• Slow Photography, an Interview with Photographer Cynthia Katz

    Not too long ago, I caught up with my high school photography teacher, Cynthia Katz, and was excited to learn about her pursuit of Slow Photography with cyanotypes, a photographic printing process that produces a cyan-blue print. She explained to me that the advent of digital photography changed the way she engaged with the medium and she discovered that the Slow Movement echoed her desire to live more deliberately and purposely. And so she turned to cyanotypes, one of photography’s earliest forms. She writes:

    Artist’s Statement, Cynthia Katz

    “Time has played a pivotal role in photography since its inception in 1839. Exposures, the decisive moment, the notion of history, all conjure time in photography. The advent of digital photography has changed the way I engage with the medium after many decades. Gardening has also framed my life since I was young, and it too has time at its core. Gardening forces us to contend with a process-oriented approach that requires patience and a respect for the elements of nature. Contemporary “slow” movements echo my desire to live at a more deliberate pace, resisting the ‘faster, bigger, more’ aspect of today’s dominant culture, and thus I’ve returned to cyanotypes, one of photography’s earliest forms. Drawn to their tactility and the serendipity of the outcome, I mix my favorite chemical recipe and collect objects around my home and garden in anticipation of imaging. Cyanotyping, like gardening, is slow and timely, ethereal, spiritual and ultimately ephemeral. Happy surprises, and the promise held by chance keep me at it, while failures propel me toward new possibilities. I mark time with cyanotypes along with the garden season.

    These pieces reference rituals and cycles though intersect with current politics, which I’m unable to dismiss. The very nature of process is central to this work, and the fragility of the forms, of alignment, of cross over, of containment, of reaching to connect across boundaries, are all at play. Drinking tea, marking time, making work, recording a present moment into a fixed tone or image, grounds this work on paper. Each cup of tea, each seed, makes something possible.”

    slow photography

    Photo by Cynthia Katz

     How did you become interested in Slow Photography?

    CK: I guess it happened well before “Slow” was a movement. For me, photography has always been about process, careful observation, and tactility. My dad was a photographer, so I have early memories of being in his darkroom with him, making photograms, watching the image come up in the developer. Later I would watch the precision with which he’d frame his images. In my own practice the quiet, contemplative search for images, attention to details of light, frame, juxtapositions of elements, or with my cyanotype work, conceptualizing and putting things together during a printing session, and after the images are made making further decisions, is pivotal. Moving to medium and large formats in grad school as well as doing my first non-silver process workshop were all with the same motivation and love of slowing down, and absorbing the experience and the process. Since digital photography has taken hold, it’s a great antidote. And it’s great to see the resurgence of 19th century processes.

     How do you convey this interest in time to your students through your teaching?

    CK: Time and the (decisive) moment is at the heart of photography and how I teach it, so it’s something that comes up early in my Photo 1 classes. Looking carefully, and deeply at pictures, and getting kids to self assess and talk about photographs is also at the heart of my work with students. When I show slides, or talk about work with students, they get it that I love (good) photography, and the power it has to move us.

    What is it about cyanotypes that you find most compelling?

    CK: Umm, everything. Again, process takes center stage. From weighing and mixing the chemicals, to measuring and tearing the paper, to thinking about what I want to work with (objects), and to conceiving ideas I want to work with, I love the process. I have to think about the weather, because I don’t use a light box (yes, a conscious choice). Just like I have to hang laundry out on sunny days. A day of making cyanotypes starts days before, considering sizes, tearing paper, thinking about what I want to accomplish, and then coating paper starts early in the morning. I find myself printing after the sun has left my “easy” spots, so I’m chasing the sun. A good productive day is immensely satisfying and even bad ones, oh well, gotta chalk it up to process.

    Anything else you want to share?

    CK: Like getting good at anything, it takes practice and consistency, but you also have to do it because you love it. Otherwise, find something else to put your attention to, and dig deeply into.

    Photograph Magazine

    Also, do you have a reference for that article you have tacked up on your studio wall?

    CK: The magazine is called Photograph, probably 4 or 5 years ago at this point.

    “Technology has taught us to consume media of all types at a breathtaking pace … No wonder some photographers (the blog istillshootfilm.org is but one example) have re-embraced analog formats – they have realized that instant gratification isn’t always so satisfying.”

    About The Slow Movement and Slow Art

    Since the 1970s, the principles of the Slow Movement have expanded to touch all areas of our lives; from its original tenet of taking the time to enjoy our food to how our cities impact our moods. As the pace of our lives quickens with ever more sophisticated technology, it makes sense that more and more people are embracing the Slow Movement.

    To clarify, the Slow Movement does not mean that we go back in time or that we literally move more slowly. Rather, we savor life in a conscious and deliberate manner. As Carl Honoré, author of In Praise of Slowness, describes it, Slow is “calm, careful, receptive, still, intuitive, unhurried, patient, reflective, quality-over-quantity. It is making real and meaningful connections – with people, culture, work, food, everything.”

    More recently, the Slow Movement has touched upon the Art world. Museums noticed that their visitors spent an average of just 17 seconds looking at a piece of art. So they created Slow Art Day, held annually in early April, to encourage their visitors to linger and contemplate a piece that speaks to them. This is to encourage a more profound level of engagement and connection.

  • Slow Space in Cities Increases Wellbeing

    In honor of International Day Of Happiness, NewCities published a series from 10 experts from across the globe on urban wellbeing and happiness, including Mette Aamodt. An excerpt of her article, “Slow Space, Slow Cities” is reprinted below.

    NewCities is an international nonprofit organization dedicated to making cities more inclusive, connected, healthy and vibrant.


    We had been trying to live a slow life for a long time before realizing that there was such a thing as the Slow Movement. I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis the same time my partner Andrew Plumb and I were finishing architecture school and starting our careers. The fast-paced, 80-hour weeks at “starchitecture” firms wasn’t going to work for me. We had just moved to New York and simply getting back and forth to work from our Brooklyn apartment was exhausting. As our classmates were making a big splash with their experimental architecture, we consoled ourselves with the story of the tortoise and the hare. Slow and steady wins the race, we said.

