Montage as process of knowledge mobilization in architectural design

Abstract

Drawing on findings from an ethnographic study, the paper at hand provides an example of a pronounced way of working with montage as a means of mobilizing knowledge in the architectural design process. With reference to a specific design project, the paper follows architecture students systematically exploring and structuring the problem’s space of possibilities by applying montage. Highlighting the methodological rigor and logical coherence their procedure involves, the paper elaborates on montage as an effective method and traceable exploratory process. Presenting and discussing this empirical data, the paper aims at showing how montage allows for apprehending a problem in a holistic manner while at the same time facilitating its analysis into separate parts. In this way, montage engenders the mobilization of knowledge, which can be implicated to the case at hand.

Keywords:

• Montage
• architectural design
• knowledge mobilization
• ethnography

Introduction

Cutting across disciplinary boundaries, montage, as an aesthetic procedure, occupies an important place in twentieth century artistic practice. Adorno (1998), in fact, has discussed montage as a crucial aesthetic principle of modern art and the avantgarde – from literature to music, fine arts to theatre, film to photography, cabaret to architecture. An equally broad range of architects, from the Smithsons to Koolhaas, from Rossi to Rowe, from Mies to Archigram, have relied on montage to study, scrutinize and reshape urban space.

Despite the enormous variety of differentiations and the fact that there is no consensus definition of the term (Žmegač 1994), there is an important body of literature that provides us with fruitful generalizations of the specifics and particularities of montage across the individual arts (see also Bürger 1984). Directly related to the field of architectural design, Stierli (2018) summarizes montage’s general characteristics as follows: Montage combines materials (prefabricated elements) from different contexts. Separating materials form their context, displacing them and inserting them into another given context, the latter is broken up and loses its unity and coherence. What appears as a new assembled context is no longer homogeneous as a unit – since with the foreign materials inconsistencies, incompatibilities and contradictions enter into the work. Montage is, hence, characterized by polyvalence and an affinity to fragments of material that do not merge seamlessly into the new context. The rupture and the renunciation of unity and homogeneity form the basic pattern of montage. Characteristic for montage is that the properties of the material that is combined remain unaltered and that the disruption is exposed. It is upon the viewer to synthesize the fragments – yet, without creating a new unity. Without homogenizing, aligning or integrating the composite parts and without blurring or concealing the rupture between them, montage implies a certain autonomy for the elements it relates. At the same time, this dialectical opposition pushes for grasping the assembly of prefabricated parts as a whole provoking the viewer to scrutinize and make sense of the relationship that has been forged.

In this sense, montages, by definition, have an ‘unfinished quality’ – they demand completion by the recipients that apprehend them. While this is true for art pieces in general – Dufrenne (1973), for instance, has argued to understand aesthetic objects as affective forces that impress and intrude the perceiving subject, who takes them up and reworks them – it is particularly true for montage. To produce meaning, montages rely on the active participation of the viewer. In order to operate as generators of meaning, they explicitly call for a process of interpretation. It is on these grounds that scholars insist on understanding montage as both, result and process. While montages constitute fully fleshed-out visual material, they are at the same time constantly in the process of emerging and transforming as they provoke the viewer to apprehend and make sense of them.

Research focus

Many scholars have emphasized montage’s critical potential. Comparable to its capability to affect political interpretation, the paper at hand discusses montage as a process of mobilizing knowledge in architectural design, that is, as a process that renders the explication of implicit knowledge possible. Presenting and analysing ethnographic data, the paper puts a particular focus on the decoding of montage and elaborates on the methodological rigour and logical coherence this interpretative procedure involves.

