A column is
made for the purpose of supporting weight; this is its use. A
column, when it is a utility, is beautiful. The fluted wooden
columns nailed on outside my house are not utilities. They are not
beautiful. They are nightmares. They not only support no weight,
but they themselves are a weight that drags upon the supports of the
house. Some day, when I get time, one of two things will surely
happen. Either I'll go forth and murder the man who perpetrated the
atrocity, or else I'll take an axe and chop off the lying, fluted
planks.
A thing must be true, or it is not beautiful, any more than a painted
wanton is beautiful, any more than a sky-scraper is beautiful that is
intrinsically and structurally light and that has a false massiveness
of pillars plastered on outside. The true sky-scraper IS beautiful--
and this is the reluctant admission of a man who dislikes humanity-
festering cities. The true sky-scraper is beautiful, and it is
beautiful in so far as it is true. In its construction it is light
and airy, therefore in its appearance it must be light and airy.
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