Design Concepts

 

Dear students, I have been thinking about your design concepts.

I hope you have been as well.

I have questions.  I hope these help you formulate and clarify your ideas, concept statements, and diagrams.

First of all, you have been assigned to design a lakefront ecology center, on a unique and dramatic lakefront site.  Given the site and the program.

·         How does your project REVEAL the nature of its place?

·         How does the design AMPLIFY ones understating of water ecology?  And address sustainable issues?

·         How does your design connect you to the lake?  PHSICALLY? EMOTIONALLY? POETICALLY?

·         How does your design make you more aware of the natural world, and ecological concerns?

·         How does the design address the specificities of its site?  The city? The view?  The natural world?  The transition, edge, or threshold?  How does it improve on the existing conditions?

I also have questions about the more practical design decisions that you have made.

·         How is your design organized? And Why?

·         How do you move to it?  Through it?

·         What are you trying to accomplish formally and aesthetically? What does it look like?  Why? And how does this relate to the site, the city, and issues of ecology?

Finally, you should be trying to design unique, authentic, and memorable spaces and places.

·         Does your project create a place for people?  Establish a sense of community?  Create a poetic connection to the natural world?   Allow for various types of uses (beyond the program)?  Function within the context of civic parkland?

·         Is it memorable?  How?

·         If Architecture is about experiencing space…..  How have you choreographed an experience through your project?

ARCHITECTURE IS EVERYWHERE

Recently, I spent some time with a few of my students exploring the Chicago Architecture Biennial.  I was impressed with the breadth of ideas being explored, the broad range of graphic communication strategies employed, and the often divergent positions presented on the ‘State of Architecture’ today.

While the biennial offers no shortage of sources for inspiration and discussion, I thought that I would start by focusing on just one exhibit, Sou Fujimoto’s Architecture Is Everywhere.  I couldn’t stop thinking about this particular exhibit, captivated by its simultaneous simplicity, humor, and depth.

At face value, Fujimoto’s installation is a simple trick.  He takes everyday objects, inserts tiny scale figures, and through the magic of a scale shift creates a humorous, architectural, spatial illusion.  The installation is playful and whimsical (which are not characteristics that usually speak to me).  It is easily comprehensible to both architects and non-architects alike.  One of my students thought the installation was a joke, and to some extent it could be read that way, but I feel that that there is quite a bit more substance than what might be initially apparent.

There is a kind of simple brilliance to the exhibit.  Fujimoto speaks to how architects see the world in a creative and spatial way.  He makes us look differently at commonplace objects, illustrating the architectural potential of the everyday world we live in.  His argument is that ‘Architecture is first found, and then made’.  As we observe these clever pairings of objects and statements, we might begin to imagine new architectural possibilities revealed in the things around us.  Furthermore, Fujimoto includes a simple, sometimes humorous, often provocative, statement with each model.  The text forces us to revisit the object from a conceptual point of view, challenging us to explore an architecture of ideas.

Looking differently at commonplace objects is, in fact, a very creative and ‘designerly’ thing to do.  In creative disciplines, we tend to look differently at the environments we inhabit, finding insight and inspiration in the process.  Recently, I finished a book by another Japanese designer, Kena Hara.  In it, Hara urges designers to “Rediscover the unknown in the familiar - extract ideas from the commonness of everyday lives.” 

By seeing the everyday anew, we find inspiration, and rediscover architectural potential.

 

 

 

Links:

Dezeen

Arch Daily

Curbed

Architects Newspaper

 

 

 

 

An Incomplete Manifesto for Growth

 

Ok, somehow, until very recently, I did not know this existed. 

I am not new to Bruce Mau's work, so how did I miss this? 
Regardless, it exists, and I am cataloging it here for future reference.

http://www.manifestoproject.it/bruce-mau/

10 Minute Party (PARTI)

I am going to try a new experiment in studio today. We are just beginning a design project for a lakefront ecology center.  The project has a significantly more complex design program that anything these students have been asked to tackle in previous projects.  It is a natural jump in complexity, however, I am getting the sense from the class that they are having trouble getting started, struggling to generate ideas.  My fear is that perhaps some of the students are intimidated by solving the problem, and have lost sight of what I really want them doing - exploring ideas and testing approaches. 

So with these challenges in mind, I am going to try an ideation exercise inspired by David Kelly’s book Creative Confidence. In Creative Confidence, Kelley discusses keys to “ideation and experimentation.”  This IDEO / d.School process includes tips for idea generation based on the notion of quantity over quality.  In other words, at the beginning of the design process, test a lot of ideas without worrying too much, at least initially, about developing the ‘ideal’ solution. 

