VOLUME 18
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VOLUME 18
Our eighteenth volume of 3198 marks the beginning of Anderson Mason Dale’s 50th year in practice. Before we dive into our ponderings of the future, I wanted to take a moment to express gratitude to those incredible leaders who audaciously founded and shepherded our firm through decades of practice across so many social, political and economic transmutations. Thank you for your persistence, resilience and grit. As we usher in 2025, we at AMD have much for which to be optimistic – meaningful projects to lean into, substantive pursuits on the horizon, a refreshed brand and identity, and most of all an incredibly dynamic, inquisitive studio team.
As I look around, this sense of optimism is not ubiquitous; I have been struck, over these last months and years, by the strangely convergent restless energy communities of most unlikely affinity seem to be sharing. Whether political institutions, faith-based communities, climate activists, civil rights advocates, Hollywood, Silicon Valley, conservationists, health and wellness leaders, event science fiction communities, the images and narratives of the future consistently present stark allegorical warnings of the status quo’s inevitable suffering and devastation. In Hollywood alone, we see the future through the lens of Dune, The Handmaid’s Tale, Civil War, Don’t Look Up, and Leave the World Behind. Across some of the most firmly drawn dividing lines in our society, we all seem to hold one common belief, we believe that our shared future is perilous. We come to this from very different points of departure. Still, as a result, so much discourse, both virtuous and disingenuous, advocates incremental defensive actions endeavoring to bend the long arc of social and cultural momentum away from a future we fear or are skeptical of. Intuitively, a list of things we should not do, pursue or entertain may result.
This seems all too deeply human. It is a lot easier for me to say no to that delicious Manhattan or mouth-watering vanilla cake if I have a trip to Santorini on the horizon than it is as an expression of discipline and virtue in pursuit of an incrementally better uncertain future.
Shaping a more meaningful sense of the future relies on collective action, and in a culture of profound diversity and tension, collective action can easily remain diffuse and disoriented when deployed preventatively or remedially. How might we reconstitute a sense of collective action that embraces Action? Can we build a supply-side futurism? As architects, we are part of a long tradition of futurism, whether Sant’Elia’s Station for Trains and Airplanes, Wright’s Broadacre City, LeCorbusier’s Radiant City, Fuller’s Dymaxion projects, Archigram’s Plug-In City. History and hindsight often judge each skeptically as literal propositions for a future world. Their true value, however, is perhaps less in their particular physical manifestations, but in their ability to amplify, galvanize and precipitate some sense of collective belief or value system in a compelling future. At least as a thought experiment, I see great value in this moment of tumult and uncertainty, to give ourselves space and grace to contemplate a future we want and believe in, as opposed to one we’d like to prevent – and if reverberant enough – a future that might inspire exponential incremental efforts in its pursuit.
I want to sincerely thank our brave contributors to this issue for leaning into their sense of belief and wonder. As always, I want to thank our 3198 committee for their behind-the-scenes efforts to carry our upstart journal forward. And in the spirit of bravely chasing an uncertain future, I wanted to thank and recognize Kirsten for her many, many contributions to 3198 as well as more broadly across our studio. We at 3198 will miss you dearly.
Thank you again and here’s to a fruitful, inspiring 2025.
Ben Blanchard
2024 AIA Western Mountain Region College of Fellow Inaugural Awards
Happy New Year AMD!
Design Friday Recap / Future Forward
Yogurt of the Future
Mia Torrence
Mexico City: Case Studies in Future Forward Architecture
Stephan Tate Hall
The Intimacy of Place Deona Florenca
Stewardship of Colorado’s Natural Resources
Aspen Distillers at AIA Colorado Design and Practice Conference
Future Forward Sketches Zach Sherrod
Anderson Mason Dale was honored with three awards at the inaugural Western Mountain Region College of Fellows design award program which celebrates the best architectural designs and service achievements from AlA members and projects in Arizona, Colorado, Idaho, Montana, New Mexico, Nevada, Utah, and Wyoming.
United States Olympic & Paralympic Museum and Park Union Bridge
2024 AIA COF WMR HONOR AWARD
The United States Olympic & Paralympic Museum and the adjoining Park Union Bridge are a tribute to the Olympic and Paralympic movements, with Team USA athletes at the center of the experience. The museum features interactive galleries, a state-of-the-art theater, event space, and a café in a dynamic spiraling form that allows visitors to descend the galleries on one continuous path. The new pedestrian and bicycle bridge restores important connections that are helping reinvigorate long-neglected urban precincts.
