African Threads in the American Fabric
An Interview with Richard Dozier
Blueprints Fall 2007
Volume XXV, No. 4
Richard K. Dozier, Ph.D., is an architect and architectural historian who has studied African-American buildings and material culture. He has taught at several schools, including Florida A&M University, and was recently appointed head of the Department of Architecture and Construction Science, associate dean of the College of Engineering, Architecture and Physical Sciences, and Robert R. Taylor Professor of Architecture at Tuskegee University.
Martin Moeller: In what ways have vernacular African building traditions influenced American architecture?
Richard Dozier: Broadly speaking, the major contributions were primarily [in the areas of] response to climate and use of materials. Slaves coming to the New World had a familiarity with natural materials like sun-dried brick and they had exceptional skills at carving wood, making plaster molds, working iron—and these techniques soon had an impact on how everyone was building.
Some basic structural forms may be linked to Africa. A great example is the Africa [or African] House down in Natchitoches, Louisiana, which has a huge hip roof and broad overhang. It looks strange at first, but then you realize that the building did not have a deep foundation. The overhangs protected the base of the building from water, while also allowing a second story up within the roof, which had slats for windows so that the air would circulate. The form of the building is derived from its construction methods and the weather conditions.
Moeller: There are many diverse building traditions in different parts of Africa. To what extent are there similar variations in African-American architecture?
Dozier: We wouldn’t just refer to “European architecture” as a single thing, would we? We understand that it reflects many very different periods and cultures. Africa, of course, is the same way.
Many of the differences in African-American architecture are regional variations, based to some extent on how much of the original African culture was retained. One example of strong retention is the Gullah/Geechee culture in South Carolina. The vernacular of the area followed early building traditions for a remarkably long time. Charleston also had a high degree of retention of the original culture. Even today, there’s an African- American blacksmith there named Peter Simmons who is carrying on [family craft] traditions that date back generations.
Moeller: What were some of the earliest examples of buildings created specifically by and for African Americans?
Dozier: You know, most people would probably immediately think of buildings in the South, but there are a considerable number in the North. For example, there is the African Meetinghouse in Boston, constructed in 1806 entirely with black labor, which was the oldest known extant African-American church building in the U.S. Also, it’s been discovered that a private house on Nantucket, which used to have a flourishing African-American community, is even older, dating back to the late 18th century. A good Southern example is St. Andrew’s Church in Prairieville, Alabama, [which was built] in 1853. We actually know the names of the specific slaves who built it. It was one of many churches thought to have been based on designs by the architect Richard Upjohn. One interesting aspect of this church was the stain used on the interior wood finishes—it was made from tobacco juice.
Moeller: How did African-American architecture develop after the Civil War, as former slaves adapted to freedom?
Dozier: The story of Robert R. Taylor is interesting. His father was a free person of color originally from Wilmington, North Carolina. Wilmington was an important center for African-American artisans and builders, and after he gained his freedom, Taylor’s father had developed a ship building and housebuilding business and became pretty successful. And then, in 1892, Robert went on to become the first known African American to finish architecture school—he graduated from MIT.
Building the institute itself was actually a major project. It was a kind of self-help program. But there was an interesting anomaly regarding Tuskegee’s architecture. Some people are said to have asked Booker T. Washington, “Why do your buildings have big columns, just like the plantation houses?” They could not understand why the school was adopting the architectural language of the culture that was responsible for slavery. But Booker T. perhaps responded that he was making the point that African-Americans could do whatever anyone else could. He did not want to deviate from the classical portico, because it was a symbol of quality building.
Booker T. also said, “We teach everything we do, and do everything we teach.” It summed up the school’s approach.
Moeller: To what extent have African-inspired elements and motifs been incorporated into mainstream design and building practices?
Dozier: Now that we have really begun to understand African art and architecture more, I think we all realize that African art strongly influenced a lot of modern architecture in general. Think about Adolf Loos’s famous statement that “ornament is crime.” Loos just wanted to strip away whatever wasn’t really needed for the architecture. Well, in Africa there is no such thing as art for art’s sake. Art is closely connected to use. So really it’s the same idea.
There was a strong connection to modern fine art, too. Think of Picasso’s painting “The Young Women of Avignon,” in which he actually uses African faces.
Moeller: Do you believe that there exists today an identifiable, distinctly African-American approach to architecture?
Dozier: There are several museums going up around the country today that are said to use African-inspired form. One wonders, is it just an appliqué, or is it really something deeper? One person said that African-American architecture should “do rather than say.” In other words, an
African-American museum should function differently. People should walk out stimulated and inspired, with a firm idea about both Africa and architecture.
I think much of the success of the building [lies in the fact] that it seems to draw on a fundamental thing about African culture. In African building traditions, everything has meaning—doors, passages, everything. Much of the meaning is related to ideas about what is sacred. For instance, traditional Africans believe that there are three states of being—the living, the unborn, and the dead. In the ground are the ancestors, and every so often, an African might open a bottle of some kind and pour a libation into the ground. It’s a little sip for the ancestors. And since the ancestors are in the ground, no one owns the ground. When someone dies, you don’t tear down their house—it simply recycles back into the earth.
These are very different attitudes, of course, from Western attitudes. But I think that the key element to bringing an African character into a modern building is just to understand this idea of meaning. Today there is a broader appreciation for African art and architecture beyond the primitive. Finally, historians and others have started to build a real theory of African architecture as much more than kente cloth and carved masks. •