Methodology and case selection

The data on which the paper draws has been gathered by means of participant observation of a Master’s degree design studio at the Chair of Architectural Design, Rebuilding, and Conservation (Professor Andreas Hild) at the Technical University of Munich. Part of a larger ethnographic study on the teaching of architectural design at six European architecture schools (see Silberberger 2021a), the observations at Hild’s studio have been made during the winter semester 2018–2019 (that is, between October 2018 and February 2019). Within Hild’s teaching studio, I primarily assumed the role of ‘observer-as-participant' (Gold 1958), that is, someone, who despite interacting with other participants, for the most part takes notes quietly (Fox 2001). However, now and then, I became a more active member (Adler and Adler 1994), that is, someone who actively asked teaching staff or students to further explain certain statements they made.

Labelled ‘Bank(h)aus' – a pun playing on the words ‘Bankhaus' (bank building) and ‘Bank aus' (which roughly means ‘the end of the bank’ and refers to the current tendency of banks shutting down more and more of their subsidiaries) – the brief issued by Hild’s studio addressed the conversion of a recently abandoned bank branch located within the centre of Munich. Constructed in the late 1950s as a post office, the empty bank fills part of a city block. It features a distinct base level with greater ceiling heights, natural stone cladding, and windows offset to the inside, with the rest of the building plastered and the windows sitting flush with the façade (Figure 1).

Figure 1. The abandoned bank building. (The image comes from München Wiki https://www.muenchenwiki.de/wiki/Datei:Muefuerstsattlerkronawi092018c90.jpghenwiki.de).

The assignment consisted of finding a new way of using this building while preserving as much of its structure as possible – that is, to reconstruct the building ‘with respect but without awe’ and to ‘preserve the old by retaining it in the new’ (statements by Hild translated by the author). A crucial aspect of the studio was to demand of students to make use of reference buildings for developing their projects. In concrete terms, this meant that students started off with site visits in order to get a feel for the character of the building in question and the atmosphere of the surrounding neighbourhood. In the course of this investigation, students developed ideas for reusing the former bank branch. One team (students worked in teams of two), for instance, decided to convert it into a cinema with restaurant and bar, another went for a multi-brand fashion boutique, yet another for a market hall with restaurants, food and beverage counters, bakery, pastry shops, small retail stores and a cooking school. In line with and in parallel to these ideas, students started to identify suitable buildings as references to support and guide their design process. Such reference buildings did not necessarily have to be used in the same manner as the intended reconstruction. For instance, one team decided to convert the bank into a music school by adding extra storeys. As reference for the extension, they selected the overhanging wall-walk of the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence – which implies to understand such a structure to be capable of making a variety of uses possible. In a first procedural step, students were advised to combine reference and bank building with no transformation applied to them. In a second step, they were directed to analyse and interpret these combinations for developing an effective design.

With regard to data collection, I focused on intermediate and final reviews of student projects. During these (semi-) public events, professors, assistants and students are consistently forced to verbalize their considerations and provide explanations regarding their proposals, which makes reviews (or: crits) ideal-typical instances for tracing design methodologies that otherwise often remain tacit. In addition, I observed a small number of desk crits (that is, informal, one-on-one assessments carried out at students’ desks). Furthermore, I conducted two semi-structured interviews with Hild and his teaching assistants, accompanied by various informal conversations with students. Other data sources included documentary sources on the teaching studio and the assignment (such as lecture notes or PowerPoint presentations delivered to the students). This resulted in 40 hours of direct observation, producing about 65 photographs, 25 sketches and 50 pages of field notes.

While I have provided an analysis of Hild’s approach in comparison to the way of working with references in Adam Caruso’s studio at ETH Zürich in an earlier publication (Silberberger 2021b), the aim for this paper is to use the gathered data for developing a theory of montages as traceable processes of knowledge mobilization in architectural design. I would like to stress that the paper at hand constitutes an experimental interpretation of Hild’s approach, which means that some of the descriptions I put forward in what follows may diverge from Hild’s understanding.