This process includes:

• Generating countless ideas and consider many divergent options
• Advancing the promising ideas through iterative rounds
• Being quick and dirty – exploring a range of ideas without becoming too invested in only one

(Creative Confidence p.23)

Inspired by the book’s ’30 circles’ exercise, I am going to attempt my own version of this called the “10 minute party (parti)”.  I will to ask students to generate as many parti (organizing strategy) options for their project as the can in 10 minutes (generate at least 10).  I want them to ask”what if?” and generate a lot of possibilities.  Form this, hopefully they can then extract a few promising schemes to begin to advance, test and explore in a more rigorous manner. 

The premise is simple, if you are having trouble generating 1 or 2 good ideas, start with 20 ideas.  If you want to generate innovative ideas - you need to start with more ideas.  

POSTSCRIPT

Pinning up the Parti Diagramming Exercise

We collectively generated several hundred parti / concept options in about 15 minutes.  I think it loosened up the studio and got students thinking quickly and exploring options more freely.  At least a few of the students came up with some fairly compelling ideas to pursue.   More than a few students found a third or fourth option to explore for this first design study.  I will continue to experiment with these types of brainstorming design activities.

On Making (Design as Exploration)

Recently, Thomas Heatherwick’s book Making caught my eye sitting on my office shelf.  (Ok, actually I was procrastinating, avoiding grading student projects, and I may have been looking for something to distract me.  I had already cleaned out a few desk drawers, so naturally I turned my attention to my bookshelf!)

 

Anyway, I picked up Heatherwick’s book and began to read the introduction.  In it he describes his studio’s design process, and the following caught my attention. 

“We iteratively pare a project back in successive rounds of discussions, through analysis, questioning, testing, experimentation, and interrogation, looking for the logic that will lead to an idea.”

Tomorrow, my students will begin experimenting with their first design studies for a building project in the studio.  By now, the students are well aware that I am obsessed with their design process.  They are already likely getting tired of hearing me talk about “process”.  This quote, though, really resonated with me.  It is exactly the mentality I am trying to instill in the studio.  

An attitude that design is process.

An iterative process...

of testing,

experimenting,

questioning,

interrogating (the project, the site, themselves),

and ultimately working toward a design concept that is rich and meaningful.

I want my students to be slow to solve the design problem, to think deeply, explore alternatives and ask questions.  And I want them to take this skill with them on to their next studio. 

CONCEPT: The what, why, and how?

 

In my studio courses, when communicating design concepts, I ask my students to think about the WHAT?, WHY?, and HOW?  If students can both intellectually explore, and then communicate the answers to these three questions, they will be well on their way to a project with a solid design concept.

WHAT?  What is the big idea?  What is the thesis?  What are you doing? What are you trying to accomplish? What is your design an exploration of?

This is often the easiest of the three for students to address.  Most of the time, I find that my students are able to tell me what they are trying to accomplish in their work.

WHY?  Why is this exploration necessary, relevant, or important to explore? 

This is a little bit trickier, as not all concepts are necessarily worthy ideas.  As a designer, communicating what you are doing is one thing, but understanding why it matters in another.  This requires students to question their own ideas, and challenge their initial assumptions, on their way to an understanding of why the design exploration is worthwhile.

HOW?  How is this being explored, specifically, through your work?  How does the design address the concept?  How do you attempt to explore the concept through the design moves you have made?

In other words, HOW does the concept drive the design decisions of the project?

From 101 Things I Learned in Architecture School by Matthew Frederick

 

Stretching Limits: Designing outside of the box.

Today is the first day of classes, and as I sit here anticipating the first studio class of the new academic year, I cannot help but reflect on my goals for this new group of architectural design students that I am about to meet.

At the beginning of the fall term, I often show a documentary video by Michael Apted titled Inspirations.  In this documentary, Apted profiles 7 artists from various disciplines who each discuss the creative process. At the end of film, each shares advice for creativity, and one of my favorite quotes comes from David Bowie.

“If you feel safe in the area you are working, then you are not working in the right area.  Always go a little further into the water than you feel capable of.  Go a little bit out of your depth and when you don’t feel your feet quite touching the bottom you’re just in the right place to do something exciting” David Bowie

I was thinking about this quote recently as I completed a design competition entry at the end of the summer.  As I prepared an image for the Chicago Architectural Club’s “Currencies of Architecture” competition, I was reminded of the value of working outside of one’s comfort zone.  This is not the type of design completion I usually am attracted to.  I prefer competitions that have a limited scope, allowing me to design an architectural object where I can get into the details and produce a well-developed, conceptually sound, piece of architecture.  This particular competition is not that at all!  Currencies of Architecture calls on participants to produce a single image addressing the state of architecture today.  What does that even mean?  This project is highly conceptual and completely open ended in terms of the manner in which participants can approach the design – which makes me a little bit more that uncomfortable. 