Anschutz Health Sciences Building, University of Colorado Anschutz
2024 AIA COF WMR MERIT AWARD
The Anschutz Health Sciences Building furthers the University’s trajectory as one of the leading medical care, translational research, and educational facilities in the world. The new building serves as a programmatic and physical health sciences hub of interdisciplinary and interprofessional scholarship. Academic, research, clinical care, and auxiliary functions are integrated into one building within a dedicated campus research zone, eliminating campus silos in favor of collaboration, achieved through a central atrium that connects building users and functions.
Chimney Rock National Monument Visitor Center 2024 AIA COF WMR MERIT AWARD
Chimney Rock National Monument (CRNM) is located in Archuleta County in southwestern Colorado encompassing 4,726 acres. CRNM is a treasure in the public lands system, containing spiritual, historical, and scientific resources of great value and significance. The new Visitor Center frames the dramatic landscape for visiting patrons, including a new arrival entry and roadway into the premises, visitor parking, a pedestrian promenade, bus shuttle shelters, restrooms, a contact station, and an outdoor classroom. The plaza and shade structure creates a precise entry sequence and furnishes a clear frame for the Chimney Rock Monument. Connecting indoor and outdoor spaces is a dominant design driver for the new Visitor Center, enabling access and connection to the site’s resources.
@ 3198
On October 18th, AMDers gathered in the Mason Bay for Design Friday, where we discussed the forthcoming 3198 theme (this volume): Future Forward.
In the last year, our studio has used the word “refresh” regularly and specifically to describe our new branding efforts. The word has optimistic connotations, suggesting renewal, rejuvenation, and revitalization. It implies freshness and a sense of anticipation. With all that lies ahead in the next few months, Volume 18 of 3198 will be a Futurefocused and Forward-looking issue. AMD staff explored their aspirations, concerns and hopes for the potential of the design community, the profession, and our studio. The response was thoughtful and diverse.
GRAHAM ODEN
I think this diagram, or at least the top portion of it, is familiar to us on many levels. In the context of habitat and ecosystem, fragmentation is a natural process when fire prunes forests, water carves channels, and continents drift and separate. As designers, we have the responsibility to consider this lower half of the diagram (already being explored by designers and planners) as it relates to Anthropogenic Fragmentation of habitat (relevant at all species scales a project could impact). After all, forests can regrow, rivers diverge, and continents collide; why shouldn’t we repair.
What possibilities and opportunities can arise when working with our landscape architects, consultants, and in-house teams to mitigate this addressable consequence of development?
02 GILLIAN JOHNSON
For me, a future-forward language of design is the emphasis of “we” over “me.” A re-focus on communal spaces that bring people together in appreciation of each other and educate them about humanity.
03 STEPHAN HALL
How is AI finding its way into our contemporary design dialogue? In our practice? Across the profession?
What if everyone had equal access to serene green space to support mental wellness? What if we kept trashed items that were helpful and trashed kept items that were harmful? How might indoor and outdoor “wasteland” residential spaces be repurposed to function for their inhabitants? Do serene spaces require the high dollar and time investment that designers, media and marketers convey?
IAN MADDOCK
Downtown Denver Revitalization / The Economics of the Tax Incremental Finance (TIF) District
MIA TORRENCE
My vision for the future relies on a Chobani yogurt commercial. The 2021 short video, “Dear Alice”, shows a potential future where society has a mutually beneficial relationship with the environment. Created by animation and art studio The Line, the advertisement was part of a campaign by Chobani to brand themselves as sustainable, people-first, and future-forward. The imagery and narrative of the video are compelling, and I recommend you watch it now. As we enter the second quarter of the 21st century, and AMD enters its 50th year, it seems like a good time to reflect on what exactly we want our future to look like. After re-discovering Chobani’s ad recently, I was reminded of how inspiring it is to have a hopeful vision for the future, and the world created in the video
provides a template for this vision. If you haven’t seen it, the ad goes through a simple day in a futuristic society, where advanced-looking technology harvests Earth’s renewable energy alongside happy farm-to-table families. Growing up in the era of climate change, and studying the built environment in university, I’ve often felt burnt out by the endless narrative that humans are killing the environment and our future is filled with climate disasters. Chobani’s ad, and the alternate future it represents, gives me the energy to hope for a less dire future.
This ad was my first introduction to the Solarpunk movement, a concept that takes inspiration from both Cyberpunk (futuristic and technocratic) and Steampunk (nostalgic and alternate energy-based) aesthetics. A Solarpunk
society uses renewable resources through futuristic technology and questions a capital-driven economy. Chobani’s ad is compelling because it beautifully depicts a holistic Solarpunk future, and makes it actually seem possible. Rather than pitting technology and by extension, humankind, against nature, the short video has the two working in harmony to provide for everyone. We all want to envision this future, but it is often overshadowed by the more “realistic” predictions of climate disasters and social unrest typically seen in popular media. Solarpunk aesthetics and ideas provide an alternative future to hope for.