In the following sections, I will present a concentrated, self-contained reconstruction of selected observations. Based on field notes and recollections from memory, this reconstruction merges observations of a variety of students’ projects into a fictitious case. Borrowing from Söderström (2000), this fabrication does not intend to ‘objectively’ reproduce the observed proceedings. Rather, it is to be understood as an attempt at generalizing – as it abstracts from data referring to specific, singular students’ projects – and at the same time at densifying – as it draws on observations that refer to a variety of students’ projects and puts them into a direct relationship within one single, specifically fabricated design project.

In accordance with Angrosino (2007, 81), I would like to stress that such presentation of ethnographic data is not about ‘making things up and disguising them as facts'. Instead, the fictitious case that I constructed is to be viewed as a thick description, that is, as an interpretation of observations and an attempt to comprehend the perspectives of ethnographic subjects in relation to their own world (Geertz 1975). Furthermore, following Banks and Banks (1998), I see the fabricated case as a translation of ethnographic data into a story that hopefully also speaks to the people whose work was observed for the research at hand. Parts of this fabrication have also been used in an earlier publication (Silberberger 2021b).

Findings of case study

Students A and B are sitting at a desk, looking at an image of the abandoned bank building. Reflecting current debates on Airbnb and tourism figures for Munich, they develop the idea of converting the bank into a hotel, probably positioned in the luxury segment. Corresponding to Munich’s efforts at inner-city densification, they decide to extend the bank by adding extra storeys.

On the search for an adequate reference building, A and B browse the Internet for boutique hotels that are the result of a conversion as well as for hotels that have been extended by means of adding further storeys. Eventually, they choose the London-based hotel shown in Figure 2. Like their project, this hotel is located within the inner city limits. Its surroundings seem comparable – both, in terms of the mix of uses and the built density. Moreover, the chosen hotel is the result of a conversion. Constructed in the early 1970s (and hence just about fifteen years younger than the bank), the building had been used as a town hall until recently, as A and B find out. This means the building used to contain primarily office space, in combination with some public use (largely limited to the ground floor, as A and B speculate). What’s more, two storeys had been added to the former town hall in the course of the conversion.

Figure 2. The chosen reference building.

Using image-processing software, A and B combine photos of the abandoned bank building in Munich and the rooftop extension of the luxury hotel in London. As instructed, A and B deliberately refrain from putting any effort into smoothing the edges of the clashing photo material so that the disruption between the combined elements is clearly visible (Figure 3).

Figure 3. Montage of reference and building at hand.

A and B’s photomontages reveal serious sources of conflict. They immediately notice that the simple, rectangular bank building with its completely plain façade, for instance, precludes the expressive, slightly flamboyant rounded corners of the rooftop extension.

‘This is where it gets interesting', their professor tells them in an early intermediate crit. ‘Now you have to unfold the image you created', he instructs them. ‘For this purpose, you harness the depicted sources of conflict to go from how things look to how things work. That is, you explore the underlying principles of the buildings you combined and then you apply the findings of this exploration to further develop their combination'.

Jumping back and forth from overall view to detail, A and B notice that the hotel’s rooftop extension looks somewhat like a crown: clearly distinguishable as a subsequent addition but at the same time not sharply opposed to the structure of the former town hall (Figure 2). A and B realize that the extension is set back, that its building outline takes up the rounded corners of the former town hall, and that there is sort of a separating layer between the extension and the plinth building. On this basis, they conceive the extension as a continuation, albeit distinguishable, of the base building. Furthermore, A and B notice that the extension takes up the honeycombed windows and the window proportion of the plinth building, which makes them see the vertical structure of the extension’s façade as related to the formative elements of the base building’s façade.

A and B then turn towards the construction material used for the hotel’s extension and detect a continuation there as well. Despite the obvious difference between extension (steel and glass) and plinth building (reinforced concrete), the extension relates to the time the town hall was built as it has a late 1960s, early 1970s look and feel.

Next, A and B discern that the extension exhibits greater ceiling heights than the former town hall. They find out that this is due to the fact that it features common areas, a restaurant and a bar, which they then decide to put on top of the bank building, too.

