|Title:||Good news for modern man?: architecture as evangelical mission in southern Nigeria|
|Publication info:||Ann Arbor, Michigan: MPublishing, University of Michigan Library
This work is protected by copyright and may be linked to without seeking permission. Permission must be received for subsequent distribution in print or electronically. Please contact firstname.lastname@example.org for more information.
Good news for modern man?: architecture as evangelical mission in southern Nigeria
Evanston, IL: Program of African Studies, Northwestern University
no. 6, pp. 13-15, 1993
|Author Biography:||Ikem Okoye is a doctoral candidate in the Architecture History and Criticism Program, M.I.T., and a 1992-93 Fellow of the Institute for Advanced Study and Research in the African Humanities, Northwestern University.|
GOOD NEWS FOR MODERN MAN?: Architecture as Evangelical Mission in Southern Nigeria
The problem of the relevance of the art and architecture traditions of the various ethnic communities of Nigeria to present day Nigeria appears to have occupied Nigerian artists and architects for several decades, often coming down as a division between those who saw themselves as neo-traditionalists and those we might call anti-traditionalists. Indeed, what in the late fifties was felt as the constant threat by the past to re-enter the present at the moment of the Colonial retreat, occupied more than just the artists as such, and became national issues in Nigeria as in other West African countries. That is, the role of the past in the present became the subject of major proclamations by then young and aspiring political leaders, some of whom eventually were to occupy high political office not many years later.
Perhaps in West Africa the most ardent traditionalist was Ghana's Nana Ofori Atta, and the most strident futurist was Nigeria's Nnamdi Azikiwe.
Nana Sir Ofori Atta was decrying that:
We have heard so much of a 'New Africa' coming to birth. The protagonists of the New Africa are spreading doctrines which can only cause trouble in the country ... if disrespect and contempt for (traditional figures) is to be taught ... then there is a real danger.
While in Nigeria, playing we must note to an intra-West African audience, Nnamdi Azikiwe who subsequently became Nigeria's first President, was of the contrary opinion that:
"... the Old Africa must be destroyed because it is at death-grips with the New Africa ... the Africa of tomorrow.... the Renaissance of Africans and the reformation of African society."
For a moment as we will see, it seemed in the context of Nigerian art and architecture, as if the futurists, those whose art bespoke a future Utopia, had the day. Nevertheless, as that future arrived, far from the expected experience of Utopia, a torrent of criticism became levelled at the new reality. New futures were proposed, in which former utopias, beyond the customary as they might have been, were suddenly conceived of as a part of Tradition, held subject to indictment in terms very similar to those by which the conventional (if invented) Tradition had been interrogated.
This paper will seek to understand, prodded by a select example, how in the production of architecture  and of architectural discourse in Nigeria, the past is constantly reinvented for the present, utilizing a standard set of practices. That is, we show how in proposing the future in the present, the past is always named Tradition, a term which most recently has come even to mean the lyrical but concrete framed architecture made desirable for Europeans and Americans in the early decades of this century by European examples of it in Paris and Berlin, and widely popularized in Nigeria in the 1960's and 70's.
We need to return to an earlier moment; to the eighteenth century, when it would seem that in the mind of the European traveller visiting (and writing about) Africa, the uncivilized status which for them local populations quickly acquired, was linked partly to the way in which the buildings they inhabited became perceived . European culture had therefore, even before its widespread knowledge of Africa, theorized the evolutionary principle in architecture, in which theory, the Primitive Hut became a standard icon of the noble if primitive origins of the art form . The original Primitive Hut itself would not of course have been known by a generality of travellers, but the idea became dispersed in European culture through the various and mainly imagined representations of primitive social life that were offered by artists and illustrators, from Hans Burgkmair to Thierry deBry.
In European architectural discourse specifically, this is observed in the evolutionist architectural theories of Violet le Duc  and of Gottfried Semper . By the time Europeans had penetrated the coastal areas of what would subsequently become Nigeria, therefore, the former were to show little interest in the architecture with which they were faced, except in so far as it provided the general background for a primitive man , whose eradication it was their project to accomplish. Interestingly, writing therefore repeats in a classical form the visual representation of the savage, often identified as noble, in representations of village life in West Africa.
It is therefore not suprising to find that for both the various Christian missions, as well as for the Colonial administrative outpost (which usually included a courthouse, some administrative offices, and the living accommodation of the local Colonial official), architecture became the site on which to construct and represent European difference, and that the Mission Station and the Native Court, became the places where one might appear to glimpse the new civility in all its 'propriety'.