Around the same time I watched the “Dear Alice” ad for the first time, I also discovered researcher Julia Watson’s work, specifically her book Lo-TEK: Design by Radical Indigenism.
Lo-TEK.
DESIGN BY RADICAL INDIGENISM
Julia Watson
Enter Lo—TEK, a design movement building on indigenous philosophy and vernacular infrastructure to generate sustainable, resilient, nature-based technology. Spanning 18 countries from Peru and the Philippines to Tanzania and Iran, this book explores millennia-old human ingenuity on how to live in symbiosis with nature.
Unlike a far-off future where we rely on technology to get started, the ideas that Watson has compiled in her book are thousands of years old and have functioned throughout that time. Lo-TEK compiles engineering and design techniques from Indigenous cultures around the world. It outlines how the design works, how it is incorporated with local ecology, and how this technology is embedded in the community’s culture. The name takes “lo-tech” as an antithesis to “high-tech”, and combines it with a term for the knowledge held by Indigenous groups: Traditional Ecological Knowledge, or TEK. In architecture, we often focus on the latest and greatest technology, engineering our buildings to be highly responsive and “smart”. In her book, Julia Watson argues that we don’t need high-level technology for a sustainable future,
STILL FROM DEAR ALICE
The Line Studio
and we should learn from Indigenous techniques native to the ecology we are designing in. These techniques can be higher performing and more resilient than the smart technology we are universally embedding in our buildings.
So what if we use these two concepts to their own mutual advantage? The Solarpunk movement can use the native and place-based designs that Lo-TEK promotes, while Lo-TEK designs can use Solarpunk techniques to align with modern or future technology and scale up in size. There are just a few discrepancies between the two paradigms that must be considered.
To start, the two view (electronic-based) technology differently: Solarpunk relies on not-yet-invented tech that is almost infinitely more efficient and responsive than today’s, while Lo-TEK systems reject modern technology and the exploitative systems accompanying it. An example: Solarpunk societies, unsurprisingly given the name, rely on solar power for pretty much everything. They have smart screens and monitors on every agricultural plot, and in the case of Chobani’s ad, a flying school bus which is presumably powered by the massive wind turbines in the background of the shot. Although solar-, wind- and hydro-power
“What if we created a future for ourselves that was full of optimism and positivity? This was the starting point for our 2D animated film for Chobani.” Watch the full video: https://thelinestudio.com/work/chobani
have come a long way in the past few years, we are not at the point of levitating vehicles from clean energy alone (or at all). The Lo-TEK book, on the other hand, claims, “the destructive one-size-fits-all approach of high-tech heralds a homogeneity and uniformity that fundamentally counters the heterogeneity and natural complexity of ecosystems”. Clearly the two do not agree on the reliance our future might have on technology. However, Lo-TEK can provide a template for the smart technology we are waiting for. The designs are already sustainable and clearly functional, after all, they have thousands of years of development behind them. Smart e-technology can help adapt these systems to other areas, or monitor their output to determine the ecological threshold for each ecosystem they are implemented in. Solarpunk can start happening here and now, without waiting for a future technology to be invented first. Communities can build off of Lo-TEK
designs to create more efficient and resilient systems that will adapt alongside future technologies. For example, the water mill in the “Dear Alice” advertisement appears to monitor energy output as it turns. According to Watson’s Lo-TEK research, Persian qanats are a type of underground aqueduct that transports water below several kilometers of desert for agricultural irrigation. These qanats have been integral to Persian farmers’ ability to persist through droughts and have been engineered over time to be as efficient as possible. The maintenance of existing qanats is embedded in the cultural and social structure of local groups, as is water use management once it exits the qanats. A solarpunk / lo-TEK hybrid might implement hydropower into the already established qanats, with electronic sensors monitoring output, water quality, or even the structural integrity of the underground tunnels. The qanat infrastruc-
ture is already in place and operating at high efficiency, and solarpunk techniques could help this technology scale up or provide even more services than it already is.