    When we learned of the Slow Movement it gave us a name for what we had been doing in both life and design – valuing experience over objects, fewer things done better, the sensual pleasures of life and an appreciation of nature. We call our design philosophy at Aamodt / Plumb “slow space” where we explore the conditions necessary to slow one’s experience of time.

    In this fast-moving world of the 21st century, particularly in cities, we need slow space, a place where we can pause, slow down, be present and truly connect. There is a theory, first developed by British geographer Jay Appleton in 1975, that humans have evolved to crave both prospect (opportunity) and refuge (safety). In landscape theory, this is represented by the safety of the cave and the opportunity of the savannah with its unexplored territory and wildlife. I think this is equally true in the city. When we are “out and about” or “pounding the pavement” in a city we are prospecting. We are looking for opportunities, looking for what is new and interesting. Cities are full of opportunities, that is why people go there, but what refuge do they offer? The slow spaces are the spaces of refuge, both physical and mental, that we retreat to when we are overwhelmed, in need of comfort, or just tired at the end of the day.

    I have lived in cities all over the world and have been a student of each while there: an urban studies major and architect in New York, an urban planning student in Paris, an urban design fellow in Fukuoka, an urban planner in Oslo. Each of these places has taught me lessons about slow space that can be applied to all cities.

    Read more from “Slow Space, Slow Cities”

  • Sustainable Building Materials for Slow Spaces

    Clean building practices are the line of defense against the thoughtless, ubiquitous use of toxic building materials. The Slow Space Movement advocates for buildings that are good, clean and fair. This is Part 2 of a two-part series on toxic building materials and sustainable building solutions.

    Many toxic materials lurk in our homes and buildings, and they are a danger to our health and the planet. So what is the solution? We think it is going back to basics, slowing down the techno frenzy and learning from techniques that have been tried and tested for thousands of years. I am not going to give up my iPhone, but I want to stop jumping on the bandwagon of every new material technology.

    mud hut sustainable building materials

    The perfect wall: Mud hut with framing, a bark weather barrier, dirt insulation and grass rainscreen.

    This past summer, my husband and partner in (solving the building industry’s toxic materials) crime, Andrew, and I took the kids to Norway, where we always like to visit the Norwegian Museum of Cultural History because they have assembled buildings there from all over the country, extending back a thousand years. For instance, there is a recreation of one of the oldest native structures that offers us a great lesson in building science for cold climates.

    This mud hut has framing, a bark weather barrier, dirt insulation and grass rainscreen. In fact, this wall assembly meets the definition of a “perfect wall” as defined by Joe Lstibureck and the Building Science Corporation.

    From this example we can start to build a list of clean, healthy building materials. Chemical-free, non-toxic, natural materials: wood, bark, dirt and grass. We could also add stone, straw, clay, cork, wool, sand, leather, hemp, brick, bamboo. Any others?

    Speaking of wool, I am reminded again of Joe Lstibureck and his sweater analogy.

    sustainable building materials

    A true Joe Lstibureck-ism: To stay warm, it is much more efficient to wear your sweater, rather than eating it.

    Joe is a funny guy. In a building science seminar Andrew and I took with him, he was describing some fundamentals of insulation. He explained that in Canada, where he and all great building scientists are from, they have learned that to stay warm, it is much more efficient to wear your sweater, rather than eating it. Huh? What he meant was, put your insulation outboard of the framing, not between the studs.

    It is much more efficient to wear your sweater, rather than eating it.

    wool clean building material

    Wool Insulation: Buildings have sweaters.

    But instead of expanded polystyrene (yuck!), why don’t we actually use wool? It is renewable, non-toxic and no animals need be hurt in the process. We have been shearing sheep for thousands of years.

    wool sustainable building materials

    Wool Batts. Image by Havelock Wool.

    Builder Magazine recently featured a wool batt insulation product by Havelock Wool. Wool, the article says, is naturally mold resistant, flame resistant and the amino acids in it naturally bond with and trap harmful chemicals improving indoor air quality. I know this is still an example of eating the sweater, but at least the sweater is non-toxic.

    warming hut sustainable building

    The warming hut by Aamodt/Plumb on the frozen Red River in Winnipeg uses wool felt for insulation.

    sustainable building materials

    Warming hut by Aamodt/Plumb on the frozen Red River in Winnipeg. Photo by Dan Harper.

    We have worked with wool felt a bit, and it is a wonderful product. We used it here to line the interior of the Warming Hut we did on the frozen Red River in Winnipeg. The felt acted as a warm blanket, keeping out wind and cold and reminded us of carpets or pelts that line indigenous tents and huts.

    Hemp is an example of a material you really should eat as it is loaded with healthy essential fatty acids.

    hemp sustainable building materials

    Clean materials you can eat. Images by Hemp for Victory.

    Hemp can also be used for clothing, building materials and fuel for your car. The only thing you can’t do with it is get high. That is hemp’s naughty cousin, marijuana. On this website “The History of Hemp,” it explains that hemp was a staple crop for thousands of years, and still is in many developing countries, because it is so useful and easy to grow just about anywhere. But around 1900, big companies like Dupont were threatened by the cheap sustainable material and had it outlawed.

    But it’s coming back, and we can help. Hemp literally has thousands of uses. A quote from a hemp website gives us an idea:

    “I wake up in bed in the morning on my hemp sheets, on my hemp mattress, on my hemp bed frame, and I put my hemp slippers on, and I walk across my hemp carpet. I drink my hemp smoothie, brush my teeth with hemp toothpaste, slip on my hemp clothes and drive my hemp car, which burns hemp fuel.”

    I have never used hempcrete, but a little research uncovers that this non-structural hemp and lime material comes as cast-in-place or block form. It is an excellent insulation and air barrier that is vapor permeable, and it is pest, rot and fire resistant. I think it would work really well as a rigid insulation outboard of the framing with a rainscreen or stucco over it.

    hemp walls sustainable building

    Hemp walls by Steffen Welsch Architects. Photos by Steffen Welsch Architects.