We may note that, along with other devaluations of local culture, Nigerians have absorbed to a considerable extent, the Colonial ridicule of their own cultures of architecture, reducing its communicative complexity to silence. Thus in 1981 for example, the Cultural Attache of the Nigerian High Commission in London, would respond to an enquiry about research opportunities for a project on pre-modern architecture, by insisting that this was a pointless exercise, as '.... you know now  ... that before Oyibo people came to our country, we did not have such a thing like architecture. It was only since the Colonial times that we have architecture. Only since then we know about such things like architecture.'
There is of course some truth in this statement, especially as no Nigerian language has a word for architecture as such, distinct that is from building, from building ornamentation and decoration, or from building craftsmanship. It might be easy to discount the cultural attache's position as the benign ignorance of an official with a limited interest in culture and with a proclivity to take in the propaganda of the Colony without criticism, were it not for the fact that many Nigerians do not see their pre-colonial architecture as architecture at all, and that when they do of the new architecture produced in the 1920s and 1930s, they often believe it to be a product of the late 1950's. That is, for buildings which we may agree momentarily to define as Traditional, the general tendency is to name it Architecture, to be ashamed of it really, and to wish to talk of other things. With buildings of a non traditional kind produced in the same period, the tendency is on the other hand to be convinced that it is only a result of a very recent enlightenment.
It would be possible to trace the process by which this mentality was formed and instituted in the 1940's and 1950's. However, in this short paper, we are interested in how it was reinvented and maintained from the nineteen sixties up to the present moment, particularly as the year 1960 marked the achievement of Independence, and since in the decolonization process that we expect to have commenced thereafter, a recuperation of the self denigration which Colonialism itself enforced, might be attempted.
Six years ago, the weekly Nigerian magazine Newswatch, apparently modelled on the likes of Newsweek and of Time, published an article in its architecture section with the following caption: "A House Of Glass: Nigerian architects join the Space Age with the introduction of 'curtain walls.' " The article, whose main thrust is well anticipated by its title, describes a then new building (1986) in Lagos for the International Merchant Bank. The essay attempts to link the curtain wall as a representation of modernity with the age of the Space Shuttle and of Skylab, claiming therefore that the building symbolizes Nigeria's full entry and participation in the cutting edge of the contemporary technological universe.
A number of unlikely juxtapositions will however be found to exist on a closer reading of the essay. Firstly, a formidable attempt at collapsing time is involved in the suggestion that the curtain-wall (whose use dates at least to as early as 1932, but the idea of which existed in Mies van der Rohe's work  of the 1920's) is in any sense new and of the same technological era as the Space Shuttle. It is even more curious to read that the building's project coordinator (who at the time was also a Professor at the University of Lagos) describes the building as ".... a new frontier within Nigerian architecture.... introducing the new international style into the country." (my emphasis).
The critical position that the article's writer takes is clear where the Corbusian  concrete frame (described as boring, and no more than " ... another form of boxes with holes on the sides called windows ...") is contrasted with the more " ... aesthetically pleasing ... shining uniform facile or glass that has been associated with the corporate image among banks and oil companies in the west" [sic].
The article's ideological strains become however more incisive when quoted more fully. Further on in the article the statement which is reproduced at length here, claims that:
Corporate offices [in Nigeria] have tried to experiment with radical concepts mainly imported from the west. But the most significant historical trend among them has been their complete reliance on bricks, steel and concrete which surprisingly have also turned out to be another form of boxes with holes on the sides called windows. They are good for lighting and ventilation. On the whole, they are not as aesthetically pleasing as the shinning uniform facile or glass (sic) [facade of glass?] that has been associated with corporate images among banks and oil companies in the west.
But since the era of the economic boom, however, a small civilizing mission has been underway in Nigeria. It preaches the virtue of glass as a major building material. Glass or curtain walls—as they are fondly called by architects because the glass acts as a reflector and prevents (the) sun rays from entering the building-are an excellent building material. (my emphasis).