The two concepts also have different perspectives on time. Lo-TEK tends to look backward, at the rich tradition of these technologies and how they have become interwoven into a group’s cultural practices over generations. It also highlights the growing scarcity of these techniques and the urgency to preserve them in an age of globalization and colonization. Solarpunk, alternatively, looks to the future, casting aside the problematic systems of today entirely to start anew. Both provide valuable perspectives on our current built environment, but they cannot exist in a vacuum. We need to recall the resiliency of Lo-TEK designs and how they have withstood past climate changes, without relegating Indigenous culture to history. We can shape Solarpunk landscapes after the stewardship of former environments that might otherwise be forgotten. To take the water mill / qanat example from earlier, solarpunk technology could be incorporated into the social standards that currently regulate qanat
Excerpt from LOT-TEK
“Today’s solution to water scarcity in the Middle East as been the continuous construction of new dams with pipes. As a result, ancient sustainable innovation like the qanat are being forgotten.”
CONSTRUCTION OF A QANAT
Excerpt from LOT-TEK
water use. These social contracts are already tied to qanats’ physical structure: often a bowl with a small hole in the bottom is located at each qanat well and used to time a person’s water usage. Qanats are also unique in that they release water back to the aquifer at their ends. Both the social contract and this renewable component of qanats could help prevent high-tech solarpunk gadgets from perpetuating an extractive economy if they are incorporated into this pre-existing infrastructure. Ideally, solarpunk technology would also show that qanats are both an established and modern alternative to diesel-powered wells which are currently replacing qanats in Iran.
The last question I have for these two ideas is about where all this designing and future-envisioning is coming from. Lo-TEK highlights Indigenous designs and centers Traditional Ecological Knowledge. However, is there a point in which learning from these designs and using them becomes exploitative? In this situation, are Indigenous communities collaborators, teachers, or a resource for outsiders to use? I don’t know the answers to these questions, but I believe it’s important to consider them carefully before we add another burden to these communities. Regarding Solarpunk, the movement is based on anti-capitalism and community self-sufficiency. But my first exposure to the movement and the example I have primarily cited in this article is an advertisement for a corporation in the commercial food industry. Is “Dear Alice” a bold and thoughtful portrayal of
a future we can build together? Or is it another example of corporate green-washing, this time set to a Studio Ghibli-style soundtrack? I hope it’s the former, but again it’s necessary to consider carefully whose vision of the future we are creating, and what the costs are to other groups. Once more, I think the two can help each other out with these thorny questions. Lo-TEK and Indigenous collaboration can hold Solarpunk visionaries accountable for what the development of their vision actually means, for real, marginalized people who are living and working today. And corporations’ widespread, mainstream depictions of a hopeful, diverse, and regenerative future can help Lo-TEK projects gain momentum and move with urgency to the future.
Both Lo-TEK and Solarpunk ideas have great potential to help us, as designers, create a caring and regenerative world. I believe that the two paradigms can make each other both stronger and more attainable. Both ideas are hopeful and full of empathy, which are too often in short supply when we imagine a climate crisis-based future. Social and environmental injustice will not be solved easily, but I believe by collectively imagining resilient and hopeful futures, we can create them. And as a designer, Lo-TEK design and Solarpunk yogurt commercials are two tools I’d like to use to create that future.
Case Studies in Future Forward Architecture
STEPHAN TATE HALL
As architects, we are tasked with anticipating and creating anew; exploring and leading the execution of new outcomes in our physical environments. Our work is, by many measures, future-forward – a moniker inherent to our architectural design process. We invite our clients, partners, and colleagues to imagine a better world and to face challenges head-on, no matter how small or large, by honoring and reflecting upon our present reality, harnessing past lessons learned to create that which the world has not seen before. At our best, we do not simply recreate or repeat that which exists; at the same time, we must build upon the threads of history and context. Future Forward is a driving force at Anderson Mason Dale and is often the driving force behind other architects we admire and revere. We push ourselves and our clients to not merely accept the status quo. Instead, we offer a deep exploration of the potential for new realities within existing contexts, tight budgets, and diverse client opinions.
One of the most salient ways in which we attempt to get our arms around this incredibly challenging task is through travel and the experience of new places. Travel is not just a leisure activity, but an opportunity to expand our own beliefs in what is possible. It is an opportunity to ask, “What if?” and find inspiration, imagining ways in which we can enrich our own projects and communities.
The following pages are a brief window into two projects in Mexico City, where I had the pleasure of touring over Thanksgiving in 2024. Both projects below are stunning in their own right, each offering a specific lens into the future-forward mindset of the architects, builders, and civic leaders that created them. Both projects are aspirational, and each has a fundamental proposition and parti that is courageous and self-evident. Each project operates at a dramatically different scale, in different contexts, and with vastly different programs, but each achieves a unique experience that is unquestionably future-forward. Moreover, these projects remind us that to be future-forward means we must be brave, it means we must generate clear and strong architectural propositions, and we must craft our buildings with care and with the highest attention to detail.
