There’s an interesting post on archizoo about the concept of ‘Cathedral Thinking’:

For Rogers, the concept was about the care and commitment of people who contributed to building the cathedral, a decades-long task, yet would never see its completion. Its implications on vision and strategy development seemed to be about their outcome, a recognition that the successful implementation of the strategy may not be measured until long after it authors have moved on.

I think  starts to hint at the basic reason I’m so ambivalent about the project I posted earlier where a cathedral was converted into a bookstore. There’s something serene and foreign in the concept of thousands of people devoting their lives to a project they know they will never see finished; the sacrilege of that conversion in my mind has less to do with replacing religion with commerce and more to do with respecting the aspirations of all those craftsmen.  Especially in the US, there are very few objects which have remained important for more than a couple generations. We’re not going to be able to embrace long-term sustainability as a culture without retaining some reverence for the past; they’re two perspectives on the same process.

Here’s a great exchange of ideas, the first from Paul Krugman in the NY Times regarding the failings of economists to foresee the recent implosion:

As I see it, the economics profession went astray because economists, as a group, mistook beauty, clad in impressive-looking mathematics, for truth. Until the Great Depression, most economists clung to a vision of capitalism as a perfect or nearly perfect system. That vision wasn’t sustainable in the face of mass unemployment, but as memories of the Depression faded, economists fell back in love with the old, idealized vision of an economy in which rational individuals interact in perfect markets, this time gussied up with fancy equations. The renewed romance with the idealized market was, to be sure, partly a response to shifting political winds, partly a response to financial incentives. But while sabbaticals at the Hoover Institution and job opportunities on Wall Street are nothing to sneeze at, the central cause of the profession’s failure was the desire for an all-encompassing, intellectually elegant approach that also gave economists a chance to show off their mathematical prowess.

And then some commentary from Sean Carrol, writing on my favorite physics blog, Cosmic Variance:

Without knowing much of anything about the relevant issues, I nevertheless suspect that this moral might be a bit too pat. Sure, people can fall in love with beautiful theories, to the extent that they overestimate their relationship to reality. But it seems likely to me that the correct way of understanding all this, once it’s properly understood, will look pretty beautiful as well. General relativity is widely held up as an example of a beautiful theory — and it is, when understood in its own language. But if you put the prediction of GR in the Solar System into the language of pre-existing Newtonian physics (which you could certainly do), it would look ugly and ad hoc. Likewise, Newton’s theory itself is quite elegant, when phrased in the language of potentials on a fixed spacetime background; but if you express the theory in terms of differential geometry (which you could certainly do), it looks like a mess. Sometimes the beauty/ugly distinction between theoretical conceptions is more a matter of how well we understand them, and less about their intrinsic qualities.

So my counter-hypothesis would be that it wasn’t beauty that was the problem, it was complacency. If you have a model that is beautiful and works well enough, you’re tempted to take pride in it rather than pushing it to extremes and looking for problems. I suspect that there is a very beautiful theory of economics out there waiting to be developed, one that understands perfectly well that individuals aren’t rational and markets aren’t perfect. One that has even more impressive-looking equations than the current favored models! Beauty isn’t always a cop-out.

Both those links are well worth a full read (the NY Times one is fairly long – schedule a cozy evening for it). In the spirit of dialogue, my feeling is that both Paul and Sean are coming at this from opposite ends of a single phenomena; well defined systems which involve feedback loops quickly become chaotic at larger scales. This is true for weather (we understand the basics of fluid dynamics and thermodynamics, but weather forecasts will never be very accurate), it’s true for the scale shift from quantum to relativistic, and it’s true for enormous economic systems. In other words, beautiful theories can both be true and useless – it’s all a question of scale.

