Beauty is a fluid concept, one that evolves according to the contexts, eras and perspectives in which it is given shape. Above all, beauty depends on who expresses it and who receives it. But is it completely blind to political issues? This article explores the dynamics at play in the definition of architectural beauty. From Gehry’s exercises in bricolage to prestigious cultural institutions, who defines beauty?

Frank Gehry’s neighbours thought they lived in a peaceful and rather ordinary residential neighbourhood on the coast of California. Then, in 1978 they discovered the home of their newly arrived neighbour, and their lives were turned upside down. Rumour had it that he was an architect. That he wasn’t well known was hardly surprising, judging by the work he’d done on his own house: this architect clearly had very poor taste. To say the least, his house was surprising, if not downright ugly. At first, the neighbours thought it wasn’t finished, that it was a work in progress. Indeed, Gehry had wrapped the little old house in an angular shell made of sheet metal and wood, which the neighbours mistook for boarding. The cheap materials stood in stark contrast to the beautiful roughcast walls of the surrounding houses.