Architect
Rafael Ponce
Owner Ciudad De Mexico
Size 2,000 Sq. Meters (21,000 SF)
Site 101,000 Sq Meters (23 Acres)
Year 2023
*Photo Credit: Erre q Erre Arquitectura | Urbanismo
Programmed as an interactive museum and education center in Mexico City’s Chapultepec Park, the project is located in the heart of its cultural and museum district. The building is subservient to the surrounding landscape, with its radial floor plan and site plan standing apart while clearly responding to the existing lakes and park setting. The building, along with the surrounding gardens and landscapes, offers educational programming and exhibits—collectively serving as a call to action to protect and preserve Mexico City’s delicate natural environment, with a focus on Chapultepec’s tremendous diversity as an urban forest and park.
1 Paseo del Bosque
Paseo Lacustre
Paseo del Pastizal
Paseo del Pedregal 5 Paseo Agroecológico
Paseo del Lago
Zona de Pastizales
Zona de Humedales
Jardín de Lluvia
Humedal en Isla 12 Humedal en Isla
Zona Bosque Templado
Zona de Pedregal
Zona Agroecológica 16 Plaza de Encuentro 17 Plaza de Comtemplación y Convivencia 18 Foro del Lago
19 Acceso al Museo de Historia Natural 20 Plaza de las Garzas
Área de Composta
The center features a forum and exhibition space, as well as thematic gardens that represent various landscapes of the greater Valley of Mexico. The center includes wetlands, five ethnobotanical gardens, and a pavilion for exhibition space.
The project created 101,000 square meters of gardens and planted more than 1,000 trees.
The building forms a singular crescent-shape with a semi-conical roof. Its simple structural logic and exposed steel elements belie the perceived complexity of its form, giving the relatively small building the feeling of an expansive monument woven into and embedded in the landscape. From a distance, the building feels grounded and even appears to be buried into the terrain—it seems like a natural part of the
landscape and park setting. However, as one approaches, the opaque façade lifts to reveal its porosity.
The black volcanic stone roof is inspired by the volcanic landscape of the Pedregal region in the Mexican Valley. This volcanic stone not only celebrates local materials but also allows for a lighter structural frame.
The building’s statement and purpose are clear: the future forward is to protect and honor our local landscapes and ecologies.
1 Foro al aire libre
2 Vestíbulo de acceso
3 Zona de exposiciones permanentes
4 Zona de exposiciones temporales
5 Librería
6 Cafetería
12 Sanitarios
13 Cuarto de máquinas
14 Oficinas
15 Sanitario
16 Bodega
16 Patio de maniobras
Architect Alberto Kalach
Owner Ciudad De Mexico
Size 38,091 Sq. Meters (409,000 SF)
Year 2007
*Photo Credits: Inio Bujedo Aguirre, Maria Gonzalez; Taller De Arquitectura Alberto Kalach
The project was commissioned through an international competition – the winning concept of Alberto Kalach - paired building with a botanical garden. The building is screened from its dense urban context, as if swallowed by the surrounding gardens. Reinforcing the role of the urban library as a place of serenity, focus, quiete, respite and knowledge – open and accessible all. It is not until you enter the grand atrium that its massive scale is revealed. Deep horizontal sunshades stretch across the façade, along with north-facing sawtooth roof forms, shielding the interior spaces from direct sunlight while still allowing ample natural light to pour in. The architect describes the building’s floor plan as
“a map of the library, supporting a choreography of knowledge that reflects human desire to both understand and organize space and vast amounts of content.”
Its massive scale is hard to comprehend initially, which seems very much the point of the building. It takes 5 to 8 minutes to walk the full length of the building, which spans a quarter mile, while its width remains a consistent 180 feet. The library’s collections are displayed throughout, suspended on steel shelving and traversed by glass floors. It feels as if you have stepped into an alternative future, where the digital world has transformed back into its analogue counterpart. The building is a translation of the digital age into a monumental structure—essentially, the physical manifestation of the internet reimagined in human-scaled space, offering seemingly infinite quantities of knowledge at one’s disposal. The experience in person is awe-inspiring.
In an increasingly digital world, there is a yearn for moments of real physical environments that contain depth, soul, and a genuine sense of place. It is this desire to be a part of something that shifts perspectives and replaces reality for a moment. What does it mean for architecture and nature to live in pure harmony? If we take away from landscape, we must put back. We do not always know what to put back, but we must be careful what we put back. Norwegian Architect, Author, Educator, and Architectural Theorist - Christian Norberg- Schulz said,
“[Humans] want to make the natural structure more precise. That is, he wants to visualize his “understanding” of nature, “expressing” the existential foothold he has gained. To achieve this, he builds what he has seen. Where nature suggests a delimited space, he builds an enclosure; where nature appears “centralized,” he erects a Mal; where nature indicates a direction, he makes a path.”