On the basis of their exploration, A and B frame their target as follows: they want to extend the bank by a clearly distinguishable structure that subtly takes up the bank building’s basic formative elements by perpetuating them. They determine that the form of the extension should therefore be unpretentious: a simple box. They decide that it should be set back and that there should be some separating layer between plinth building and extension. They define that their extension will have greater ceiling heights than the bank. As displayed in the montage, they decide that their extension should have floor-to-ceiling windows on the top floor and almost floor-to-ceiling windows on the floor below. They ponder that, to achieve a certain degree of continuity with regard to window proportion and façade structure, they might have to modify the window proportion and/or positioning. Regarding the distinctive depth of the façade proposed by their montage, A and B see two options: either keep it (as a contrast to the bank building) or choose a completely plain façade (to be in line with the bank’s façade). Reassessing their montage, A and B feel that they could stick with the glass and steel structure. Appreciating its lightness, A and B think about trying to make it even more delicate, even finer. They also think about changing its colour. As second option, instead of glass and steel, they consider using the same brick and concrete mix as the bank building. They reason that they should then show the bricks and concrete in the extension while they remain plastered in the plinth building.

In order to analyse the proceedings presented in the vignette above, I draw on ideas developed by planning and design theorist Horst Rittel. According to Rittel (1970), design processes are characterized by an arrangement of three sub-processes: firstly, the understanding of the environment in which the design to be developed is supposed to intervene – which Rittel refers to as ‘context-model'; secondly, the production of a spectrum of solution proposals – which Rittel terms ‘object-model'; and thirdly, the assessment of each solution proposal leading to the selection of the design – which Rittel calls ‘performance-model'.

The context-model represents the process of selecting those aspects of the environment that are considered relevant and immutable (e.g. the surrounding built environment, traffic infrastructure, building law or the budget). Rittel (1970, 23) compares this predefinition of context-variables to ‘composing the story of the design problem at hand' [author’s translation]. The object-model, that is, the process of generating a set of possible solutions, responds to this ‘story’ as the design-variables (e.g. the form, the building line or building material) and their possible values are defined relative to the understanding of the problem. The object-model constitutes the set of all viable combinations of values of the different design-variables. The performance-model, eventually, represents the process of assessing the solution proposals that have been produced within the object-model according to selected performance-variables (e.g. integration into the existing built environment, functionality of the building operation, energy or cost efficiency). The selected design, so to speak, constitutes an outcome of the ‘computation’ represented by the performance model.

In order to tackle the object model, the creation of the variety of possible solution proposals, Rittel proposes a tool called the ‘morphological box' (Rittel 1970) or ‘Zwicky box' respectively (Zwicky 1948). Basically, a two-dimensional matrix, the morphological box lists design-variables (or parameters) and their possible values (or possible actions). Solution proposals are then generated by mathematically combining the selected design-variables and their possible values (obviously, from a design perspective, quite a few combinations are misguided and can be rejected).

As Heger (2013) shows, architects at large have never picked up on Rittel’s construct of ideas as modes of operation. It is evident that most designers would clearly refrain from understanding their practice as sort of a ‘programmatic process of generating possible solutions as viable combinations of values of design-variables’. Nevertheless, viewed as a concept, Rittel’s description and in particular the morphological box raises awareness for the spectrum of solution possibilities – which in turn constitutes an aspect that design practitioners constantly consider. In fact, many advanced design methodologies can be described as finding ways for introducing stringent constraints that facilitate a plausible structuring of a problem’s solution space (Eberle and Aicher 2018; Caruso and Silberberger 2021).

Discussion of findings

If we recap the proceedings of our fictitious students, we can identify six procedural steps: Firstly, analysing the conditions of the given problem and developing an idea for reusing the bank building; secondly, searching for and selecting a promising reference building; thirdly, creating a set of montages that combine the reference and the existing building; fourthly, identifying the sources of conflict to which these montages point to; fifthly, utilizing these sources of conflict for an exploration of the underlying principles that define the buildings combined; and sixthly, applying the found underlying principles to successively reduce the number of possible solution proposals.