    Steffen Welsch Architects in Australia uses exposed hemp walls. And there are many other examples of low-tech building techniques that use inherently clean materials and many architects like Mass Design Group, Shigeru Ban and Studio Mumbai, are using them in very modern ways. Rammed earth, tadelakt, and charred wood are ancient building techniques that are finding new favor because of their inherent beauty and connection to the earth as well as our own humanity.

    sustainable building practices

    Building practices have evolved slowly over time. Photo by Studio Mumbai.

    Building practices evolve slowly over time to meet our needs, and through trial and error, cultures have learned what works and what doesn’t. But the the pace of innovation is so fast now that the feedback loop doesn’t reach us until thousands of buildings are built and hundreds of thousands of people are affected. What will our future selves say about the materials we are using today?

    Building practices evolve slowly over time to meet our needs, and through trial and error, cultures have learned what works and what doesn’t. But the the pace of innovation is so fast now that the feedback loop doesn’t reach us until thousands of buildings are built and hundreds of thousands of people are affected.

     

     

  • Toxic Building Materials in Construction

    Toxic Materials: What Are Buildings Made Of?

    Many toxic materials lurk in our homes and buildings and they are a danger to our health and the planet. The Slow Space Movement advocates for buildings that are good, clean and fair. This is Part 1 of a two part series on toxic and sustainable building materials

    Mama, what are buildings made of?

    sustainable building materials vs toxic building materials

    What do I want my children to imagine buildings are made of? I want to feed their virtuous imagination with a picture of bucolic forests and simple wood cabins. Photo by Owen Wassell.

    If you have kids, you know how this conversation starts. “Mama, what are buildings made of?” The picture I paint is one of bucolic forests, simple wood cabins with stone foundations next to flowing streams. It’s the same kind of imagery I use when they ask where milk or strawberries come from. We want our food and building materials to come from such inherently good places, but the reality is much different. Sadly, most of our building materials come from chemical companies, such as Dow and DuPont.

    toxic building materials

    Most of our building materials come from chemical companies: Westlake Chemicals, the largest PVC plant in the country, located in Lake Charles, Louisiana.

    Toxic Materials In Buildings

    In the 2002 environmental comedy “Blue Vinyl,” Judith Helfand discovers the toxic effects of vinyl after her parents decide to reclad their Long Island home in this harmful yet ubiquitous house-siding material.

    Polyvinyl chloride and other chlorinated plastics produce dioxins during their production, burning and disposal. Dioxins are some of the most potent carcinogens known to humankind and also create reproductive, developmental, immune and endocrine disruptions.

    To put it in very clear terms, Agent Orange, the chemical warfare agent used by the US in the Vietnam War, is composed of dioxins. Agent Orange was sprayed over large parts of the country, decimating crops and landscape, and maiming or killing four million people.

    toxic building materials pvc

    PVC pipes are standard in residential construction. Photo: Wikimedia

    75% of all PVC is used in the construction industry

    75% of all PVC used is in the construction industry, and chlorinated plastics can be found in geomembranes, weather stripping, joint filler, water sealers, gaskets, adhesives, wire and cable jacketing, roof membranes and electrical connectors. PVC pipes are standard in residential construction, and few architects, builders or clients are willing to go to bat for an upgrade. Vinyl siding is also standard, and when Aamodt / Plumb was doing public housing work for the Department of Housing and Community Development here in Massachusetts, we were required to use vinyl specifically on all of our projects. Ultimately, we stopped doing that work, and the vinyl was one reason.

    toxic building materials vinyl siding burning

    Burning vinyl, e.g., in a house fire, releases carcinogenic dioxins. Photo courtesy of East PDX News

    Have you ever thought about what happens when a house with vinyl siding burns? I saw a dumpster fire the other day that was melting the vinyl siding right off the building next to it. It was also releasing carcinogenic dioxins into the neighborhood, but you couldn’t see those.

    And the final point that Helfand makes in the movie is that you can’t get rid of PVC. The recycling process requires melting, releasing dioxins, and you can’t burn it for the same reason. If you put it in a landfill, it leaches into the groundwater. So, it’s better not to make it in the first place.

    This all seems like it should be “Green Building 101.” It seems so obvious. But most people have no idea, or they don’t care. And maybe that is because our language around PVC as a product is pretty weak. In a recently published article by Perkins + Will, who are very strong advocates for clean building materials, they put PVC on their “Precautionary List,” and the Living Building Challenge and Cradle to Cradle Products Innovation Institute “recommend avoiding” PVC. No wonder no one is listening.

    No, the government doesn’t have our back

    Maybe we assume that government regulations and bodies like EPA regulate dangerous things. But really, they don’t. We live in a free-market world. Many hazardous substances are only regulated after a class-action lawsuit by hundreds or thousands of harmed people eventually makes its way to the Supreme Court. That’s after people (and the planet) are already sick. That’s too late. Think about Erin Brockovich, Three Mile Island, and Flint, Michigan.

    We are on the leading edge of these stories and we can affect their outcomes. How do you choose your building materials? Do you get your information from the DuPont rep touting the latest innovation in building technology? Or do you use common sense?

    toxic building materials spray foam insulation

    Remember that song “Things that make you go hmmm…”? The contractors applying spray foam insulation in your house are wearing hazmat suits! Photo courtesy of Icynene.

    Let’s take spray foam insulation. Everybody loves it because it gives you a great R-value and air sealing at the same time to meet that stretch energy code. And every insulation contractor is doubling down on its marketing materials and making pricing more competitive. But when two guys show up in hazmat suits to spray this two-part chemical concoction doesn’t that make you wonder?

    Let’s take spray foam insulation. Everybody loves it because it gives you a great R-value and air sealing at the same time… But when two guys show up in hazmat suits to spray this two-part chemical concoction doesn’t that make you wonder?

    Remember that song, “Things That Make You Go Hmmm”? You don’t need to be a genius to figure out that this stuff is toxic. Oh, but the rep says that once it has cured it is completely inert. Really? Let’s  jump ahead 30 years and find out if he is right. And they don’t tell you about the 5–10% of cases where it doesn’t cure properly, and it off-gasses FOREVER. Oh, and you can’t get that stuff off. It really sticks.

    toxic building materials lead paint

    But lead paint and asbestos were once the “latest and greatest” building products. Photo courtesy of Hormones Matter.