In September 2022, I received a grant through AIA New York called the Stewardson Keefe Lebrun Travel Grant. With my intended research and as an extension of my graduate thesis, I was able to visit 29 of the Norwegian Scenic Route Rest Stops. If you are not familiar with them, this is a project that started in Norway to promote tourism that highlighted the county’s vast landscape. The Norwegian Scenic Routes consists of 18 selected roads that hold over 175 different rest stops that consist of art, viewpoints, restroom facilities, etc. These rest areas are designed by local architects in Norway and some more famous architects such as Peter Zumthor. While investigating the Norwegian Scenic Route’s rest areas, the research consisted of the ways architecture serves as a force that transpires emotional interactions with the built and natural environment and the way it creates place along the Scenic Routes.
Each site was chosen for its integration of nature and architecture while seeing the feasibility of seeing these sites during a 40-day period. While visiting each one of these rest areas, I took
note of the weather, time, and how many individuals were there, how long they were there and how they interacted with the architectural moment. Then after visiting each selected site, I would journal about them. I wrote my observations about the architecture/art, materials, the interactions, how long people tend to stay at each site, the views that were created, etc.
There was so much beauty in the interactions with the rest areas. There were times where I would be at a site for hours and see only one or two people, and then there were other times where there would be multiple people coming and going from the site. There were even sites that no one was visiting at the moment, but it left the architecture there to just dwell and be its own moment surrounded by the stunning landscape. These rest areas give individuals a reason to stop their car, get out, and be in nature. It gives them a place to sit, an opening to observe, a table to eat, etc.
highlights our senses, that is the formation of place. With these rest areas, we, as designers, need to think about the force that is going to pull individuals out of their normal routine and off the road to encourage them to park and be a part of the architecture.
To further expand on what it means to dwell, Heidegger talks about this idea of being in the world – Being involved with things is the way that we interact with the world – Being a part of a bench or standing on a platform. Dwelling is the purpose of architecture. The way one uses each rest area is based on their idea of what dwelling is to them.
There were even sites that no one was visiting at the moment, but it left the architecture there to just dwell and be its own moment surrounded by the stunning landscape.
With our everyday routine, we find ourselves in a route that might take us from being always placed in a natural environment that causes us to heal and be a part of nature. Place is part of our everyday experience. When we find moment in which we want to stay or a moment in which
The use and time at each one of these sites are constantly changing as the world is changing.
Even the rest areas are constantly changing – they are ambient in nature just like we as humans are. We do not give purpose by just visiting. We give purpose to the architecture by providing a motion of interaction to the framework in which the architecture was designed. Heidegger says that “Man dwells when he experiences the environment as meaningful”. Norberg Schultz says this term of dwelling speaks to the meaning of having an interaction of materials, feelings, and ideas to make a multitude of
possibilities. Finally, it means to bring a sense of being oneself within the world.
These rest areas are art that bring people together, bring people to learn, bring people to experience reflection in nature. The use is proof of that. Heidegger states, “We do not dwell because we have built, but we build and have built because we dwell, that is, because we are dwellers”
I want to highlight a few of the rest areas that taught me something unique. Trælvikosen, designed by the world renown firm Snøhetta, is a series of 55 stepping stones that play with the rhythm of the tide. When arriving to this site, the tide was already starting to cover the stones, and I knew that I could not leave until I saw the whole performance of the stones being revealed once the tide goes back down. So, I waited, all day. Prior to our visit, we had the opportunity to meet with the Landscape Architect from Snøhetta’s office who designed the project. She talked a lot about the connectedness of nature and architecture and being thoughtful about the design that is placed on the site. Each stone came from a local quarry where she worked with them on the shape and size of the stone. She was intentional that this architecture should not hurt the ecosystem in which it resides. She wanted to give people a reason to be a part of the architecture and nature. To her surprise, these stones became places where snails would climb and be a part of the architecture.
Character in a place can apply to the rich history that is left there. The next project that I want to highlight is Steilneset. Peter Zumthor and
Louise Bourgeois were commissioned to make a memorial in memory of those persecuted in the seventeenth-century Finnmark Witchcraft Trials. Prior to visiting, a quote from a landscape architect that I met from Alta, Norway, said “I have never been in a building where the moment you walk in, you want to turn around.” It was that powerful. Peter Zumthor says “We throw a stone into the water. Sand swirls up and settles again. The stir was necessary. The stone has found its place. But the pond is no longer the same. I believe those buildings only be accepted by their surroundings if they have the ability to appeal to our emotions and minds in various ways. Since our feelings and understanding are rooted in the past, our sensuous connections with a building must respect the process of remembering”
When I look at architecture, I think about what it means to make a site become a place, and I feel that the Norwegian Scenic Routes are a perfect precedent of seeing that. When we learn from our environment, it tells us what who we are and what it needs. As challenges like urbanization, climate change, and mental health crises start to confront, the necessity for buildings that heal—spaces that integrate nature and nurture the mind and body—will be vital in our daily lives.
