The death of the architectural critic is a recent phenomenon. It happened slowly, eviscerating architectural critique along with the critic. ‘Architectural Critique’ as used here refers to the short to medium format piece of writing (between 200-2000 words) produced by those with architectural understanding on certain buildings/concepts/ideologies that remained accessible by the public. At some point architectural discourse was in the public realm, easily understood by factory workers, doctors, or shopkeepers alike. The architectural critic contributed to that understanding by speaking not only to the architect in their pieces, but to everyone. The last 50 years has seen that understanding disappear entirely. We are currently living in the gap left behind by the decimation of architectural critique, in between research and superficiality. It is this transition away from architectural critique that has taken from architectural discourse something indispensable, something only found in a time when the architectural critic was prevalent in society. 

     In the 20th century, and very early 21st century, critics (who would also call themselves writers, architects, and designers) such as Lewis Mumford, Michael Sorkin, Kenneth Frampton, Adolf Loos, Jane Jacobs, Colin Rowe, etc., each wrote with distinct voices, cultivating the architectural zeitgeist. The medium by which they added their voices to the discourse was a natural choice at the time, to write was to have power. Each of them wrote with an opinion, a particular viewpoint on a particular topic that was informed by their own lived experiences and vast knowledge of the discipline. They would present critiques on buildings, architectural movements, concepts, and ideas that situated the subject within their own critique. This obviously subjective approach to writing has been dismissed in recent days. Michael Sorkin’s 250 Things an Architect Should Know (1) is an example of a clearly personal yet informative piece that both satirizes and speaks to architects.

“164.    Geography.

165.    The Law of the Andes.

166.    Cappadocia first-hand.

167.    The importance of the Amazon.

168.    How to patch leaks.

169.    What makes you happy.

170.    The components of a comfortable environment for sleep.

171.    The view from the Acropolis.

172.    The way to Santa Fe.

173.    The Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.

174.    Where to eat in Brooklyn.” (Michael Sorkin 164-174)

Not strictly ‘architectural criticism’ as normally understood, this piece still participates in the discourse, both criticizing the contemporary architect and calling attention to them. Lewis Mumford’s The Lesson of The Master (2) in the New Yorker takes as its focus the Seagram Building on Park Avenue in New York City. Mumford carefully praises the building, using form and spatial context as lenses by which to exemplify its brilliance, willingly omitting other aspects as unnecessary to his argument. 

“Out of this stalled, rush-hour clutter of new structures, brightly sordid, meretriciously up-to-date, the Seagram building has emerged like a Rolls-Royce [...] To an even greater degree than its elegant neighbor, Lever House, 375 has ambiance.” (Mumford 3).

While doing so, Mumford takes the opportunity to criticize Jane Jacob’s less than stellar review of the same building. Jacobs most certainly sees this criticism and response in kind, recognizing the Seagram building’s formal beauty but calling attention to its social missteps. Jacobs has as her focus a different angle within the same discussion, writing in Fortune, her essay Downtown is for People (3) would say;

“The handsome, glittering stretch of newly rebuilt Park Avenue in New York is an illustration of this stubborn point. [...] The Seagram tower and Lever House with their plazas, far from being disparaged, would then harvest their full value of glory and individuality; they would have a foil.” (Jacobs, Downtown is for People). 

Jacobs calls attention to the spacious plazas that exist at both Seagram and Lever House, musing that they would be better served as retail or otherwise programmed  to serve the people of the city. Mumford and Jacobs viewed the same building differently, highlighting both its positives and negatives respectively. Both wrote knowing the other would see and respond to their critiques, each having written respectively in popular magazines. This conversation was therefore held in the public realm, accessible to anyone who could make their way to the local newsstand. These critics each had biases and they each made omissions, leaving certain things out on purpose, understanding that not everything needs to be considered in every piece of writing. And yet, their pieces are written with the betterment of the city in mind, through whatever lens they decide to look through in that instance. What we learn about buildings and the discipline as a whole from these architectural critics adds to the discourse in necessary ways. The freedom these critics had to write and know that their additions to the discourse would be valued based on their own conceptual brilliance and validity is a freedom the contemporary architect no longer has. And even if that freedom was felt, there is no longer a platform of willing listeners for an architect to discuss a building, the city, or the world around them any longer. 