To our ears today, the flow of the articles argument, if one dares call it that, seems curious and paradoxical, due to the fact that pervading the author's notion of International Style architecture is firstly the conviction that is in some sense liberating. This is further emphasized by the metaphor of the early Christian missionary in some remote jungle. It brings to mind the cliched image of the idea of God being brought to the Pagan (and perhaps cannibal) tribe in some place yet uncharted by European cartography. Seemingly persuaded by avant-garde thinking of over half a century ago, it displays an unusual tendency for the annihilation of historical time. That is, it employs the language of the early modernist utopia, as if it was just invented today, and then goes on to claim that Nigeria is at the doorstep of such Utopia.
How are we to understand this writing? How are we to lend its discursive practice an intelligibility that it seems to lack?
One way of attempting such an understanding is to reconstruct the history of Modern building in Nigeria, and in particular of how the culture behind it used the ideologies of progress and of the future typical of modernist rhetoric in Europe and in America, for its own particular purposes.
INDEPENDENCE STYLE ARCHITECTURE
The year 1960, marking the opening of Africa's so-called 'decade of Independence', appears to have marked the arrival of modern architecture to the surface of public consciousness, if not per se to West Africa as a place. In January 1960, an issue of the weekly news magazine West Africa, ran an item titled 'Skyscraper for Ibadan', along with which went an illustrator's birds eye view perspective (fig. 1) imagining what the completed project might look like. The proposal, which was for a mixed use shopping mall, was to provide the second skyscraper for the precolonial city of Ibadan, a town which was in existence and which already possessed the highest building in West Africa.
Of a series which embraced many houses and office buildings, including one for the United African Company, the crowning gesture however towards this modernity of the grandiose did not take place until two years later in 1963. This was the decanting of Lagos Civil servants from various colonial style buildings dispersed through the city, into the then just completed 25-storey International Style building, which was aptly named Independence House. This move, and the building into which the exodus was absorbed were thus bound to attain a value as symbols signifying the now centralized and self governing state apparatus.
We may note, and not exactly in passing, that previously, in 1959 (exactly two years after Ghana became independent), the United African Company ran a series of advertisements in the political journal West Africa. Titled 'Seeds of Progress' (see fig 6). One may observe many things in the illustration, but we see that the particular building it illustrates is more characteristic of Public Works Department functionalism than of modern architecture. It nevertheless establishes a relationship between the idea and the possibility of progress as dependent on the acceptance of new technologies, which in turn is indexed by the growth of the buildings.
In early 1960 (the year of Nigeria's Independence), the theme of UAC's advertisement campaign still centered around the idea of Progress (fig. 2). The series titled 'Progress through teamwork' features the same two arms tugging at a thick rope, representing (one supposes) the UAC's '... lending of its strength to the achievement of their (West Africa's) ambition.' 
More instructive however is the fact that the building has been transformed from a pitch-roofed rectangular pre-modern building of the previously described advertisement, into a very modern flat-roofed five-storied building which apparently represents Accra's then new department store. 'Independence' is then therefore already a warped concept if it is already unashamedly sold (so early on in its history) as the borrowing of "... the most advanced ideas from the United Kingdom, America and the Continent,"  and as a place where supermarkets are equipped with "... air conditioned self-service refrigerated foods, a ladies' Fashion Salon, a pharmacy with dispensing and photographic services, a spacious restaurant and cafeteria, and a post office." The modern building together with modern facilities are here used to make the first representation of 'Independence' (see fig. 3).
By April of the same year however, the UAC series reappeared under a new light. Gone is progress as the linchpin of the ideological construction. It is now replaced by a new word: Change. The new advertisement which is titled 'Change in West Africa' features a traditional market scene looking somewhat chaotic, but nevertheless well established and successful. In the midst of all this has been placed a gaping hole, as if the result of a mortar explosion. Above this hovers a new shopping center complex, which appears as if it is just about to descend. This graphically illustrates a view of 'Independence' expressed elsewhere in the advertisement as "... the winning of wealth from the wasteland." (my emphasis). This of course implies that everything about the existing colonial and indigenous culture must be considered of no value if the desired result of " ... stimulating the desires that make progress possible"  is to be achieved. Again modern architecture is the representational image of the proposed devastating changes.
