The human body once provided the fundamental measurements by which to gauge human creations – but the metric system offers ‘mere number without concrete being’. A synthesis is needed.

Measure: mens (L – mind), mensurare = measuring/measure

Metre: metron (Gk), metrum (L – measuring rod), mètre (Fr) = metre

Irony: eironeia (Gk – simulated ignorance), eiron – dissembler and simulator of power = irony

No civilization has existed without measures, and each has described measures in a manner specific to its needs. To exist at all, measures must be practical and useful, and most have their origins in everyday experience. At some stage in the development of a civilized society measures will be refined, standardized and regulated and represented physically. To endure and be accepted by hundreds, thousands, even millions of people – across great civilizations and around the globe – measures must reflect and extend the authority of leaders. Measure is therefore a statement and record of the changing balance of power and independence. It is an expression of culture.

Well, I wasn't putting down the incredible success of architectural education at attracting students (arq 5/2, p 198). Not at all. What amused me about Duany's rightist discriminations (arq 5/2, pp 105–106) is their humour and empirical accuracy. A rare ingredient in so much architectural criticism and discussion. Does the left make jokes that make the right laugh? That seems a rather last-century issue.

Knight and Stiny's paper ‘Classical and non-classical computation’ (arq 5/4, pp 355–372) is a most valuable review of recent work in shape computation but also raises a number of concepts of value in architectural education. One of the problems faced by a ‘learner designer’ is the development of an effective ‘design process’. The ways in which a designer represents form in order to deal with it during design are not necessarily apparent in the final design, or in the resulting building: it is in design development that these representations and operations become explicit and the processes of composition become transparent. Since architectural computing makes explicit the structuring and ordering logic inherent in formal models and makes transparent the operations upon objects which result in designs, the computer provides a unique environment in which to explore the principles of design.

It is refreshing to see yet another take on shape grammars and their representations from Knight and Stiny (arq 5/4, pp 355–372), in particular, the distinction made between process and representation, thus facilitating further categorization of a variety of generative design paradigms. The term ‘shape grammar’ as used here refers to very specific representations of shape and computational processes and is often misused. A brief web search turns up many references to shape grammars. Some are unrelated to the work described here; others reference the shape grammarians but describe paradigms which are either not grammars or utilize different representations of shape.

The nature of architectural design in the early twenty-first century is considered through a comparison between the author's recent design for a university hostel and earlier examples of the genre.

This project was designed by a Lecturer in Architecture at Cambridge for one of its Colleges. It is occupied by undergraduates, some of them architecture students, and during its construction it was used as a teaching case study. The design is somewhat ‘didactic’ in nature, attempting to be quite explicit in its thematic and formal procedures; stylistically, it can be seen as an examination of the possibilities inherent in a late modernist tradition. For this reason, and because of its privileged site and budget, it offers an opportunity for some reflections on architectural composition at the beginning of the twenty-first century, in relation to earlier traditions of formal manipulation.

It is good to see innovations in housing design being applied to the private sector; the ultimate test of any new idea is that someone should want to invest in it. All too often in the past any experimentation in housing design was mainly confined to the public sector. Lack of ‘market testing’ was one of the main reasons why brave experiments sometimes went horribly wrong. All through those years of experimentation, between say 1955 and 1975, with the exception of Eric Lyons' Span housing, architects found fertile ground in public sector – local authority – commissions. It is only now, with loads of government encouragement, that major developers are beginning to sponsor new ideas in design, in higher density, ‘joined up’ housing.

Terry Knight and George Stiny's paper on classical and non-classical computation (arq 5/4, pp 355–372) reminds us that shape grammars have been around for 25 years. Both Knight and Stiny are to be congratulated on developing and sustaining the research paradigm to the quarter century mark. Computing about shapes has certainly been influential among those who think that theories of design and theories of computation have something to offer each other, or may in fact be the same thing.

It is a great pleasure to see in print this paper by Knight and Stiny (arq 5/4, pp 355–372), who have been collaborating for many years, Stiny predominantly as a theoretician, and Knight as a design teacher. Despite their close association, they have rarely published together, and it was something of a landmark when they gave a joint keynote speech, received with great warmth, to the conference in Greenwich in January 2000. The field in which they engage has grown rapidly, and few can be better placed to review its achievements, and establish a basic taxonomy to classify existing work, and map areas for further research.

The demise of architecture schools in the latest Research Assessment Exercise (RAE)will have caught the attention of every architect working in one of the UK's research-led universities (arq 5/4, p 291 ). The debate about architectural theory, its definition and application into practice is complex, diverse and sometimes contentious. Within universities where research success is at the heart of their culture, architectural ‘research’ does not necessarily follow conventional protocols or manifest itself in the refereed journals ubiquitous in other disciplines. But should it be any less valued because its output does not conventionally fall into one of those standardized categories?

A simple and now standardised method of project description linking architectural ideas to technical requirements enables sub-contractors to develop their proposals around their own proprietary technologies.

Frank O. Gehry and Associates' (FOG/A) sculptural approach to building form is widely known. Their geometrically complex designs and frequently unorthodox use of materials, as in the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao [1], the Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles, the Experience Music Center in Seattle, and the Neue Zollhof office complex in Düsseldorf seem to have redefined the idea of what is possible in architecture.

Peter Wilson's early interests in figuration, metaphor and narrative in architecture are most clearly illustrated in sites selected for his unit projects and competition entries completed while at the Architectural Association in the 1970s and '80s. Whether outwith or within cities, Wilson's concerns revolved primarily around the orchestration of a collection of expressive objects, on various tableaux themselves embodying, a priori, charged and original poetics. These preoccupations have largely extended to and variously informed the work of Arkitekturbüro Bolles+Wilson, the Münster based practice started in 1987 by Wilson and his partner Julia Bolles.

A recent conference in San Francisco called Point Break, the place where a wave comes ashore, looked at how the markets, perceived value, and knowledge of the architectural profession appear to be changing and what that means for education, practice, and client relations. It also revealed an astonishing trend in the declining numbers of architecture graduates seeking licensure.

The late seventeenth century saw massive shifts in construction techniques and practice. This was particularly true in structural carpentry and owed much to the innovations of a single architect.

Sir Christopher Wren occupies a central place in English architectural history. Yet he was also a mathematician and it is reasonable to assume that he took more than a passing interest in the structural aspects of his buildings. Starting from the work of David Yeomans (1992 et al), this article considers his involvement in one particular craft, carpentry. By returning to the original documents and from careful measurement and recording of the surviving works and other buildings of the time, it reveals that his office had a far greater influence than hitherto supposed.

Christine Hawley's cri de coeur (p.5 ) on the outcome of the UK Government's latest Research Assessment Exercise (RAE) may be dismissed by some as sour grapes. Others, however, will welcome the robustness of her warning and hope that, at long last, the research dilemma in university architecture schools will be given the airing it deserves. One body in particular should facilitate such a debate – the Royal Institute of British Architects – but it has never shown much interest in the subject (arq 5/4, p. 291).

Until about 1974 , James Stirling's work subverted and redefined the Modernist canon. Michael Spens is deeply sympathetic to Stirling and brilliantly analyzes some of the authentic masterpieces from that time, particularly Olivetti Haslemere and the St Andrews residential accommodation (arq 5/4 ,pp 333–353). Accurately, he identifies the unbuilt St Andrews Arts Centre (1974) as the point where things began to change. After that, influenced by Werner Kreis, Léon Krier and others (and of course Colin Rowe), Stirling began to explore an exciting amalgam of the abstract and the figurative, marrying his previously intransigent Modernism to a representational Neo-Classical idiom.