I spent a lot of time thinking about the Mueller development a few weeks ago (considering a blog post that hasn’t materialized yet), and one of the main themes I kept coming back to was incremental improvement vs systemic redesign.  In the context of urban development, the former essentially means making modest (although not necessarily insignificant) changes to the existing development paradigm, while the former means completely rethinking the system from the ground up, from the financing model to the energy systems to the interactions between tenants. Mueller is clearly in the incremental improvement camp, and viewed from that perspective it is a highly successful project; the developers and designers have done an excellent job of adding ‘green’ features where it’s easy, pushing the typical building style towards something more sustainable and bringing as many stakeholders on board as possible (the city, neighborhoods, big box retailers, community organizations, etc).  Mueller is about as successful an example of ‘New Urbanism’ as you could imagine.

I mention this because there was a post a few days ago on WorldChanging titled “57 Million Chances to Get Housing Right”, discussing the potential impact of substituting sustainable developments for typical developments over the next few years:

he National Research Council’s Transportation Research Board calculated the greenhouse gas savings if new housing was more compact and put homes close to jobs and other amenities. “Driving and the Built Environment:  Effects of Compact Development on Motorized Travel, Energy Use, and CO2 Emission,” a report requested by Congress and published last week, determined that 57 million US homes will be needed by 2030 to accommodate population growth and replacement housing. … So what are the benefits to the climate? According to this study, they were fairly modest. Assuming:

• 75 percent of development is compact…
• leads to residents driving 25 percent less…
• the result is vehicle miles traveled, fuel use, and CO2 emissions of new and existing households would decline up to 8 percent by 2030, increasing to up to 11 percent by 2050.

In order to achieve more substantial progress, a second report identifies 4 primary ‘roadblocks’:

1. Inadequate infrastructure: a lack of public transit, insufficient, or aging utilities, and under-performing schools in city centers and other areas that are prime locations for sustainable development.
2. An uncertain regulatory process: myriad local government requirements, planning and zoning restrictions, fire and other code limitations, extensive project-specific environmental review processes, and local opposition (“no growth” advocates and unhappy neighbors).
3. Higher economic costs: a typically more expensive construction process, longer permitting time, and additional infrastructure burdens make sustainable development in existing neighborhoods less economically competitive than constructing in undeveloped areas.
4. Skewed tax incentives: local governments prefer to permit large single-use retail buildings to maximize sales tax revenue and minimize infrastructure costs, rather than mixed-use development.

And this is why I mention the incremental/systemic issue; a thousand new urbanist developments like Mueller won’t make half as much impact as a few systemic changes.  Our systems were not built to promote sustainable cities, and the first thing you learn in economics is that incentives matter.  In order to implement the massive changes which are needed in our built environment, we need to fundamentally restructure the incentives which influence them.  As helpful as Mueller and it’s type of development are, they are struggling against multiple systems which undervalue such developments.

In the short term, systemic change may be as difficult to implement as massive incremental changes, but from the perspective of a developer or designer who is hoping to generate change there is one key difference between incremental and systemic proposals; systemic proposals at a small scale can become models for new systems at larger scales.  The data above shows that applying ‘New Urbanism’ universally is an inadequate solution; it is an insufficient model for systemic change.  What we need are new perspectives capable of fundamentally reducing our energy consumption and encouraging long-term planning by individuals, proposals that not only take advantage of higher-quality infrastructure but supplement it as well, proposals which are not only profitable, but which encourage business practices which will be sustainable in the long term.  In my opinion, even a modestly successful proposal which addresses these aspirations is more valuable than another highly successful New Urbanist development.

My Ninja, Please! just posted about a project I completely love: Sietch Nevada.

For those of you who don’t read a lot of Sci-Fi, the term ’sietch’ comes from Frank Herbert’s masterpiece ‘Dune’.  The dune series takes place largely on a planet covered by (you guessed it) dunes; an entire planet covered by desert.  The inhabitants of the planet live in scattered settlements built into rock formations and their culture is largely based around an eons-long process of capturing water from the atmosphere to terraform the planet into a lush green forest.  The project above is a proposal which takes these settlements as a conceptual starting point and applies the idea to the imminent water shortage in the American Southwest.  From AMNP’s description:

MATSYS has created a subterranean city – taking the idea of waterbanking one step further, creating an underground canal system that both provides water to the inhabitants and allows for necessary irrigation of the proposed garden spaces in the center of each of the sietch’s cells.