Referring to the terminology suggested by Rittel, this conduct can be described as follows: On the basis of their site visits and explorations of the surrounding neighbourhood, our fictitious students developed the idea of converting the bank into a (boutique) hotel and began searching for a suitable reference, that is, a building that performs well within a comparable set of context-variables. (Although this is the case with our fictitious example, Hild insists that reference buildings do not necessarily have to be used in the same manner as the intended reconstruction.) Then, by means of montage, the students separate the vertical extension of their chosen reference building from its original context-model and insert it into the bank’s context-model. This means, they import a fully fleshed-out design of a vertical extension, that is, a fully determined combination of fully formulated design-variables or a fully determined object-model respectively.

Apparently, in the case of conversions, the given context-model and its variables are highly constrained from the outset as key parameters (such as the supporting structure or the location of staircases) have to be considered immutable. Furthermore, if the building’s character is to be considered, design parameters such as the façade structure become further context-variables. Moreover, if a reference building is introduced in the way Hild’s studio brief proposed, that is, by means of montage which leaves the reference untouched, this displacement, by necessity, creates a rupture as design parameters and context-variables of the two combined buildings clash. It is exactly this clash that provokes fruitful sources of conflict.

As the edges of the colliding digital photo material remain untreated (they are, e.g. explicitly not to be blurred), the disruption between elements becomes visible and entry points for a focused examination of the combined buildings are exposed. Referring to Ades (1976, 8), the students’ montage has ‘the value of a test' while it is simultaneously ‘prophetic of the direction (…) to take'. It serves as sort of rapid test for the overall applicability of the selected reference while at the same time providing cues for tackling a variety of design issues, such as the connection between the extension and the existing building, the choice of building materials or the façade structure.

Referring to Gell (1998), as well as actor-network theory scholars such as Callon (2007), Latour (2005) or Yaneva (2005), it can be argued that the students’ montage possesses ‘material agency' as it entangles the viewers’ attention. The deliberate juxtaposition of disparate parts points to cues for exploring the constitutive traits of their structure. The visible rupture opens up a path to a deeper understanding of both, the involved elements as well as their combination. It steers the students’ attention to various sources of conflict provoking them to thoroughly study why and how these conflicts arise. Starting off with an examination of visual properties, the students subsequently reach into the level of principles of formation. As a materialized interim result, their montage raises awareness for the underlying principles that gave rise to and define the two buildings that they brought together. Performing as a generator of practical knowledge, their montage leads the students to identify a number of such underlying principles. Successively applied, this knowledge effectively informs their further design process as it allows them to systematically and traceably structure their problem’s space of possibilities.

Some of these identified underlying principles directly relate to single, isolated design-variables: the ‘shift in building material as continuation’-principle, for instance, calls for using construction material that reflects the look and feel of the bank’s date of origin thereby defining the set of possible values for the design-variable ‘building material’ as ‘bricks and concrete’ and ‘glass and steel’. Other underlying principles operate on the level of interconnected design-variables. For instance, the decision to perpetuate the bank’s façade involves the interplay of a variety of design-variables such as the window proportion, the ratio of window area to façade, the façade’s depth and the material used.

Drawing again on Rittel’s terminology, the way the students combine the two buildings like ‘objets trouvés’ (or ‘found buildings’) in their montage can be understood as the composition of an ad-hoc, full-fledged object-model, that is, as a distinct, definite combination of the extended set of values deposited in the morphological box. Some values of this combined object-model can be directly adopted while others need to be adapted according to the identified underlying principles. Hence, the way the students interact with the montage constitutes a method of radically differentiating the object-model followed by a refinement that further structures the problem’s possibility space. The precondition for this way of working with montages is a proximity of context-models.