    I am no material science expert, I am just sharing what I see. But lead paint and asbestos were once the “latest and greatest” building products too.

    Lead paint that has been banned for decades is still causing developmental problems in children from what’s left over on older houses. How do the kids get exposed to the lead? They eat it! Silly kids will eat anything. My friends’ son used to eat gum off the sidewalk. He’s fine though. So when you are walking around on the expo floor, wondering how to tell clean building products from dirty ones without having to read a bunch of Material Safety Data Sheets, just ask yourself, “Would I eat it?” If the answer is no, then just keep on moving.

    How do the kids get exposed to the lead? They eat it! Silly kids will eat anything.

    And don’t be fooled by yummy flavors. Just because it tastes good does not mean it is good for you.

    Let’s use the food analogy for a minute. I remember reading that to eat healthy, your pre-packaged foods should not have more than five ingredients.

    This practice is from Michael Pollan’s book “Food Rules,” where he writes, “Avoid food products that contain more than five ingredients. The specific number you adopt is arbitrary, but the more ingredients in a packaged food, the more highly processed it probably is.” If there was an ingredients list for our buildings, it would be thousands of pages long. In fact, we already have something like that, and we call it a Spec Book. But it isn’t actually very helpful for knowing what is in the materials. Material Safety Data Sheets and Health Product Declarations help a little, but manufacturers aren’t required to reveal what is in their products. In fact, the ingredients are considered trade secrets.

    If there was an ingredients list for our buildings, it would be thousands of pages long 

    Read Part 2: Clean Materials and Alternative Building Practices

  • The Case For Beauty In Architecture

    For a building to be good, it must be beautiful. Why? Because beauty in architecture brings us joy and happiness. Merriam-Webster defines beauty as “qualities in a person or thing that gives pleasure to the senses or pleasurably exalts the mind or spirit.” Or more to the point, Stendhal, the 19th century French writer, wrote, “Beauty is the promise of happiness.” And happiness is one of our fundamental human needs.

    Beauty is the promise of happiness.

    alhambra beauty in architecture

    The Alhambra — a magnificent example of beauty in architecture, Credit: Mark Horn, Getty Images

    I was delighted when I found the contemporary French philosopher Alain de Botton and his book “The Architecture of Happiness,” about the philosophical and psychological relationship between architecture and our identities.

    De Botton writes: “The buildings we admire are ultimately those which, in a variety of ways, extol the values we think worthwhile — which refer, that is, whether through materials, shapes or colours, to such legendary positive qualities as friendliness, kindness, subtlety, strength and intelligence. Our sense of beauty and our understanding of the nature of a good life are intertwined.” (De Botton, Alain, The Architecture of Happiness)

    beauty in architecture

    Stahl House by Pierre Koenig

    Beauty in architecture

    Beauty is one of the most enduring themes of Western philosophy, going all the way back to Vitruvius’ three laws of architecture: firmitas, utilitas, venustas (solidity, utility, beauty). But when I was in architecture school, no one talked about beauty in architecture because it was considered too subjective. What was important back then was the concept and the idea of the building, not what it looked like.

    beauty in architecture

    Lebbeus Woods Model by John Hill

    Actually, some architects were more interested in the ugly, in an architecture of dissonance or discomfort, like this model that looks like it will attack you. This hasn’t been good for the profession’s PR.

    De Botton points to a study of German psychologist Rudolf Arnheim, where he asked students to draw a good and a bad marriage using only line drawings. “In one example, smooth curves mirror the peaceable and flowing course of a loving union, while violently gyrating spikes serve as a visual shorthand for sarcastic putdowns and slammed doors.”

    beauty in architecture

    Boston City Hall by Daniel Schwen – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0

    In the renaissance, architects were considered the arbiters of beauty. But today, the public often questions architects and designers’ notions of beauty. When I google “ugly building,” the #3 listing is the Wikipedia entry for Boston City Hall. Either Google’s algorithm has a personal beef or there is a general consensus on that one. Either way, that is not the keyword term I would like to rank for. In the article “Ugly Architecture: 15 of the World’s Most Hideous Buildings,” the author wrote, “Some buildings are so ugly, the only thing that could possibly improve them is a wrecking ball.” On the list are many famous architects and well-known firms like Gehry, MVRDV and Perkins + Will. The one that really made me chuckle was the observation tower by artist Anish Kapoor and engineer Cecil Balmond that “looks like a tangle of junk you pulled out of a drawer in your garage.”

    But when, on my quest to expound beauty in architecture, I ask Google about “beautiful buildings,” there is far less agreement. Back in Plato’s day, beauty was considered objective and there were rules and orders that governed it. Even Le Corbusier spoke of a somewhat classical notion of beauty.

    “The Architect, by his arrangements of forms, realizes an order which is a pure creation of his spirit; through forms and shapes, he affects our senses to an acute degree and provokes plastic emotions; by the relationships which he creates he creates profound echoes in us, he gives us the measure of an order which we feel to be in accordance with that of our world, he determines the various movements of our heart and of our understanding; it is then we experience the sense of beauty.” (Le Corbusier quoted in The Architecture of Happiness)

    But now we tend to believe that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” De Botton quotes Stendahl: “There are as many styles of beauty as there are visions of happiness.”

    Is beauty universal?

    Certainly, different cultures have different notions of beauty. Indeed, wabi-sabi offers quite a different notion of beauty from Arabic geometric patterns.

    beauty in architecture

    Ryoan-ji Garden in Kyoto, Japan – Stephane D’Alu’s photo, CC BY-SA 3.0

    Our tastes and definitions of beauty change in response to other cultural influences, but they also change over time in response to shifts in our own society. According to de Botton, German art historian Wilhelm Worringer suggested that over the span of human history societies have oscillated between a preference for abstract and realistic art, and that those preferences have changed based on what the societies themselves were lacking.