There are so many things to love about this project; the apocalyptic desperation of moving underground, the synthesis of urban space and food production, the geothermal cooling approach, the voronoi diagram of the towers and canals, etc.  These are the types of though experiments that we need more of in theoretical architecture.

I’m generally annoyed at architectural proposals this divorced from the reality of what can be practically implemented; what makes this project different is that it starts from the perspective that eventually we will be forced to start thinking with a much longer time horizon that we have been, then proposes a design that could be plausible in this inevitable future.  This seems more like a contingency plan for an uncomfortable future than an ill-conceived and under-informed plan for what to do now.

Dezeen just published some photos of a cathedral remodel; the cathedral had been turned into a retail store.

I have mixed feelings about this project.  On the one hand, the design itself is both sensitive to the nature of the existing building and interesting in its own right.  The space is being used as a book store, and the ’stacks’ have been placed in the center of the space two levels high to retain the open majestic feeling of the nave.  The apse had been converted into a reading area filled with seats surrounding a cross-shaped table.  In all, the design is well executed.

But there’s something about this project that makes me uneasy.  Something about taking a cathedral – likely the result of centuries of work by thousands of craftsmen built as a sanctuary from the world of the profane being converted into a retail store seems like an unflattering commentary on the world we live in.

I’m neither religious nor a fan of historical preservation, so it surprises me that this project makes me uneasy; I suspect this is reflecting a growing uneasiness I’ve been feeling about our culture’s recent experiment with consumerism.  I feel like the slow monetization of virtually every aspect of our lives leaves us with a world that is lacking in both poetry and humanity.  Perhaps I’m just growing old enough to feel nostalgic for a past that never existed.

Or, as he’s known to his friends, the anticube

I was pondering how one might go about elevating a building (think tree-house) and it occurred to me that there might be some interesting starting points in the platonic solids.  Wikipedia led me to this guy, who interests me for a couple reasons.  First, it uses a square base and cap, allowing it to be used to construct spaces which don’t have odd angles on top of it.  Second, it stacks both horizontally and vertically – this basic geometry can be repeated outward to make a square grid and upward to make multiple stories.  Finally, I suspect this is the optimal structural way to support a square in space using only tensile/compressive members (ie, no shear walls).

So the blogosphere is abuzz with some early entries to the Re:Burbia competition, and I thought I’d take this occasion to explain why I personally had no interest in the competition.  For anyone not familiar with the competition, the brief states “In a future where limited natural resources will force us to find better solutions for density and efficiency, what will become of the cul-de-sacs, cookie-cutter tract houses and generic strip malls that have long upheld the diffuse infrastructure of suburbia? How can we redirect these existing spaces to promote sustainability, walkability, and community? It’s a problem that demands a visionary design solution and we want you to create the vision!”.  My basic response to this question is that we don’t redirect these existing spaces to promote all those wonderful things; we redirect the people living in those spaces to to our existing urban centers.

There’s a great article in the Atlantic which gets to the heart of the reason I have no interest in ‘fixing’ the suburbs:

As conventional suburban lifestyles fall out of fashion and walkable urban alternatives proliferate, what will happen to obsolete large-lot houses? One might imagine culs-de-sac being converted to faux Main Streets, or McMansion developments being bulldozed and reforested or turned into parks. But these sorts of transformations are likely to be rare. Suburbia’s many small parcels of land, held by different owners with different motivations, make the purchase of whole neighborhoods almost unheard-of. Condemnation of single-family housing for “higher and better use” is politically difficult, and in most states it has become almost legally impossible in recent years. In any case, the infrastructure supporting large-lot suburban residential areas—roads, sewer and water lines—cannot support the dense development that urbanization would require, and is not easy to upgrade. Once large-lot, suburban residential landscapes are built, they are hard to unbuild.

