Manifesto

A N

I F E

S T O

alex ianchenko

M

No

man is an island entire of itself ; every man

is a piece of the continent , a part of the main ; if a clod be washed away by the sea ,

Europe

is the less , as well as if a promontory were , as well as any manner of thy friends or of thine own were ; any man ’ s death diminishes me , because

And

I

am involved in mankind .

therefore never send to know for whom

the bell tolls ; it tolls for thee .

1

STEWARDSHIP LIFESPAN

TECHNOLOGY

RESILIENCE

BIG

DESIGN AS A TOOL

CULTURE RELIGION

SCALE SMALL

EDUCATION

HEALTH ECONOMICS

AGRICULTURE

POLITICS

ECOLOGY

SYSTEMS 2

INTRODUCTION

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I chose to study architecture by process of elimination. Politics seemed too interpersonal. Business and economics – too arbitrary. I did not want to become a scientist, fearing that increasingly broad research would pave the way into an elitist ivory tower; by contrast, engineering seemed to lack an overarching vision that would give meaning to applied skills. Art was too detached from tangible problems; studying languages did not feel right at a time when translation is becoming an obsolete career. Medical sciences required an amount of blind dedication to the academic system that I did not have.

I chose architecture because it was the compromise between science and art, between tangible and poetic, between hands, heart and head.

Three years later, I realize I was naïve to think that architecture was in a vacuum suspended between politics, business, science, engineering, art, health, and culture. The most meaningful work I have done exists at points of intersection between these disciplines. Architecture is a multidimensional language that allows me to analyze these intersections through physical space. Design is a tool that gives me the power to change them.

This project is a collection of thoughts about the role of design in intersection. It is intended as the beginning of a lifetime’s work around the periphery of what is traditionally considered architecture. Above all, it is a statement of faith in the design approach applied to what Sim van der Ryn calls “The Great Turning” – a holistic and fundamental shift towards sustainability in all aspects of life.

This booklet is organized around a framework of four themes: systems, stewardship, culture, and scale. These concepts are so interdependent, that representing them along a linear narrative structure detracts from understanding

their intricate involvement. I encourage the reader to choose their own path through this book, much like each body moves through a building. One concept bleeds into the next, and while this does not make the resultant vision of design clearer, the bigger picture becomes easier to discern.

This work begins to answer a broad question that I did not ask myself three years ago in the process of career elimination– why design? What is it about architecture that makes it pivotal to addressing contemporary challenges – and how do we practice good design? These questions do not have a deterministic answer, which is why the value of this project hinges on its incompleteness. I hope to continue to revise and amend it for years to come.

4

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

5

I would like to express my gratitude to the faculty and students of the Department of Architecture at the University of Washington, who gave me the language to speak about what is most important.

Special thanks go to Rob PeĂąa, for inspiring to practice design as a way of citizenship, poetry, and science.

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SYSTEMS “Understanding [the]

system , or network , allows us

to make fundamental changes to the whole … without having to fundamentally change its elements .” de

Graaf

– Paul

As we globalize, relationships between different professional fields are becoming more and more interdependent. It is no longer possible to make isolated decisions – recent legislature is an example of how politics has become intertwined with economics, education, health and industry among many others. Individual fields have developed their own depth over the past century, but we are now becoming more aware of the exponential complexity in their interactions with one another. What happens when policy intersects with public health? When agriculture influences equity? These moments of intersection are simultaneously daunting and ripe with potential.

*see Culture, p. 25 7

An effective tool for untangling this network of ripple effects is systems thinking – a method first introduced by Barry Richmond in 1987 (Arnold & Wade, 2015). The advantage of systems is that they operate on the principle that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Richmond defined systems thinking as “the art and science of making reliable inferences about behavior by developing an increasable deep understanding of underlying structure”. A system is that underlying structure* that simultaneously defines the intersections between constituent elements and gives those connections a unified meaning.

Architecture is uniquely suited to systems thinking because at its core, designing built environments requires an understanding of how program, site, and culture intersect in physical space. Architecture is analogous to a skeletal system that simultaneously determines and is determined by context.

In the human body, the skeleton is a form of underlying structure – for example, a skeleton is a base prerequisite before muscles can contract and limbs can spring into action. However, skeletons are not the only organizational structure we have, just as architecture is not the only selforganizing principle in society. The nervous system can be considered just as fundamental for any task that requires cognition. Debating which of these structures is more vital than another is pointless; a skeleton or a neuron mesh cannot stand alone – in the body, all systems are implicated in all others through their physical interaction. Just as a skeleton gives an envelope for equally important systems within the human body, architecture is a system that deals in organizing other systems within. The mode of interaction between architecture and other fields is unique, since we expect architecture to give physical place* to all other systems that then influence it in return.

Systems thinking is necessary to address contemporary challenges such as climate change*. This is very apparent in agriculture – we are now realizing that the production and consumption of food, water, and energy are irreversibly interconnected (Salam, Shrestha, Pandey, & Anal, 2017).