If we apply the concept of the morphological box to the proceedings depicted in the vignette, we can state that the students’ method of montage provides stringent instructions for limiting the object-model. Table 1 shows a morphological box depicting the correction of possible values with regard to key design-variables resulting from progressively applying the identified underlying principles. In terms of possible solutions, that is, possible value combinations for the involved design-variables, the morphological box shows that the students’ operations reduced the object-model from 2,592 possible combinations (the product of the numbers of alternative values) to four.

Table 1. Possible approaches regarding the conversion/extension discussed in the vignette with crossed out values resulting from the inscription of the identified underlying principles.

Design-variables	Alternative values (possible actions)				#
Form	Box	Blob		Tent	3 1
Building outline	Overhanging	Flush		Offset towards inside	3 1
Separating layer	Yes		No		2 1
Building material	Wood	Bricks and concrete	Light metal	Steel and glass	4 2
Ceiling height	As in plinth building		Higher		2 1
Depth of façade	Plane	Moderate		Distinctive	3 2
Window proportion	Same as in plinth		Different from plinth		2 1
Window area / façade	Same as in plinth	Less		More	3 1

Of course, well-versed architects would intuitively rule out numerous of the original 2,592 possible combinations straight away. Nevertheless, the students’ systematic limitation of the object-model has a considerable effect on the manageability of the problem (as the remaining four possible solutions can indeed be thoroughly simulated and assessed by building a few architectural models). Moreover, instead of producing an oversimplification, the students’ way of working with montage effectively addresses the complexity of the problem. As the second half of the vignette illustrates, the severe reduction of possible solutions is the result of a rational, traceable analysis. While the actual act of assembling the selected photo material relies mainly on personal, tacit knowledge, the selection of the elements to be combined as well as the exploration of the cues pushed forward by the montage, mobilizes explicit knowledge. The observed conduct uses montage not just as mere inspiration, but comprises a dimension of rational decision making as findings of the montage’s interpretation are methodically inscribed into the further development of the design project.

The students’ montage, by bringing together two rather different buildings and exposing their disjunction, gives an idea of their likeliness on the level of underlying principles. Provoking its viewers to see the combined elements as a ‘fraternity of metaphors' (Rancière 2009, 130), the montage allows for adopting isolated properties suggested by the reference and simultaneously pushes for a deeper understanding of the problem. This is where the performative power of montage lies. On the one hand, it affords an analysis into separate parts, while on the other hand, it presses hard for the apprehension and appraisal of the problem and its solution space as a whole. While the act of feeding the montage and its interpretation into a morphological box means a dissection into isolated design parameters, the montage retains the capability to act as a whole raising awareness for design issues, which are the result of an interplay of a variety of design parameters.

Architecture is more than the sum of its parts as a building’s properties can never be reduced to an aggregation of the properties of its components (Zumthor 2006; Eberle and Aicher 2018). This understanding can be underpinned by drawing on assemblage theory, which introduces a differentiation between components’ properties and capacities (Deleuze and Guattari 1987; DeLanda 2006). Properties constitute stable, independent qualities of the component (such as the specific weight of a certain type of wood). Capacities, in turn, are relational and dynamic. They are dependent on the component’s properties, yet, cannot be reduced to the latter, because they ‘involve reference to the properties of other interacting entities' (DeLanda 2006, 11). Most of the time, capacities are just potential – they are only exercised if components with matching capacities interact. In this way, the intertwinement of components may produce qualities, which cannot be predicted on the basis of an examination of those component parts in isolation (such as the combination of a rather flamboyant brownish steel and glass construction with a rather mundane, plastered brick and concrete building).

What makes montage such a promising tool for tackling building tasks in their complexity is the capability to provoke being taken apart for an investigation of its components’ properties – while at the same time being apprehended as a whole for an exploration of those components’ interactions and the potential actualizations of their capacities. The students’ procedure, in particular their way of interpreting and utilizing the cues pushed forward by their montage, constitutes a powerful method in that respect. As an objective and traceable operation, it gives their design process, and ultimately their project, a high degree of credibility.

