In the annals of architectural education, a studio at Yale in the winter of 1969 stands out for its unconventional approach. Thirteen graduate students, guided by the architect couple Denise Scott Brown and Robert Venturi, embarked on a semester-long exploration into the urban design of Las Vegas. This wasn’t a study of classical facades or historical monuments, but a deep dive into the neon-soaked, billboard-laden landscape of the Las Vegas Strip. Their methods were equally unorthodox: sketching hotel fronts, measuring light levels at night, and even infiltrating a casino opening in borrowed formal wear.
The culmination of this study was an eleven-hour marathon of presentations at Yale’s Art and Architecture Building. A jury of experts, including architectural historian Vincent Scully and writer Tom Wolfe – whose 1964 essay “Las Vegas (What?) Las Vegas (Can’t Hear You! Too Noisy) Las Vegas!!!!” had inspired Scott Brown and Venturi – gathered to assess the students’ findings. The project raised eyebrows within the traditional architectural academy, but as Venturi noted in a thank-you letter to the jurors, their aim was simply to look at Las Vegas in a “dead-pan way which is also a poetic way.”
This groundbreaking studio laid the foundation for “Learning from Las Vegas,” a book published in 1972 by M.I.T. Press, credited to Scott Brown, Venturi, and Steven Izenour. Fifty years later, this book remains a cornerstone of twentieth-century American urban theory, alongside works like Jane Jacobs’s “The Death and Life of Great American Cities” and Rem Koolhaas’s “Delirious New York.” Yet, it has consistently faced a critical undertone questioning whether Las Vegas, of all places, could be a legitimate subject for serious architectural inquiry.
The Yale Studio and the Vegas Strip: Genesis of an Idea
The genesis of “Learning from Las Vegas” can be traced directly back to that audacious Yale studio. Scott Brown and Venturi pushed their students to look beyond the conventional architectural paradigms of the time and to engage with the contemporary urban landscape in its rawest forms. Las Vegas, with its sprawling strip, flamboyant signage, and car-centric design, became their laboratory.
Their approach was a deliberate departure from the prevailing architectural discourse, which often dismissed places like Las Vegas as chaotic and aesthetically bankrupt. Critics like Peter Blake, in his 1964 book “God’s Own Junkyard,” lamented the postwar commercial strip as a sign of “the decline, fall and subsequent disintegration of urban civilization.” Theodor Adorno echoed this sentiment, viewing the neon lights of cities as “comets presaging the natural disaster of society.”
Robert Venturi standing on the Las Vegas Strip in 1966, embodying the spirit of detached observation that characterized the “Learning from Las Vegas” study.
Scott Brown and Venturi, however, saw potential for learning in this seemingly chaotic environment. They challenged the architectural establishment to reconsider its aesthetic biases and to find value in the “ugly and ordinary.” Their trip to Las Vegas in November 1966, predating their marriage, was a pivotal moment. As Scott Brown described, they were “jolted clear out of our aesthetic skins,” experiencing a mix of attraction and repulsion that sparked intellectual curiosity.
This “jolt” was not just a personal reaction; it was the realization that Las Vegas offered fertile ground for exploring the evolving American city. It presented an opportunity to build upon Venturi’s earlier work, “Complexity and Contradiction in Architecture,” which had already questioned the reductive tendencies of modern architecture. The question “Is not Main Street almost all right?” from Venturi’s earlier book foreshadowed their Vegas exploration, suggesting a willingness to find merit in vernacular and commercial landscapes.
Challenging Architectural Norms: “Learning from Las Vegas” Book
The 1968 Architectural Forum essay, “A Significance for A&P Parking Lots, or Learning from Las Vegas,” co-authored by Scott Brown and Venturi, served as a precursor to both the Yale studio and the subsequent book. This essay, and the book that followed, were not intended as an endorsement of Las Vegas’s urban model. Instead, they aimed to dissect and understand the forces shaping the contemporary city, using Las Vegas as a particularly potent case study.
As Scott Brown later clarified, “Learning from Las Vegas” was less about the city itself and more about “the broader symbolism of architectural form.” The book delved into how car-centric urbanism was reshaping our experience of space, speed, and communication through signs. The fundamental question they posed – “Is the sign the building or is the building the sign?” – highlighted the shifting relationship between architecture and symbolism in the modern landscape.
The book’s contrarian stance ignited debate within architectural circles. While some architects were “infuriated,” as Paul Goldberger noted in the Times, students and younger critics were fascinated. “Learning from Las Vegas” became a touchstone for a new generation of architects who were questioning the dogmas of modernism and seeking inspiration from unexpected places. Its accessible style also resonated with a wider audience, helping to frame the rapidly changing American urban environment in a new and engaging light. The book’s initial print run quickly sold out, signaling its immediate impact and lasting relevance.
Ducks and Decorated Sheds: Key Concepts
“Learning from Las Vegas” introduced several key concepts that have become integral to architectural and urban design discourse. Among the most influential is the distinction between “ducks” and “decorated sheds.” This typology offered a framework for understanding the symbolic communication of buildings.
A “duck,” in Venturi and Scott Brown’s terminology, is a building whose form embodies its function. It is a symbol, like a restaurant shaped like a giant hot dog. In contrast, a “decorated shed” is a more conventional structure that relies on signage and ornamentation to convey its purpose. Think of a typical roadside diner – a simple rectangular building made distinctive by its neon sign and roadside advertising.
The authors argued that many late-modern buildings had become “ducks” in a different sense. Their minimalist forms, devoid of overt symbolism, were essentially advertising their adherence to a particular architectural style – the International Style “tamale,” as the original article humorously puts it. Scott Brown and Venturi expressed a preference for the “decorated shed,” appreciating the layered communication and “high-low frisson” that came from combining straightforward architecture with bold, often ironic, signage and ornament. This preference reflected their broader embrace of complexity and contradiction over the purist ideals of modernism.
Enduring Legacy and Relevance
The ideas presented in “Learning from Las Vegas” continue to resonate deeply within architecture and urban studies. The book’s call for a more inclusive and less judgmental approach to the built environment remains profoundly relevant in today’s rapidly evolving urban landscapes. Its emphasis on understanding cities “as they are” rather than imposing utopian visions is a crucial lesson for urban planners and architects alike.
The book’s influence extends beyond academic circles. It has shaped the way we perceive and analyze commercial strips, suburban sprawl, and the role of signage in urban communication. By legitimizing the study of vernacular architecture and challenging the aesthetic hierarchies of modernism, “Learning from Las Vegas” opened up new avenues for architectural inquiry and design thinking.
In conclusion, “Learning From Vegas” is not just a book about a city; it is a book about a way of seeing. It advocates for a “curious and open-minded anti-utopianism,” urging us to learn from the existing landscape, even its seemingly chaotic and unrefined aspects. This approach, as relevant today as it was fifty years ago, encourages a more nuanced and democratic understanding of urbanism, reminding us that valuable lessons can be learned from even the most unexpected places. The enduring legacy of “Learning from Las Vegas” lies in its powerful message: to truly understand and shape our cities, we must first learn to see them with open eyes and minds.