In November 2025, at the AIA Colorado Design and Practice Conference, David Pfeifer, Stephan Hall, Luc Bamberger and Lauren McNeill of Group14 Engineering presented a case study of the Aspen Distillers. The session focused on the innovative approach and technologies employed to make Aspen Distillers the world’s first Full Petal Living Building Challenge distillery in the world. The following pages highlight their key talking points and showcase the distilling process.
Overview
The Roaring Fork River flows northwest from its headwaters in Pitkin County into the Colorado River at Glenwood Springs, Colorado. The valley from Aspen to Carbondale is a beautiful, high mountain ranching ecosystem, running east to west, with ideal sunlight throughout the year cresting over the mountains to the south. In this context, the new Aspen Distillers was built inspired by an ethic of sustainable design and stewardship.
Aspen Distillers' vision required innovative thinking to push the limits of traditional sustainability. The distillery achieved LEEDv4 Platinum certification in 2024 and will go through a one-year audit governed by the International Living Future Institute to demonstrate its net positive performance. The Living Building Challenge, the built environment's most ambitious performance standard, is the most rigorous award for regenerative building practices. Aspen Distillers is on track to become the first distillery to achieve this lofty measure, setting a new bar for the alcohol spirit industry in sustainable practices.
“It’s in Our Nature.”
Aspen Distillers Tagline
The seven buildings on the campus are inspired by the utilitarian structures of the region. Like working ranches, the buildings are optimized for function above all else; clear and humble in form, massing, and material, they shape the outdoor spaces and frame views of the Valley. The simple gabled forms evoke agricultural structures in scale, color, and fenestration. Generous eaves protect from direct solar gain yet lend the buildings a finer grain of expression and articulation.
REC. PATH TO RIO GRANDE TRAIL
The distillery’s campus identity is defined by its alpine ecology, surroundings along the Rio Grande Trail, and outdoor gathering spaces contributing to the thriving local ecology. The main courtyard is bounded east by a tiered seating landscape and west by a harvest table and communal space, marking the public core of Aspen Distillers. The orientation to the west affords the public realm stunning sunset views behind mountain peaks and the Roaring Fork Valley – the boundary of the native landscape and alpine wilderness blending into and out from the distillery’s campus. In addition to the primary distillery functions, the campus includes an administration building, a small office, and a gathering space to accommodate visitors. The campus also comprises three small residential units clustered on the site’s northern edge, sharing a small court away from the distillery’s work and forming a gentle buffer with the residential neighborhood to the north.
HEADQUARTERS
DISTILLERY BUILDING
CENTRAL COURTYARD
The Living Building Challenge aspires to create a socially just, culturally rich, and ecologically restorative society – a mission that Aspen Distillers wholeheartedly aligns with. Based on a flower metaphor, the Living Building Challenge has seven categories called petals: place, water, energy, health & happiness, materials, equity, and beauty. Like a flower, Aspen Distillers is rooted in place and operates within the site’s carrying capacity.
Aspen Distillery is designed to generate more renewable energy than it consumes in operation with on-site solar and battery storage – contributing to one of the nation’s cleanest energy grids.
The wastewater generated by the distilling process is treated on-site and returned to the local ecology to ensure a resilient Colorado River Basin while supporting on-site urban agriculture with a nutrient-rich irrigation source. Over half of the campus is dedicated to teaching the next generation of farmers the foundations of regenerative agriculture – creating opportunities for education and employment, improving soil health, and providing locally harvested food to the Roaring Fork Valley.
Aspen Distillers’ environmental commitment began before construction with the salvage of all waste from the site demolition for reuse by local partners. In construction, the
limited waste generated after optimizing the building’s design was diverted from the landfill.
The project promotes a materials economy that is ecologically restorative, non-toxic, transparent, and socially equitable. The team vetted all building materials and equipment choices, omitting harmful chemicals on the Living Building Challenge’s “Red List.” The Red List represents the “worst in class” chemicals that pose serious risks to human health and the greater ecosystem prevalent in the building products industry. This effort helps ensure the health of building occupants, reduces toxicity in the supply chain, and incentivizes manufacturers to provide transparency and design for safer chemistry in their products.