Conclusion

Evidently, the conduct observed and discussed primarily constitutes a teaching method. Nevertheless, I propose to see it as a working method in a general sense – experienced architects, however, may merge the described sequence of procedural steps into one single operation. Hence, generally speaking, the described process involves: the classification of the problem at hand on the basis of a preliminary context-model; the search for potential reference buildings; the displacement and insertion of the reference by means of montage; the interpretation of this composition as a synthesis as well as its analysis into separate parts; the identification of a set of underlying principles (formative traits); and the application of these principles in order to progressively differentiate the design project.

Opposed to the oft-repeated claim that tasks in architecture and urban design are unique and extremely specific (since no site and no context exactly equals another), the approach discussed in this paper is based on the assumption that we can compare building problems and hence, embed a given building task within a landscape of related problems and draw on solutions as ready-made findings to be adapted to the case at hand.

Referring to Flyvbjerg (2006), the observed proceedings can be framed as case-study research. From an epistemological perspective, a (successful) building can be understood as an accumulation of locally bound, materially inscribed knowledge. The fact that such knowledge is seldomly ‘formally generalized' does not mean ‘that it cannot enter into the collective process of knowledge accumulation' (Flyvbjerg 2006, 227). Quite the opposite: The discussed method of montage can be seen as a way of mobilizing such knowledge and to harness its capacity for applying it to the case at hand. Although the described conduct does not exclude universal knowledge (e.g. regarding architectural history), it primarily relies on acquiring case knowledge, which ‘grows out of intimate familiarity with practice in contextualized settings' (Flyvbjerg, Landman, and Schram 2012, 2). It is this practical case knowledge – here: the knowledge of the underlying principles (and their transferability) of a particular (successful) building – that qualified the students to act rationally and in a prudent fashion. Their way of working with montage empowered them to derive values in a traceable, comprehensible manner. Hence, despite the fact that these values were mainly developed ‘in action’ – and neither derived from (pre-existing) theory nor transformed into general, theoretical knowledge – the resulting design can be retraced and (many of) the decisions involved can be verified.

At the same time, the presented method provides a certain freedom with respect to the actual application of the identified underlying principles. Here, the deduced constraints form a support network, which engenders the manageability of the problem thereby empowering the students to express their personal value systems. Striking a balance between rigour and freedom (Bill 1949), the discussed way of working with montage puts subjective judgements on a sound footing. In this way, it facilitates a thorough review and enhances the quality of decision making.

Often enough, montage is described in terms of a primarily intuitive procedure. In contrast, the paper at hand has shown that such an understanding (which emphasizes only the inspirational qualities of montage that are registered intuitively) is manifestly incomplete. Very much like Rittel (1970) intended it (see also Reuter 2021), the depicted method of montage combines structured conduct, rational choice and explicit knowledge to create a set of constraints that allows subjective, personal accents to unfold. In this manner, making serious efforts towards traceability and verifiability, the depicted way of working with montages, meaningfully combines rationality and objectivity with subjective, intuitive judgements of beauty.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.

Correction Statement

This article has been corrected with minor changes (incorrect formatting in Table 1). These changes do not impact the academic content of the article.

Additional information

Funding

This work was supported by the Swiss National Science Foundation [grant number 100013_172843].

Notes on contributors

Jan Silberberger

Jan Silberberger is a senior assistant at the Institute for the History and Theory of Architecture (GTA) at ETH Zürich. He has studied Architecture at the University of Stuttgart (1996–1998) and Visual Communication and Fine Arts at Hochschule für bildende Künste Hamburg (1998–2005). In his PhD studies (2008–2011, ETH Zürich and University of Fribourg), he analyzed decision-making and knowledge creation within jury boards of architectural competitions. Dr Silberberger’s current research focuses on design methodologies.