    “Abstract art, infused as it was with harmony, stillness and rhythm, would appeal chiefly to societies yearning for calm — societies in which law and order were fraying, ideologies were shifting and a sense of physical danger was compounded by moral and spiritual confusion. Against such a turbulent background (the sort of atmosphere to be found in many of the metropolises of twentieth-century America …), inhabitants would experience what Worringer termed ‘an immense need for tranquility,’ and so would turn to the abstract, to patterned baskets or the minimalist galleries of Lower Manhattan.”

    In the twenty-first century, in the age of instant communication, political turmoil and climate catastrophes, this need for tranquility, and what we would term slowness, feels to me to be even more important.

  • Designing the Experience of Space

    In this installment on our series about the three tenets of good architecture, we illuminate the experience of space and architecture. By focusing on the experience of the space rather than the form or function of the building, we as architects can impact people in profound and meaningful ways. Juhani Pallasmaa writes:

    “When designing physical spaces, we are also designing, or implicitly specifying distinct experiences, emotions and mental states. In fact, as architects we are operating in the human brain and nervous system as much as in the world of matter and physical construction. I dare to make this statement as science has established that environments change our brains, and those changes in turn alter our behavior.” (Pallasmaa, Juhani. “Empathic and Embodied Imagination: Intuiting Experience and Life in Architecture” in Architecture and Empathy.)

    … Environments change our brains, and those changes in turn alter our behavior.

    experience of space

    Rigid and in order: A quintessentially Swiss experience designed by Peter Zumthor. Photo by Jonathan Ducrest

    Phenomenology in architecture

    However, too much of architecture has focused on form-making and too little on the experience of space. In fact, form-making has been the dominant theme of modernism, postmodernism and contemporary theories. This is a very rational, static and abstract notion of architecture that dates back to the renaissance, euclidean geometry and René Descartes’ philosophy of “cogito, ergo sum,” “I think, therefore I am.” Vittorio Gallese says, based on his theory of embodied simulation, that philosophy is incorrect. “More relevant than ‘cogito’ — and here phenomenology got it exactly right — than ‘I think’ is ‘I can.’ The physical object, the outcome of symbolic expression, becomes the mediator of an intersubjective relationship between creator and beholder.” (Gallese, Vittorio. “Architectural Space from Within: The Body, Space and the Brain” in Architecture and Empathy.)

    Gallese references the phenomenologists — both philosophers and architects — that have been studying human consciousness and built space through the context of experience and phenomena since the early 20th century, in direct opposition to Descartes’ philosophy that views the world as sets of objects. Architect and Professor Botond Bognar summarizes phenomenology in architecture as follows:

    “As opposed to traditional Western understanding based on a sharp distinction between person and the world, phenomenology — highly critical of Cartesian dualism in any form — regards subjects and objects in their unity. Phenomenology understands a world wherein people and their environment mutually include and define each other. It focuses upon nature and reality not as an absolutum existing only outside us, but as subject to human scrutiny, interaction, and creative participation.” (Bognar, Botond. “A phenomenological approach to architecture and its teaching in the design studio” in Dwelling, Place and Environment.)

    Slow Space is founded in phenomenology, as is our work at Aamodt / Plumb Architects. We ask ourselves how the spaces we create might make people feel. We ask our clients how they want to feel in their home, their school, their library or their hospital. Let us be aware of how spaces make us feel and teach our clients how to feel space as well. It’s no different than cultivating your taste for wine or fine food. One of the Slow Food Movement’s early objectives was to cultivate an appreciation for the taste of good food. I think we should do the same with great spaces. We should cultivate an appreciation for good buildings. It’s not enough just to look at a beautiful picture. Here is a picture of a beautiful dish from Bon Appetit. It looks delicious. But so does this picture of a Whopper, even though we know it is junk food.

    Let us be aware of how spaces make us feel and teach our clients how to feel space as well.

    How about wine? A photo doesn’t do much for it. It’s all in the taste, in the experience. And wine’s popularity is soaring. Millennials are spending more on wine and restaurants and experiences than consumer goods.

    Zumthor’s thermal baths as paradigm for designing the experience of space

    Peter Zumthor’s thermal baths in Vals, Switzerland, serve as an example for designing the experience of space. We spoke with Swiss-born photographer Jonathan Ducrest, who explored the world-famous building with his camera. See his photography and read the story in the article, “Architecture as Experience: Peter Zumthor’s Thermal Baths“.

     

     

  • Designing With Empathy

    The Slow Space Movement stands for buildings that are good, clean and fair, but what exactly do we mean by that? This is our inaugural piece in a series of articles exploring this thematic trifecta of what we understand slow space to be, beginning with “good.”

    In our practice at Aamodt / Plumb, we define a good building as a building that holds meaning for the users, brings them joy and connects them to the world, to others or to themselves in some way. A good building does not just satisfy our basic needs but helps us to understand ourselves and our place in the world. It mediates between our being and our environment, providing a filter through which we can see ourselves and the world. It is not a benign shelter, but a lense that we create for experiencing the world and ourselves within it.

    As architects, designing a good building is a hard, if not impossible, task, but one that we choose to strive for every day. One of the ways we can pursue good building is through empathy.

    Feeling what they feel
    architecture design empathy

    Architecture and Empathy, 2015. Published by The Tapio Wirkkala-Rut Bryk Foundation.

    Empathy is putting yourself in someone else’s shoes and feeling the emotions they feel. According to Juhani Pallasmaa, empathy in architecture is when “The designer places him/herself in the role of the future dweller and tests the validity of the ideas through this imaginative exchange of roles and personalities.” (Pallasmaa, Juhani. “Empathic and Embodied Imagination: Intuiting Experience and Life in Architecture” in Architecture and Empathy.)

    Empathy is one of our basic human traits and one that differentiates us from other species. It evolved to nurture babies outside of the womb, as our upright position forced babies to be born before full gestation. Babies continue to develop through skin to skin contact with their mothers. Without this babies fail to thrive and suffer irreparable physical and psychological damage, and sometimes death. Architect and philosopher Sarah Robinson has argued that the skin is the most fundamental medium of contact with our world.

    architecture design empathy

    “Boundaries of skin: John Dewey, Didier Anzieu and Architectural Possibility” in Architecture and Empathy

    “Empathy allows us to connect to the world through our own bodies and in turn, the world opens itself up to us as we feel our way into it. As the mutuality of the mother-baby relationship exemplifies, we dwell in a reciprocating circuit. We are built to be received into a world to which we must connect, into a world that fits us. Empathy is the deep reflexivity at the heart of life.” (Robinson, Sarah. “Boundaries of Skin: John Dewey, Didier Anzieu and Architectural Possibility” in Architecture and Empathy.)