This overt ideological use of modern architecture was not very wide spread. Other advertisers did however produce graphic works which can only be seen as part of the same paradigm, even if it is more subtle. The international building-contracting firm Taylor Woodrow ran its own series of advertisements whose central theme was the ethic of 'Teamwork.' The artwork always featured a group of four men (alternately white and then black in a single row) at one end of what appears to be a tug-of-war match. No explicit statements regarding the identity of the four men is ever made. The group of men could represent Taylor Woodrow on the one hand, laboring together with the West African on the other. Alternately, they could represent Taylor Woodrow alone, and the supposedly internationally derived character of its work force. The advertisements also always featured buildings for which Taylor Woodrow had been the main building-contractor (usually photographs of the building are used, rather than sketches, except on projects that are not yet completed). One exception to this rule, and one which happens to be of real interest for the present writer's argument, is the one which declares: "Great Buildings Begin.... with Team work", and which chooses as its great building not anything in the style that Taylor Woodrow had been involved with in Nigeria to that date, but rather presents the public with a slightly fantastic building whose main body is a completely glazed curtain walled volume with opaque panel strips running horizontally against pronounced vertical mullions. It was not more than a few years into the sixties, and into the Utopia of Independence therefore, before a kind of opposition to this became articulated. This occurred first in buildings such as one in Lagos by Alan Vaughan Richards, in which traditional forms, including the circularity of enclosed space and the deeply recessive quality of African masks (Yoruba Ikpellipka mask). Later, the discourse which had surrounded this neo traditionalist position from the start, but which had been wavering in the face of the challenge thrown by the supposed utilitarian and climatic functionalism of the Modern, became insistent:
.... the acceptance of an architecture determined solely by climate, and disregarding the cultural factor-the lifestyles of the people who will use the space—is very disturbing. In government sponsored, and private housing projects, on university campuses, in cities or in villages, the influence of modern climatically determined architecture is pervasive.
We must draw upon our traditions.... 
In order to understand, however, why this oppositionality rarely resulted in opportunities to build, we need to resist the temptation to remain at the surface of the images in which we have recognized some strategies of the reconstitution of the past. Thus only are we able to apprehend the networks which underlie the longevity of its ideological projection. In this regard however, other images such as one produced and published for G. B. Ollivant, which are seemingly more subtle than the destructive market scene, paradoxically allow us to ask a number of pertinent questions.
G. B. Ollivant were suppliers of metal windows and doors, and switched in their advertizing, from a typical trade-journal type announcement of their wares, to one in which the twin ideas of 'better building' and of a tall completely glazed structure was introduced. The Ollivant advertisement goes even further than does the one so far considered in actually claiming that what is at issue in the definition of the quality of a building is the material in which it is constructed: this material being (in the advertiser's opinion) aluminum or other galvanized metals which it is said would guarantee a building's eternity.
It is interesting, and partly coincidental that numerous buildings were constructed in a modernist style, using metal windows and doors, reinforced concrete and large expanses of glass, in and after the period in which these advertisements were run. Coincidental, in the sense that no one may claim that advertising in West Africa actually spurred a building boom in Nigeria, let alone one that used these materials. Rather, it would seem that because G.B. Ollivant was a monopoly of sorts, the advertisements were run as the new state had already commenced on a questionable path to progress: of that is, a desire to embrace all that was western, and to erase anything from its own pre-colonial past, which might find its way inadvertently into the present. This is especially comprehensible given that this past was by the time seen largely in the terms in which it had been constructed by Victorian Britons, and by Christian missionaries: that is as primitive, backward, static and isolated from the march of time and of world history. No matter how inaccurate this conception was, it created the mentality in which International style architecture seen as a necessary part of 'Independent' progress was bound to be attractive to the new political class who themselves were submerged in this futurist utopia. That the linkage between the two ideas was very successful is clear. What is often unseen and is in need of demonstration is the fact that the encouragement of this linkage was taken on by many organizations deliberately, and that for the very reason that it benefits them, it also effectively undermined the possibility for Nigeria of a relatively independent and self-determined path of development.
How for example were these hugely expensive buildings paid for? And what does the financial background to their possibility tell us about this new Present? In the first place, the financing of the projects was shouldered mainly by foreign investment companies most usually in the form of a loan. The two skyscraper projects described earlier (each estimated then at the equivalent of $5M, or at today's prices at over $90M) were financed by City Properties business Ltd, and by National Investment and Properties Company, both Londonbased firms. The mechanisms involved are perhaps well illustrated by the latter company's proposal for a new town of thirty thousand inhabitants which was to cost a total of some eleven million pounds, for which it was reported that the building of the town ' ... had been agreed in principle but implementation depends on overseas mortgage companies making loans to prospective buyers of houses.' Indebtedness to foreign financiers was therefore a trend that involved the state as well as its individual members.
