I attended a talk presented by the University of Arizona School of Architecture on “Sections.” Most people know what a cross-section looks like. It’s a cutaway view of something. Section is the more general term, because a drawing can show a slice of the building (or object) horizontally or vertically, and in several directions on each of those planes. The term cross-section is thus inexact. Nobody wants to be inexact.

The lecturer was David Lewis, a professor and architect who co-wrote a book on sectional drawings (Manual of Section). He was on this topic like Spandex on a yoga teacher. He had disparaging remarks for competing architectural views, the elevation and the plan. He was Mister Section, superhero!.

Who knew that sectional drawings contained a world of subtle nuance? These were lovingly pointed out with intricate drawings and corresponding photographs of buildings. Imagine a doll house sectioned vertically so you can see all the rooms inside and what’s in them.

Now, what if a floor of the building had three levels with connecting ramps? Then you’d have a sheared section, by golly. If the rooms were internally divided by glass walls then if you were in section two, you could look down into section one to see what’s going on there, and on the other side, you could look up to section three to see what those people are doing. This would be a positive experience for everyone, according to architect Lewis. I’m not so sure it would be.

As the lecture went on, I realized that by focusing on the sectional view, this architect had put himself into a very vertical mind-set. When you think about diminishing buildable space and increasing cost of construction, it seems clear that the architectural future is vertical. The sprawling, single-story house I live in will become a charming historical artifact (or a vacant, buildable lot).

I thought about architect Lewis as a fictional character. This character would have a sectional, or vertical world-view of everything, in time as well as space. His spatial world would be layered. He sees everything with an above and a below. Every business has roots, every house a basement. Time would be understood as multiple parallel processes, lots of different, non-interactive activities going on at once. People and groups in his story wouldn’t know each other, even if they were physically nearby, separated by the thinnest of walls, floors, and ceilings.

The broader past and future would be of no interest. Most importantly, the section gives you the ability to see inside. The sectional character would be very interested in knowing what’s going on in each room and how systems work inside. What’s in that space? What’s in your head? He would be intolerant of secrets. For the sectional character, everything must be revealed, top to bottom, outside to in.

A second character would have a plan view of the world. A floorplan is seen as if from above, like a map, and shows all the rooms but only one level at a time. Plan Person has horizontal context. He or she is omniscient over a limited domain spread out in time and space. Plan Person is all about connections, doors and windows, hallways, communications, networking, causality. Everybody knows everybody. People visit each other’s spaces, thoughts, and motivations.

Plan Person is practical. How do you get from here to there? That’s what matters. What’s above or below the current plan doesn’t matter, only this world here and now. Plan Person is not curious. Context outside the plan means nothing. Connections between floors are cursory. In time, Plan Person cares about history and the future, but only in the context of a rigidly defined world.

Naturally, Section Person hates Plan Person and everything he believes in, without realizing how connected they really are.

The third character is infused by the elevation view of buildings, objects, and life. The elevation view is the outside of a building seen from the curb. There is no interior in elevation view. Only appearance matters, although that appearance can be extremely detailed and contextual, well-located in its surrounding.

Elevation Person is all about looks and presentation. He or she cares nothing about what’s inside. This is not to say Elevation Person is superficial. The elevation view can be extremely detailed, based on meticulous observation of shapes, textures, proportions, materials, recesses, loads. Elevation Person literally has perspective. He or she could be a good scientist or painter, maybe a good detective.

In time, Elevation Person lives only in the now. Time has no meaning. Life is about how things look right now. No birth, no death, no ageing, weathering, or erosion. You must look fresh and crisp forever. No cutaways, no glimpses of the inside. If the perspective changes, that becomes a “new now,” with no connection to the past or the future. The other two characters are a mystery to Elevation Person.

I came away from this interesting lecture satisfied, with a couple of pages of character ideas in my notebook. I’m sure the lecturer would be surprised, if not horrified, to know what my takeaway was, but that’s how it should be. You teach what you teach; I learn what I learn. We live in different rooms.