I was uneasy about how to approach the work, and I am still creatively unsure about my own submission.  If you are interested, you can view the project here.  The point of this post, however, is not about my own work per se, but the value in stretching limits.  For me, this competition was a reminder of the importance (and difficulty) of pushing our own creative boundaries.  There is incredible creative value in stretching your own limits as a designer, but it is also REALLY hard to do.

All of this brings me back to the first day of studio, as I am about to assign a conceptual, open ended project for my students to tackle.  Part of my job, especially in a sophomore studio, is to push students beyond their own preconceptions of what they think Architecture is.  I am supposed to encourage my students to work outside of their own comfort zones.  My job is to encourage my students to design ‘outside of the box’, meaning that I want students to push themselves, explore, and think about their own work as having new and exciting possibilities.  And if / when they struggle with this, I am newly reminded that this is also ok, as it is just as difficult for me at times to push beyond my own comfort zone. 

Most things that are really worth pursuing in your creative career are difficult, and therefore of value.

Good luck to all who are beginning a new academic year…. and I am wearing my David Bowie socks today for luck…

 

Reverse Critique

This post is another installment in my series of observations about teaching techniques that I have experimented with in my design studio.

This week is final review week in the studio. Watching students frantically work to pull their final presentations together has gotten me thinking about something I tried earlier this semester, the reverse critique.

As the idiom goes, turnabout is fair play.

 

Pearson presentation pin-up

This semester I had been working on a competition entry for the Chicago Biennial Lakefront Kiosk design competition.  I decided to take one studio class and turn the tables – I would present my design project to the students and they would critique my creative work.

The concept of the reverse critique is a not a new idea.  I have heard about this technique being implemented in design studio courses at other institutions, but it was not something that I have experimented with myself, until now.  Here are a few observations from this activity.

NERVES AND EMPATHY

I spent some time mentally rehearsing my presentation before the class, and I was actually a bit nervous in anticipation.  This surprised me because, well, I am the professor.  I get up in front of this same group of students each day and talk about things.  What was different this time?  The big difference was that I was presenting my own creative work.  It is like baring a little bit of your soul as a designer, to get up in front of an audience, and reveal your creative process. 

This reminds me of the importance of empathy for the task ahead of my students this week.  If I was even slightly nervous standing up and discussing my own work, how must they feel, as sophomores in architecture school, being asked to get up in front of professional architects who are poised and ready to criticize. 

For the students, this is a necessary and important part of an architectural education, learning to articulate and defend their creative work.  This is a skill that they must have as a future professional, and they will continue to improve in their ability to conceptualize and discuss their work as they progress through architecture school.  That doesn’t necessarily mean that it ever gets easy to present creative work, and as the instructor, it is sometimes too easy for me to forget the nerves and pressure of a final review presentation.  The reverse crit was a good reminder, and gives me much needed perspective as an instructor.

MODELING

The primary reason I tried this activity in the class was to model (or demonstrate) the type of performance that I want my students to engage in.  I wanted them to see how I approached the presentation, how I organized content and articulated ideas, and MOST IMPORTANTLY how I received critical feedback.  I try to find moments in my studio class where I can model professional behavior.   This was a good teaching opportunity to demonstrate how to participate in the ‘design dialog’ of a final presentation.

I addition to the manner in which I presented the work, the work itself becomes an example of sorts.  I took some time at the end of the critique to discuss how I approached the presentation, in particular the graphic decisions I made as a designer that specifically attempt to amplify the concept and tell the story of the design.  We talk a lot about story telling and articulating concepts in the studio, and the reverse critique was an opportunity to demonstrate these ideas firsthand through actual work.

SELF CRITICISM

I received good feedback about my work from the students.  They made some very valid and critical comments about the project.  They were probably too nice to me actually, but I am still the person giving them grades, and it is difficult to completely reverse the existing power dynamic. 

At this point in their education, my students are generally better at giving critical feedback to others than they are at being reflective and self critical about their own work.  This is to be expected, and yet through this reverse critique I hope that they begin to see that the ability to critically analyze someone else’s work is also an essential component of their own design process – a skill they will begin to master as they continue to mature as designers.

PROCESS SKETCHING (The Thinking Hand)

Sketchbook pages from a recent design project.



I require my students to keep (and use) a sketchbook as a part of their design process.  It is not always the most beloved class activity, and I am sure some of the students view this as an archaic requirement.