    The leather-clad door handles at the Villa Mairea by Alvar Aalto are an example of how sensitive the architect was in designing the physical point of connection between the user and the building. Instead of leaving the cold metal bare to draw heat away from the body, he wrapped them in leather so the contact would be skin to skin.

    Embodied simulation

    Recent discoveries in neuroscience have identified exactly how empathy works within our bodies. Mirror neurons in the brain create a mechanism, called embodied simulation, that maps the actions, emotions and sensations of other people onto our brains as if we were experiencing them ourselves. Embodied simulation is not just limited to empathizing with people, it extends to objects and space. MD PhD Vittorio Gallese, who along with his team discovered these mirror neurons, says that “Embodied simulation not only connects us to others, it connects us to our world — a world inhabited by natural and manmade objects … as well as other individuals.” (Gallese, Vittorio. “Architectural Space from Within: The Body, Space and the Brain” in Architecture and Empathy)

    “The notion of empathy recently explored by cognitive neuroscience can reframe the problem of how works of art and architecture are experienced, revitalizing and eventually empirically validating old intuitions about the relationship between body, empathy and aesthetic experience.” (Ibid.)

    Human-centered design

    Empathy is a cornerstone of human-centered design, a buzzword that has been nicely packaged and branded by IDEO, the interdisciplinary design consulting firm.

    “Human-centered design is a creative approach to problem solving and the backbone of our work at IDEO.org. It’s a process that starts with the people you’re designing for and ends with new solutions that are tailor made to suit their needs. Human-centered design is all about building a deep empathy with the people you’re designing for; generating tons of ideas; building a bunch of prototypes; sharing what you’ve made with the people you’re designing for; and eventually putting your innovative new solution out in the world.” (IDEO Design Kit)

    This description is how I always understood architecture, but I am grateful to IDEO for spreading these ideas to the mass market. But why does human-centered design seem so out of fashion inside our industry? What is it in contrast to? It is in contrast to market-driven design, like developers who are often just concerned with maximizing square footage and reducing costs. We are all pretty familiar with these examples.

    Technology-driven design

    Then there is technology-driven design that I will call “tech for tech’s sake.” Quoting a recent opinion piece in The Guardian, “If there’s one thing the technology community loves, it’s an over-engineered solution to a problem that isn’t really a problem. Double points if the root of that problem is: ‘I’m a young man with too much money who needs technology to do for me what my mother no longer will.’ ” (The five most pointless tech solutions to non-problems,” The GuardianAt the top of their list of the most useless tech solutions is the Juicero, a $400, Wi-Fi-enabled machine that squeezes single-purpose pods filled with crushed fruit and vegetables into a glass. This company raised $120 million in venture capital. PS: It turns out, if you just squeeze the pod, the juice will come out ready to drink. No machine needed. (Juicero has suspending the sale of the Juicero Press and Produce Packs in September 2017.)

    design empathy

    Tech as tech can: Render of Zaha Hadid’s design for the headquarters of the Central Bank of Iraq. Photo: Zaha Hadid Architects

    Technology-driven design has dominated architecture for the past 20 years, where the cutting edge has been defined by what wild architectural form could be created by the latest software and material technology. The work of FOA, Zaha Hadid and Frank Gehry comes to mind. The green movement has also been swept up in technology-driven design, with everyone searching for the tech equivalent of the silver bullet that will solve our environmental crisis.

    “True sustainability demands more than technological solutions — it must be founded on an understanding of human nature that recognizes, affirms and supports our nascent vulnerability and interdependence.” (Robinson, Sarah. “Boundaries of Skin: John Dewey, Didier Anzieu and Architectural Possibility” in Architecture and Empathy.)

  • Sverre Fehn: Between Earth & Sky

    I have visited Sverre Fehn’s National Museum – Architecture and Grosch Bistro in Oslo many times as a good friend is one of the curators and worked with Fehn on the renovation and addition. The place is calm, soothing, comforting and timeless. There is no wow factor for the architectural tourist other than the sheer contrast of the classical building and the modern pavilion. The cafe feels like it has always been there, and always will. A narrow door leads to the pavilion where you immediately enter the generous, bright, open and protected space. My words can’t do it justice I am afraid, nor will my pictures. Unfortunately, the day of this visit the exhibition on display in the pavilion obscured the experience of the space by putting a massive solid structure in the middle and overlaying drawings and text on the glass walls.

    I wanted to write about this Slow Space because of the wonderful experiences I have had there and the esteem I hold for the late Sverre Fehn and his work. But as I researched this article I discovered that my intuition about Fehn’s work was confirmed by his philosophies and writings that touch on meaning, authenticity, human existence, sensual experience, and the search for place. These are the fundamental principles of Slow Space and Fehn’s work is our guide.

    Existence and Authenticity

    Throughout his career the Norwegian architect Sverre Fehn (1924-2009) sought to understand human existence and define one’s place in this world. With every project he explored different ways of creating “a place to be” (Norwegian: et sted å være) defining, architecturally, “the space between” (Norwegian: mellomrom) the earth and sky.

    “A place to be” can be a philosophical or spiritual place if you are a philosopher or theologian. Fehn was influenced by the Existentialists at the time, who were primarily concerned with concrete human experience and living life authentically, in contrast to the increasing meaningless and absurd world they saw around them. But for Fehn the architect, “a place to be” was a physical space that mediates between the deep earth and the vast sky. It is a space of comfort that can be touched, felt and experienced, built with simple, true means and materials.

    The Space Between

    Working primarily in the open Norwegian landscape, Fehn defined mellomrom architecturally as the space between the roof and the ground planes. The dialectic between these two planes shows up in all of his projects, although the solutions are always different, and the vertical elements of wall and roof are de-emphasized, often to create a greater connection to the landscape. In some cases, the roof form is strong and imposing, providing true shelter from the elements, as in the Glacier Museum in Fjæreland (1991).