The situation, then, is however more unfortunate when it is seen that the thirst for modern architecture meant that, save for the most unskilled amongst the labor force, the actors in building production ceased to largely consist the local population. This meant effectively that foreign loans were being used to create employment not for the local population who would benefit from it, but for foreign 'specialists' and 'consultants' who were often from the very same countries from which the loans were taken. For example, the engineers responsible for the construction of major buildings all over West Africa were invariably the British owned firm Ove Arup and Partners. The main contractors were either Taylor Woodrow (based in London, but often with a local business registration) or the Italian company Cappa D'Alberto Ltd. Moreover, the building materials used in these projects were mainly imported. The window utilized to create the 'better buildings' were most often manufactured abroad. Independence House for example was clad in windows manufactured in Essex, England, by the firm of Crittal. The particular contract of the Independence House project was called a Crittal-Hope contract which becomes meaningful on the discovery that Mr. Michael Hope and Mr, John Crittal announced a merger in the same year, saying that they ' ... were confident that they would be able to increase their export orders on a global basis by twenty percent over the next two years.'
The selling of the idea of 'better building' and of 'Great architecture' by its linkage with foreign materials and technology as the basis for independence and progress was therefore hardly without a particular self-interest, which in being so successful at times begins to border on being conspiratorial. Certainly the manifestoes of the leaders of modern architectural movements, contributed to the possibility of this approach for catapulting the newly independent into modernity. Both the German born emigre Mies van der Rohe, as well as Swiss French architect Le Corbusier implied in various pronouncements that it was the choice of particular material over others.... of particular forms of building assembly over others that defines architectures entering of the new era. Further, these architects would lend modern architecture an autonomy and freedom from certain kinds of criticism, by proclaiming in the context of Europe itself that:
The new (industrialized) era is a fact; it exists entirely independently of whether we say 'yes' or 'no' to it. But it is neither better nor worse than any other era. It is a pure datum and in itself neutral as to value.
Of course we cannot assume that these architects would have maintained the same position had they been speaking in Nigeria rather than in Berlin, though we have a lot of evidence to suggest that they most likely would have. That is we are persuaded that location would hardly have effected the theoretical positions they declared. Mies's proposed projects for Cuba, and Walter Gropius's for Baghdad University are ample evidence for this fact.
These approaches to utilizing industrialized building materials, and the industrialized processes of building assembly in non-industrialized settings fail both to see and to admit that an architecture of assembly would, in the context of capitalist expansion (whether within the state itself or beyond the state's own boundaries), become an architecture of exploitation. This is revealed in the suggestion that such a reorganization of labor is somehow 'neutral.' These claims for autonomy laid the basis for an extension of such autonomy to include non-independence also on cultural and economic circumstances and contexts. It also provides the surface on which the extension of capitalism to the margins of its world became possible. That is, the linkage of a dehistoricizing modernist ideology, the utopias of Independence, and the exploitative possibilities of an architecture of assemblage proved explosive. All over the newly emergent states these factors combined to create symbols of a modernity, which tradition is still maintained even in to our own period, as is illustrated by the many buildings of the equally presentist new capital city of Abuja. The curiosity of undertaking the project for Abuja, intended both to propel and to symbolize the propulsion of Nigeria into 'the present' is by now well recognized, even by many Nigerians (even if belatedly).
To remain within the bounds of historicity however, we must point out that no direct link is traceable between the persons of Mies van der Rohe or Le Corbusier and any of the other architects then practicing in West Africa as one may for example establish for India and Brazil. The evidence we have is only what is suggested in their buildings.
However, we may not that in an article by Peter Melvin in the West African Builder and Architect, then the only architectural journal published in West Africa, and in which the validity of different approaches to design is the subject under discussion, four architects are used to illustrate and exemplify the articles main thrust, with the emphasis being on Louis Sullivan and Mies van der Rohe. The latter's famous Lakeshore Drive project here in Chicago, appears in this West African journal as an example of good design, accompanied by a very brief description of the building, and by an appended photograph. This may indicate where the theoretical influences in the professional practice of architecture at the time were coming from in Nigeria, since the journal rarely published articles of a theoretical kind.