It looks like there was an interesting late submission to the Re:Vision Dallas competition by Little Diversified Architectural Consulting, which seems to address a lot of the ideas we were hoping to integrate into our own proposal; there’s extensive green space, an attempt to create a diversity of experience and address the issue of verticality, and a decent amount of systems thinking.  They seem to be using fairly well-understood systems (greywater treatment, PV panels, green roofs etc), but it’s at least nice to see more people presenting these elements as a central aspect of a design proposal.

More eye candy after the break

Contributing to an ongoing conversation in the office, this post relates to Ryan’s comments about a new development paradigm as well as some of our thinking developed for the Dallas Re:vision competition.

One of the concepts which emerged from the competition was of challenging homeownership as the preferable means to acquiring personal stability:

One could argue that the notion of homeownership, and the fact of being tied to a place, are antiquated. Instead it’s the public spaces of the proposal which will be important and the residential spaces are more like sleeping pods. Property ownership will become less attractive as a tool for financial security encouraging more flexible arrangements. Mobility in the labor market will become increasingly important as economic opportunity continues to decline. Entertainment begins to shift from passive consumption to an interactive, interpersonal creation; gardening, gaming, sports, roomba-hacking, etc.

As was to be expected we were not the first to think of this. Le Corbusier, writing in 1931, proposed the “Freehold Maisonettes” as a “great rent-purchase scheme:”

No actual rent is paid; the tenants take shares in the enterprise; these are payable over a period of twenty years, and the interest represents a very low rent. By the system of rent purchase the bad old property systems no longer exist.

Another concept from the Dallas conversations dealt with the idea of shared spaces and shared systems in the interest of driving efficiency. We considered ideas such as shared kitchens, laundry facilities, gardens, guestrooms, and cooperative workspaces with the goal of paring down this infrastructure from the residential unit and instead concentrating it into centers which serve groups of residents. Again, Corbu beat us to it:

Modern achievement…replaces human labour by the machine and by good organization. The provision of food…is arranged by a special purchasing service, which makes for quality and economy. From a vast kitchen the food is supplied as required to be eaten, either privately or in the communal restaurant.

Rem Koolhas, writing in the 1970’s, touched on similar concepts in describing the Waldorf-Astoria:

The model of the hotel undergoes a conceptual overhaul and is invested with a new experimental ambition that creates Manhattan’s definitive unit of habitation, the Residential Hotel – place where the inhabitant is his own houseguest, instrument that liberates its occupants for total involvement in the rituals of metropolitan life. Everyday life has reached a unique level of complexity… Its unfolding requires elaborate…support systems that are uneconomical in the sense that peak use of décor, space, personnel, gadgetry and artifacts is only sporadic. In addition, this infrastructure is perpetually threatened with obsolescence…which results inevitably in a growing aversion to make household investments. The Residential Hotel transcends this dilemma by separating the private and public functions of the individual household and then bringing each to its own logical conclusion. “Patrons” could avail themselves not only of the usual living facilities in an ultramodern hotel but, in addition, of services that might readily enable them to expand and supplement their own living quarters, and so arrange for the occasional entertainment of their friends…Such a unit of habitation is in effect a commune. Its inhabitants pool their investments to finance a collective infrastructure for the “method of modern living.”

In conclusion our ideas, as with most, are not new but rather represent a vertical integration of concepts in answer to the emerging question of homeownership. It becomes not so much a matter of originality as it does about execution and implementation, the realization of which is the novelty.

I posted earlier about the development process, trying to express some ideas that have been floating around the office regarding how buildings are financed, designed, and built.  What was lacking from that post was any consideration of what happens once the building has been built.  As builders, architects tend to think of buildings as artifacts, objects to be photographed and admired.  This approach ignores the reality that architecture is an element in the dynamic process of human society.

Stepping back to consider architecture as a process allows us to consider a much wider variety of concerns; the lifetime cost of building maintenance, the environmental impact of powering the building, the cultural flows that the building mediates, etc.  Let me touch on a couple such topics before getting into any ideas about how things might be improved.