    But sometimes the roof acts more like the clouds above, filtering light, as in the Nordic Pavilion at the Venice Biennale (1959-1962). Fehn’s Nordic Pavilion is composed of a level ground plane cut into the hillside and a roof composed of two layers of slender concrete beams set at 90 degrees to one another. The only vertical elements are a few existing trees that pierce through the roof structure, let in rain and provide the scale of nature in an urban context. Two walls retain the hill and provide the space for hanging art and the other two are completely open with only massive sliding glass doors.

    Gennaro Postiglione describes the light and atmosphere of the Nordic Pavilion: “Penetrating the double framework of the ceiling beams, the intense light of the lagoon undergoes a magical metamorphosis and is transformed into a gentle homogenous light void of shadows, like Nordic light.” The unique quality of light, along with the deep rectangular plan, create a contemplative space inside the gardens of the Biennale, perfect for the appreciation of art and architecture.

    nordic-pavilion-sverre-fehn-ake-e:son-lindman

    Nordic Pavilion at the Venice Biennale, Photo: Åke E:son Lindman

    Nordic Pavilion for the Venice Biennale

    Nordic Pavilion for the Venice Biennale, Section Drawings by Sverre Fehn

    Introspection

    The National Museum – Architecture in Oslo (2008) is one of Fehn’s last projects. He was commissioned for the restoration of the original bank building (Christian Heinrich Grosch, 1830) as well as the new addition. The vaulted lower level of the original structure is where he placed the lobby, bookstore, Grosch Bistro and entrance to the gallery spaces. The groin vaults in limed plaster contrasted with the red brick floor instantly recall the earth and sky. Walls and ceiling blend together into one continuous soothing ceiling-scape that envelops you in a warm glow of diffused light. The brick floor is the earth underfoot, made of the rough clay and heavily textured compared with the plaster vaults. The only other elements are the oak shelves, tables and chairs that appear to grow out of the earth and provide “a place to be,” to sit and slowly enjoy a chat, a coffee or a meal.

    The pavilion at the museum is entirely new. A delicate shell-shaped concrete roof hovers over the glass wall perimeter held up by four massive pillars. Again the roof is the dominant element and the walls are barely there. But given its urban context Fehn surrounded the pavilion with a second set of concrete walls that edit out any visual noise. This results in an introverted space filled with daylight, views of the sky and momentary glimpses of the surrounding context. The concrete walls extend the space visually further dematerializing the glass walls and providing a calm backdrop for the exhibition.

    SF Oslo Cafe with People_ Mette Aamodt

    Grosch Bistro, Photo: Mette Aamodt

    SF Oslo Pavilion Perimeter_Mette Aamodt

    Pavilion at The National Museum – Architecture, Photo: Mette Aamodt

    Dialogue With Materials

    To find one’s place in the world, according to Fehn, and to be truly present, involves all of your senses in dialogue with the materials around you. Fehn writes, “You converse with material through the pores of your skin, your ears, and your eyes. The dialogue does not stop at the surface, as its scent fills the air. Through touch, you exchange heat and the material gives you an immediate response… Speak to a mountain ledge, and [it gives] sound a mirror. Listen to a snow-covered forest, and it offers the language of silence.” For his projects he used a very limited palette of materials whose properties he knew very well: wood, glass, concrete, brick, plaster and light. His work was rooted in construction and the very practical building techniques of Norway, so all of the materials are used in a very natural form, unadorned and lacking in any detail that was not necessary for construction.

    Slow Modernism

    In Sverre Fehn: Works, Projects, Writing, 1949-1996, Christian Nordberg-Shulz writes about Fehn’s trip to Morocco in 1952 and how this informed Fehn’s understanding of the relationship between space and time. Fehn went to discover new things and found many things he had seen before, things he recognized in the work of Frank Lloyd Wright, Mies van der Rohe and Le Corbusier. Nordberg-Shulz said Fehn discovered the atemporality and anonymity of vernacular architecture; “He discovered that basic architectonic phenomena are timeless.”

    In Fehn’s view, this atemporality characterized the period when people thought the world was flat and ended at the horizon that they could see. When they discovered the world was round, virtually endless, they developed perspective as a means for defining space, as Fehn writes, “to distinguish scientifically between inside and outside,” with a linear and homogenous time marching along beside it.

    According to Nordberg-Shulz, the modernists, inspired by the vernacular, sought to define a new meaning for the “atemporal” in architecture, but one that was more qualitative and involved the interaction of the individual’s heart and mind with the modern world. This suggests an alternate history of the modern movement, or at least part of it, a slower, humanist approach that typically gets drowned out.

    Nordberg-Shulz writes, “It is a misunderstanding to think of the modern movement as one interested exclusively in change; its pioneers were strongly aware of the need for ‘constants,’ or ‘basic principles.’” Indeed, the modern movement has been characterized by its obsession with speed, change and novelty. But as with all histories there are always many versions. The history of Slow Modernism is certainly one worth researching and will be the subject of my upcoming book.

    About Sverre Fehn
    Sverre Fehn

    Sverre Fehn, Photo: Stina Glømmi

    Sverre Fehn (1924 – 2009) was the leading Norwegian architect of his generation.

    In 1952–1953, during travels in Morocco, he discovered some universal spatial principles which were to deeply influence his future work. Later he moved to Paris, where he worked for two years in the studio of Jean Prouvé, and where he knew Le Corbusier. On his return to Norway, in 1954, he opened a studio of his own. In the 1960s he produced two works that have remained highlights in his career: the Nordic Pavilion at the Venice Biennale (1959-62) and the Hedmark Museum in Hamar, Norway (1967–79).

    He taught in Oslo’s School of Architecture as well as at the Cranbrook Academy of Art in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan. His highest international honor came in 1997, when he was awarded the Pritzker Architecture Prize.

    Bibliography
  • McMansions are the Fast Fashion of the Building Industry

    Up until the early 20th century when a man or woman of means needed a new suit or dress they would go to a Tailor or Dressmaker.

