. On February 12th of 1688, the final decision was made by Morosini's council to abandon the city. By that point, there was not time nor the means however to carry out their plan to demolish the city. Instead, following the orders he had received from the Venetian Senate to strip the Acropolis of whatever good stuff he could get,

          "Morosini chose the best preserved statues of the western pediment and tried to remove them. He writes in his report of March 19: An effort was made to remove the large pediment, but collapsed from the colossal height and it is a miracle that something didn’t happen to some laborer. The reason is that the structure is built without mortar and the various stones are assembled together with remarkable skill. Furthermore, from the explosion in the gun powder magazine, the structure suffered a most serious shock. Our inability to erect scaffolds, by transferring from the galleys the high masts and other necessary mechanisms, has forced us to abandon any subsequent effort. As a result, every effort to remove other sculpted decorations has ceased. Furthermore, missing from the buildings at this point are the most wonderful pieces and those that remain are of lower value and manifest missing parts due to their age. By all means, he continued, “I decided to take a lioness of the most beautiful artfulness, even if its head is missing, that could be easily be replaced, however, with the marble that I will send you along with the lioness and is of a like.
       In total, Morosini took whatever lions he found: one from the Acropolis, one from the district of the Theseion, and of course, the well-known Lion of Piraeus, which was the reason that the port of Piraeus had been named Porto Leone. The lions were transported to Venice and, from that time, have adorned the Naval Station of the Republic as a trophy of the victors. Morosini’s officers, Venetian and foreign, took with them whatever pieces were easily transportable. Items from the Parthenon or other monuments of Athens which today are found in private collections and European museums without anyone knowing how, were possibly transported in this period by the soldiers of Morosini’s army."
Above quote from http://www.eie.gr/archaeologia/En/chapter_more_8.aspx

The destruction of the Parthenon accomplished nothing for the Venetians, save for a few looted artifacts and a hollow temporary victory. In 1688, Athens was retaken by the Ottoman Turks. They built a new mosque in the ruins of the Parthenon, as a painting from the early 1830s shows:

From a military standpoint, the campaign against Athens was an unsuccessful venture at best, however it remains historically significant because it resulted in the destruction of the greatest masterpiece of classical antiquity. The Venetians, of course, looked at the matter from the mindset of the era. They attempted with mortars to destroy the Acropolis, then celebrated when the Parthenon exploded and their goal was attained, while the only reason they did not destroy the monuments before abandoning Athens was the lack of time, workers and tools.

Morosini was a highly capable general, despite his eccentricities otherwise. Once the decision to attack was made, the Acropolis, for him, was merely another fortress and the Parthenon another powder magazine that needed, at all costs, to be conquered by arms. As James Morton Paton wrote in 1940 in his work The Venetians in Athens, 1687-1688, it was amongst the first and, by all means worst instances where “strategic necessity” turned modern weapons against an unrivaled work of art.

I find the history of the Parthenon intriguing. You can build something as an ode to permanence, and yet permanence is relative in an age of gunpowder, and people do not always value the great works of the past.

More interesting yet though is the nature of the Parthenon's structure itself, for it is not all it appears. It is in fact an incredibly sophisticated design. More on this in Part II of this Post. Thanks for visiting the Carpentry Way.