I want my students to draw, doodle, dream, explore ideas, visualize, conceptualize, test and then REPEAT.  The sketchbook is an ideal medium for this fluid design exploration process – especially in the beginning of a project when the design is much less defined, and open to interrogation.  Some might (and have) question the validity of this approach in our digitally minded age.

Recently, to raise this discussion in my studio courses, I had my students read a portion of Juhani Pallasmaa’s book, The Thinking Hand.  In it, the renowned Finnish architect, academic, and theoretician makes a strong case for drawing and sketching.  Pallasamaa argues that sketching is both a haptic and spatial exercise, connecting act of drawing by hand to the mental and cognitive functions arise while drawing.  “As I sketch the contour of an object…..I actually touch and feel the surface of the subject of my attention.”   This connection between the mind and the hand (hence the title The Thinking Hand) is what interests me.  Can I more effectively teach students architectural visualization skills by forcing them to work with their hands?  I’m not sure, but in my studio we draw, and we build a lot of large physical models, because I believe that this is the most effective way to teach students to ‘see’ their design work.

This is not a critique of the computer per se, and I am certainly no technophobe.  However, when it comes to teaching young students to see and imagine a design not yet built, there seems to me to be a powerful connection between thinking and working with your hands.  As Pallasmaa argues “In fact, every act of sketching and drawing produces three different sets of images: the drawing that appears on the paper, the visual image recorded in my cerebral memory, and a muscular memory of the act of drawing.”

Perhaps in a few years, as tablets and sketching apps continue to evolve, this argument will become moot.  Until then, the connection between thought and drawing is the reason I want my students to sketch.  I want them to visualize their design work in a more informed, intentional, and nuanced manner.  Pallasmaa echoes these same sentiments, “When sketching an imagined space, or an object being designed, the hand is in a direct and delicate collaboration and interplay with mental imagery.  The image arises simultaneously with an internal mental image and the sketch mediated by the hand.” 

Why do I want my students to sketch more?  Because I want them to THINK more (and think more carefully) about their work.

Sketching (and the art of stillness)

I am probably the worst blogger ever.  Several times each year (admittedly sometimes less), I get an urge to use this forum as a means to explore an idea, or develop a thought that has been rattling around in my brain.  Then I return to completely ignoring my blog, until the next time the urge strikes.  None the less, blogging gives me this (occasional) opportunity to play with ideas and jot down thoughts. 

This post certainly falls into this category of ‘ideas to play with’ in the future.

Over this past winter break (yes, as an educator I have that luxury) I read the short TED book, The Art of Stillness, by Pico Iyer.  In it, Iyer argues for stillness in our distracted, fast paced world.  As a renowned travel writer, Iyer is surprisingly advocating for going nowhere.  By stepping back and doing nothing, one can become more attentive, and more introspective.  Being alone, being still, taking time to simply be present with our own thoughts, according to Iyer, is a means for happiness in our ever stressful contemporarily existence. 

“In an age of speed, I began to think, nothing could be more invigorating than going slow.  In an age of distraction, nothing could feel more luxurious than paying attention.  And in an age of constant movement, nothing is more urgent than sitting still” Pico Iyer. 

 Iyer has a TED talk on the same topic.

 

So how exactly does this relate to sketching?  I am not exactly sure, but for some reason I found myself thinking about sketching while reading this beautiful short book.  Sketching, for an architect, is about observation.  Learning to sketch is essentially learning to see.  It requires singular concentration and focus.  This is exactly why so many of my students dislike the activity, because it is hard to sketch and simultaneously multitask on a mobile device.  Sketching forces one to sit still, be present, observe, and record.

Over the past few years I have, on occasion, brought my sketchbook with me on visits to downtown Chicago.  Some of these sketches (illustrated throughout this essay) were created during class trips with my students, others were drawn by myself during the rare occasion that I could carve out some time.  On class trips, I have used these sketches to model the types of drawings that I would like to see my students work to achieve.  These sketches are not beautiful works of art, nor are the meant to be.  They do, however, fulfill me in a way I cannot justly describe.  When I am sketching, time simply stands still.  I become completely immersed in the act of drawing.  It is both invigorating and refreshing, a mental break from all the chaos.

 

So I begin to think, for us architects, maybe what we really need is to learn to observe.  Sitting still, in one place, sketching and observing – makes us more aware.  This awareness (of our inner self for Iyer, and of the build environment for me) might just be the antidote to our distracted lives.

 

Perhaps in our hyper-connected, everywhere at once, image saturated existence - what we really need is to sit in one place, and sketch.