    They might have had some magazine clippings of what they liked and a vague description of the type of event they would use it for.

    The dressmaker would take their measurements and send them on their way.

    Later he or she would do some sketches of the design to show to the clients and if they approved she would make the garment.

    One hundred years later, fashion has moved on but architecture is still trying to practice in exactly this same way. The Dressmaker is out of business but the Architect still fights for the few small commissions that remain.

    The Architect of today practices just like the Dressmaker of 100 years ago.

    Ready-to-wear fashion has revolutionized that industry sacrificing quality for quantity. And it has created some significant human and environmental issues in the process. Labor conditions for textile workers, environmental pollution from pesticides used in cotton production and the waste of poor-quality Fast Fashion are but a few examples.

    Move-in-ready spec homes constitute more than 98% of new home starts each year, again sacrificing quality for quantity. McMansions are 50% bigger than the average home for the same sized family 50 years earlier. They are built quickly, with poor quality materials that do not hold up and the residential building industry is notorious for wage theft and exploitation of illegal workers.

    McMansions are the Fast Fashion of the building industry.

    Fast Fashion and Junkspace, the term we use for spec houses, strip malls, etc., have as much in common as the Dressmaker and the Architect, however the Architect is not out of business yet. Hundreds of young architects graduate from school every year and they are passionate, motivated and creative. If only they recognized the precarious state of the profession and banded together to forge a new future that created buildings that were good, clean and fair for all. That is the mission of the Slow Space Movement.

  • Junkspace and the Death of Architecture: Slow Space Finds its Nemesis

    “Junkspace” is a rambling, brilliant lamentation on the death of architecture by one who actively participated in its demise. It was a scathing critique at the time it was first published, but now 16 years later, it can only be seen as a prophecy. A siren call fully actualized.

    The essay “Junkspace” by Rem Koolhaas first appeared in The Harvard Design School Guide to Shopping (2001). It was reissued along with an introduction and essay entitled “Running Room” by Hal Foster in 2013.

    Surprisingly little has been written about “Junkspace” and I believe that is a reflection on the discipline of architecture rather than on the importance of the essay.

    Koolhaas was far ahead of his time when he wrote this in 2001. What should have been a wake up call has merely languished. I myself was at the GSD then and had no awareness of what Koolhaas was doing or thinking. Nor can I recognize any shift in OMA’s work that might be attributed to this.

    I stumbled upon the essay last year when I was doing my own research. The title alone spoke to me and I found the concept of Junkspace to be the perfect villain and counterpoint for Slow Space. The essay by Koolhaas should be read in it entirety as it can be interpreted in many different ways. Below is a series of excerpts from the text alternated with my own comments.

     

    The End of Architecture

     

    “It was a mistake to invent modern architecture for the 20th century. Architecture disappeared in the 20th century.”

    Why? Because we lost our ability to appreciate, experience and therefore design space.

    “As if space itself is invisible, all theory for the production of space is based on an obsessive preoccupation with its opposite: substance and objects, i.e., architecture. Architects could never explain space; Junkspace is our punishment for their mystifications.”

    It is the resultant of the image-driven obsession with form.

    “Junkspace is the body double of space, a territory of impaired vision, limited expectation, reduced earnestness.”

    The junk food of architecture, Junkspace is the McMansions, the shopping malls and casinos that are bloated on fillers and chemicals.

    “Because it cannot be grasped, Junkspace cannot be remembered. It is flamboyant yet unmemorable.”

    Initially exciting but quickly leaves you feeling empty, lost and detached.

    “Junkspace is overripe and undernourishing at the same time.”

    And will ultimately make you sick.

     

    Starchitecture

     

    “Junkspace is post-existential; it makes you uncertain where you are, obscures where you go, undoes where you were.”

    We are distracted from the essential questions of life – who are you? what is the meaning of life? – by busyness, overstimulation, visual and audible noise.

    “(Note to architects: you thought that you could ignore Junkspace, visit it surreptitiously, treat it with condescending contempt or enjoy it vicariously… because you could not understand it, you’ve thrown away the keys…. But now your own architecture is infected, has become equally smooth, all-inclusive, continuous, warped, busy, atrium-ridden….) JunkSignature™ is the new architecture: the former megalomania of a profession contracted to manageable size.”

    Junkspace is the dominant paradigm and architects, without protest or criticality, have succumbed.

    “A shortage of masters has not stopped a proliferation of masterpieces. ‘Masterpiece’ has become a definitive sanction, a semantic space that saves the object from criticism, leaves its qualities unproven, its performance untested, its motives unquestioned. Masterpiece is no longer an inexplicable fluke, a roll of the dice, but a consistent typology: its mission to intimidate, most of its exterior surfaces bent, huge percentages of its square footage dysfunctional, its centrifugal components barely held together by the pull of the atrium.”

    The avant-garde and cutting edge have become so commonplace. Every day a new iconic building replaces the last in the world lexicon of #architectureporn. Novelty feeds consumption and wastes our resources.

    “Junkspace is a look-no-hands world….”

    Stunts. Gimmicks. Turning Tricks.

     

    Neoliberalism, Consumption and Entertainment

     

    “Junkspace happens spontaneously through natural corporate exuberance – the unfettered play of the market – or is generated through the combined actions of temporary ‘czars’ with long records of three-dimensional philanthropy.”

    Speculation and development provide the world with what people think they want and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

    “Junkspace is political: it depends on the central removal of the critical faculty in the name of comfort and pleasure.”

    Neoliberalism feeds Junkspace’s growth and power as it spreads across the globe.

    “The chosen theater of megalomania – the dictatorial – is no longer politics, but entertainment. Through Junkspace, entertainment organizes hermetic regimes of ultimate exclusion and concentration: concentration gambling, concentration golf, concentration convention, concentration movie, concentration culture, concentration holiday.”

    The King of Junkspace controls all of these kingdoms – casinos, golf courses, hotels and resorts – and has used entertainment as a means of wielding political force. In 2017, Koolhaas’s architectural lamentation has become a prophecy of the rise of Donald Trump.