     Architects and those perpetuating the architectural pedagogy in recent years have criticized architectural writing such as those explained above on the basis of lacking analytical rigor. Looking at one aspect of a building forgoes all other contexts the building exists within, and therefore does not paint an overall accurate picture of the critique. The contemporary architect and academic would instead insist that one takes a look at a building from every angle and in doing so require a lengthy and considered analysis. In order to address this perceived lack of analytical rigor architecture has instead veered towards research as the answer. This is of course a more complete and maybe even a more responsible approach to architectural discourse and yet one loses the simplicity of taking a building at its face value. The inability to simply write about architecture anymore is in part a response to the complexification of architecture. The complexification of architecture is in part a response to the general complexification of the world around us. Today’s world is finding itself becoming increasingly more complex, socially, politically, economically, etc. The architect then finds itself boxed in, forced to address everything, or risk being crucified for a perceived addressing of nothing. Society has never been more polarized against itself, the law has never been more questioned, and architecture has not been insulated against these problems. Our response as architects has been to complexify ourselves to match the world. What we now have is a proliferation of architectural research that approaches the discipline as one would approach the discovery of nuclear fission. 

     These ‘analyses’ step away from simple ‘critiques’ in more ways than one, most notably in accessibility. The mid-century critic was able to post in the New Yorker, hold a column in The New York Times, and generally speak to the public knowing that the public would be able to meaningfully engage. Today’s discourse is so far removed from common vernacular that the architect has as a result lost significant relevancy. One no longer has an answer for what the architect does, instead deferring to the engineer or contractor as the more accessible profession. Architecture as a discipline is currently in an identity crisis, unable to reach the general masses, turning instead inward and further receding within itself. The most outwardly facing architectural mediums find themselves in the form of podcasts and meme pages, often misrepresenting our discipline to the public, creating further confusion. Instagram pages such as ‘dank.lloyd.wright’ (4) existed relatively popularly, although still remaining accessible only by those in the profession, worse so, infantilizing our discipline to the masses. Podcasts such as ‘The Second Studio’ (5) give longer format auditory criticism a chance to survive, yet still remain unreachable by the general public without significant context.

     There are very few shorter forms of print media within architectural critique left, ‘The New York Review of Architecture’ (6) (NYRA) is currently holding back the tide. Other architectural print media exist although they heavily lean towards the research side of the fence. NYRA is one of the last newspapers, let alone print media full stop, that consistently comes out with issues discussing architecture, art, and New York City en masse. The quality of said articles are consistent with a publication that can establish itself as significant while also playing the line between satirical, self referential, and critical all at once (that is to say, the articles are written to a high caliber). As a society we seem to have progressed past writing and changed mediums entirely. This progression would be better understood as a regression. When one writes, they are forced to think through their thoughts and arguments, making them more coherent, well intentioned, and better received. NYRA exists as a testament to that idea, consistently coming out with issues that force readers to face interesting and intellectual thought processes.

     There is a gap in the current zeitgeist of the discipline, architectural writing and critique that exists in between the research paper and the singular meme. Short to medium form print media that adds to the discourse in meaningful ways, media that has a viewpoint. NYRA exists within that gap, in essence alone. Podcasts, meme pages, and youtube videos also exist adjacent, although following the trend society has set forth in trying to cripple literacy. We have lost the short form and pointed architectural writing that didn’t take itself too seriously and yet still had something to say. Without it the discipline will slow down to a stagnant stasis of development, always raising the bar for forward movement until it is unachievable. Or…the discipline will fall so far from general relevancy in society that we will simply cease to exist, designating ourselves as engineers and giving up whatever dignity we still hold.

(1): Sorkin, Michael. Two Hundred and Fifty Things an Architect Should Know. New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 2021.

(2): Mumford, Lewis. "The Sky Line: The Lesson of the Master." The New Yorker, September 13, 1958.

(3): Jacobs, Jane. "Downtown is for People." Fortune, April 1958.

(4): Dank Lloyd Wright (@dank.lloyd.wright). Instagram. Accessed September 8, 2026. https://www.instagram.com/dank.lloyd.wright/.

(5): Lee, David, and Marina Bourderonnet, hosts. The Second Studio. Podcast. Accessed September 8, 2026. https://www.secondstudiopod.com.

(6): New York Review of Architecture. New York: NYRA, 2019–. https://nyra.nyc.