Greater than 80% of new wood for the building was sourced from US Forest Stewardship Council-certified forests, and beetle-kill wood pine was harvested from stands of dead timber. If not harvested, beetle-kill trees are left to crumble and decay, resulting in millions of board feet in our forests, ultimately releasing carbon back into the atmosphere and contributing to wildfire danger.
Water Cycle
1 Rainfall Water Bioretention Cycle 100% of storm water clean on-site and returned to ground water
2 Well Water Treated on-site for potable domestic water
3 Gray/Black Water Treated on-site and 100% returned to groundwater
4 Irrigation Ditch / Agriculture Water Rights used for plantings and agriculture, 100% returned to groundwater
Distillery Production Cycle
1 Mashing
2 Liquid Solid Separator
3 Spent Grain to Feed Cattle
4 Fermentation Tank
5 Wastewater Out
6 Proprietary Wastewater Treatment
7 Distillation Columns
8 Proofing Tank
9 Bottling
105% Net Positive Energy
338 kBtu/sf/yr Baseline EUI (typ distillery)
163 kBtu/sf/yr EUI w/ no PV
96 kBtu/sf/yr EUI w/ on-site PV
0 kBtu/sf/yr EUI w/ on + off-site PV
72 kW Generated onsite
150 kW Clean energy from the grid
123 kW Battery capacity
850,000 kW Estimated annual usage
ZACH SHERROD
When I think about architects who are “future forward,” I think about the methods they use to represent their ideas.
The images that flood through my mind are sketches—all of the napkin sketches, digital drawings, diagrams, and details which architects create to sow the seeds of new realities. Some sketches lead nowhere. Others transform the way we experience the world. I’m particularly interested in those sketches that convey ideas, emotions, and solutions with socio-spatial gravity. Consider Le Corbusier’s Five Points of Architecture, Alejandro Aravena’s half houses, and Zaha Hadid’s early deconstructivist paintings. Besides architects, think of the influence of Piranesi, the Italian futurists, and Archigram on the work of subsequent generations of designers. In order for an architectural idea to gain real momentum, it must first be represented.
With these thoughts in mind, I felt inspired to revisit one of my favorite studios. Taught by Jaffer Kolb of New Affiliates, the studio simply asked us to take a photo from the streets of New York and generate a design response every
day for two weeks. Treating design as a daily practice was very rewarding, like calisthenics for creativity. For this issue of 3198, I rekindled the practice by sketching daily for 24 days in October, with a “future forward” focus. Each day, I put pen to paper without any particular agenda, open to whatever direction this mental exercise would take me.
What follows is the outcome—24 sketches arranged in chronological order. At first, there was little thematic consistency to the ritual. Based on whichever future-forward notion bubbled to the surface of my mind, I illustrated a potential formal outcome of the idea. In time, it became a meditation on the role of the architect as an innovator. I came to feel what many others have expressed before me. Architectural ideas do not come from nowhere. We are rather the hand that weaves a tapestry of imagery, technologies, and social forces that preexist the act of creation. In this way, we mirror an emerging reality to give form to the future.
A few days into the routine, I began to take note of any artwork, precedents, podcasts, or pop culture phenomena that had found their way into my illustration that day. It was a good lesson in humility, for I became very aware that
my creative capacity exists within the bounds of my experience. One day, the Obama Presidential Center might land on my page. The next, a Radiolab episode about particle physics, perhaps combined with a scene from Dune. And at one point, I found I had been iterating on my own sketch from a previous day without even realizing it. In a sense, I became better acquainted with the catalogue of influences within my own mind.
To study society and to create architecture are two intertwined and incredibly time-consuming pursuits. It's what we're asked to do on a daily basis to meet the evolving needs of our clients. Designing without a client is simply a means to keep the mind elastic! In short, this exercise taught me that to be “future forward” is to be intentional about the use of my time. I found that my creativity is heightened by the time I spend exploring the ideas of others, and my ability to quickly and effectively represent ideas is a product of my daily practice.
The boundaries between our intentions and reality continue to erode.
The obsolescence of automobiles resurrects visions of utopia. Architects increasingly design for
Buildings are designed and understood as molecular entities with chemical properties.
Buildings interface with the final frontier.
Beautiful space elevates thought.
Places of learning push against the boundaries of our knowledge.
Lawn gives way to habitat.
The craving for new experiences is the hunger that changes the world.
Our core memories are etched in memories of places.
meets whimsy in the housing of tomorrow.
Adaptive reuse will take strange new forms.
In the metaverse, there is no reason for anything to make sense.
Buildings are musical instruments.
Urban gardens become the primary organizing principle of social housing.