It must be significant that on such a rare occasion, and therefore one which would be seen to be serving as a kind of introduction to architectural theorizing, the central figures are that of American architects Louis Sullivan and Mies van der Rohe, and not of equally important modernist architects of Europe such as Le Corbusier. That is, in spite of the criticisms we my level against Nigerian elite society so intent on symbolizing its membership of an international 'establishment', and its unreal desire to propel themselves thus into the present of others, we may still recognize a radical and oppositional quality to the choices made here. The skyscraper Independence House in imitating American late modernism as opposed to its European version seems to represent a revolt against the European tradition and the seeking after new forms and solutions to embody the social changes taking place throughout the region. If, that is one has revolted against the colonial power, and in the meantime has absorbed the colonial ideology which represented Africa's own past as having been a cultural wasteland, the choice of America as the alternative seems almost natural, given especially the knowledge that America itself was once a colony that revolted successfully against the British Colonial government.
The tragedy of it however, is that at the very same moment, new and even more powerful forms of dependence were being forged by the metaphor of Independence as this metaphor was being advertized. The very 'silence' of the modernist idiom, its refusal to be seen as partaking of any larger ideological framework so aptly encapsulated in its buildings clean and uncluttered lines, allowed even in the Nigerian context, the transmission of such ambiguous messages simultaneously. The reception of such messages was and is often still confused, and explains well both the babbling discourse of Oghuma's synchronic time-frame (as is obvious in his articles compression of historical time), as well as the persistence of the pseudo-modern architecture that the IMB building represents.
We may understand this persistence, even long after its abandonment in the West from whence it came, as related to the fact that it is painfully obvious that the present context is one in which the global relations of production are largely unchanged by the 'Independence' of many of the primary producers. Modernity, at least in the form in which it is manifested in European and American presents remains elusive. It would seem therefore that the only way in which a justification, against all common sense and propriety, can be found for its perpetuation in architecture, is to enshrine the modernist myths of its own inevitability, oppositionality and ahistoricity within the contemporary social context. This contexts is one in which has been produced a desire for social and economic 'liberation' and, in the circumstances, its natural corollary: the defensive claim that a state of permanent revolution not only does exist, but is necessary.
1. A fuller version of this paper includes the similar dilemmas in the art world, but for brevity we cannot include this here.
2. Archibald Dalzel's History of Dahomy (sic) [London 1793], for example includes an illustration (fig 4) titled Victims of Sacrifice, and which features a post and beam grass roofed hall, along whose edges sit an encircling row of individuals supposedly watching the sacrifice, and around which are standing and dancing (in a wider circle), a large number of gesticulating sparsely clad male Africans.
3. Quartremere deQuincy first theorized the idea of the Primitive Hut, as the origin of architecture, the archetype in which shelter begins, though only just, to take on an intentionality that is not in every possible sense strictly functional. This fact does not however dispute this paper's position, as we must see this simply as the strategy of Othering, which in order to define difference, must do so in terms if aspects of sameness.
4. Euguene Violet-le-duc (1876) The Habitations of Man in All Ages, trans. by Benjamin Bucknell. Boston
5. Gotfried Semper (1989) The Four Elements of Architecture. Trans. by H.F. Maligrave and Wolfgang Hermann. The essays on Textiles and on Architectural Style, were written following the Great Exhibition in London to which Semper was a regular and observant visitor, and which festured reconstructions of premodern wattle and daub buildings of the Carribean and of Africa.
6. See for example Amaury Talbot (1912) In the Shadow of the Bush, or Basden (1921) Among the Ibos of Nigeria.
7. This is Nigerian for 'You know of course....'
8. Van der Rohe was a German born architect who is generally considered to have elevated functionalist architecture to an art form through a rigorous attention to constructional detailing, which gave rise to a minimalist architectural aesthetic.
9. Le Corbusier was a Swiss born French architect, who may be regarded as representing the other side of the modern aesthetic. His work of roughly the same period is more lyrical and sculptural than van der Rohe's, and maintains a volumetric complexity that is absent in van der Rohe' buildings. Further, unlike the latter, Le Corbusier sought and obtained work in the developing world, being for example largely responsible for the design of the Northern Indian capital city of Chandigarh. He also proposed urban projects for Algiers, which were not taken up.
10. West Africa, February 1960.
11. See West Africa April 26, 1960 p475
13. See David Aradeon 'Space and House Form: Teaching Cultural Significance to Nigerian Students' in Journal of Architectural Education, v35, Fall 1981. MIT Press, Cambridge MA.
passages | http://quod.lib.umich.edu/p/passages/