It is impossible to alter one without affecting the others; a comprehensive approach to climate change will require that all three develop harmonically. Failure to recognize these connections exponentially weakens movement towards

*see Culture, p. 25

*see Ecology, p. 16

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sustainability.

*see Culture, p. 25

*see Resilience, p. 23

This chapter will discuss how the subject of architecture is to choreograph existing robust systems beyond food, energy and water. Place* cannot be separated from the way it is perceived though the lens of politics, economics, environment, health, and agriculture. Architecture becomes one system in constant flux with respect to all others – and the most exciting places to grow lie in the intersections between*.

SYSTEMS\POLITICS Architecture actively sets the rules of inclusion and exclusion in politics. Giving someone place is synonymous to giving them power. Even the vocabularies of architecture and politics are intertwined - “forum” originates from the public center of a Roman city, but now evokes a mode of discourse. Although it is difficult to disassociate the terms “right-wing” and “left-wing” from their political connotation, they originally indicated the spatial position of different parties’ in the French parliament.

Architecture determines the space in which agents are free to discuss, reign, vote, or exclude. In doing so, architecture itself becomes a political agent.

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Eyal Weizman has recently generated the term “forensic architecture” when studying the frontier between Israel and Palestine. He approaches cityscapes as a witness, using drone imaging and building surveying to determine the extent of systemic violence between the two groups (Weizman, 2014). His observations uncover a case of

acute architectural agency. Walls control the movement of people towards checkpoints; flyover highways neglect to connect Palestinian neighborhoods to their surroundings; architectural styles are a means of communicating righteousness in communities that are physically far from Jerusalem*. Architecture becomes deliberately complicit in dictating who has the right to move, to watch, to gather, to discuss – in short, who has power.

*see Religion, p. 29

The extreme example of Israel makes the political agency of architecture obvious, but it exists always.

In part, contemporary Western architecture derives from anthropocentric ideals first presented during the Renaissance. During the Renaissance, architecture was framed as analogous to the male body (Agrest, 1988). The female body was deliberately excluded from the narrative, although feminine traits were appropriated by males in order to support the mythos of the architect-creator. This systematic exclusion was translated into space through dimensions – until recently, the male body was the accepted standard of design, even in spaces like kitchens that were traditionally occupied by women. Architecture derives from the positioning of the human body in space. Therefore, the identity of the accepted typical human body becomes a statement of political power – whose position matters enough to warrant a physical place*. *see Culture, p. 25 Denying that place has political agency sometimes originates from ignorance, but is more often an expression of politically oppressive intent. In her discussion of place, Carol Burns introduces the concept of the “cleared site” and the “constructed site” as two contrasting ways to perceive space before being modified by architecture (Burns, 1991).

The cleared site assumes a blank slate condition – it is

10

entirely apolitical, and thus allows greater freedom in the architecture itself. By contrast, the constructed site is layered, imperfect, complex – it is a result of all creatures who have occupied it before, and everything that is connected to it now. The mentality behind the cleared site is what created the tract system used by the United States to colonize Native American land without regard to who and what was already there. Therefore, assuming that place can come without power is not an expression of graceful withdrawal in architecture, but rather the privilege of the oppressor.

When architects demarcate place, they also determine who deserves to use it. There is no such thing as apolitical architecture – policy determines the rules of design, and design changes the type of policy that a society generates.

Good architecture is therefore politically active.

SYSTEMS\ECONOMICS The traditional requirements communicated by the client to the architect are building program and budget (Van der Ryn & Peña, 2002). The larger the project, the more critical financial constraints become to its success. Therefore, if architecture is to change in the next 30 years to support environmental and social sustainability, it must also be economically viable.

*see Ecology, p. 16 11

In his alternative vision of sustainable economics, Paul Hawken declares that “what we have [in the market] is not a management problem but a design problem” (Hawken, 1993). Being sustainable* should be easy by design – which in the context of the free market, means profitable. Many

existing ecological incentives function through financial routes, such as tax exemptions for sustainable businesses, or subsidies for development of sustainable technology.

Economics is an essential tool for adjusting the cost of products to their value*, with the inclusion of environmental impact.

The same needs to be done in design. The environmental impact of material use in architecture needs to become visible through cost. Successfully sustainable projects must strive to optimize their economic performance to act as living examples of doing well by doing good*. Municipalities that offer tax exemptions as an incentive to build LEEDcertified buildings are already beginning to improve the financial weighting of architecture through policy.

*see Culture, p. 25

*see Stewardship, p. 19

There is a misconception that sustainable design is a form of economic altruism. This no longer has to be the case. The Bullitt Center is projected to create $18,490,000 market value throughout its lifespan as a Living Building (Cowan et al., 2014). Most of this created value derives from the low-hanging fruit of efficiency – by employing energy-saving architectural strategies, the building is projected to annually save $112,027 for its tenants. It is important to continue to educate clients* that carbon-conscious strategies *see Education, p. 27 in architecture are also cost-saving – for example, the orientation of the building can drastically cut mechanical heating and cooling costs by taking advantage of available sunlight and shade.

Whereas politics* can be polarizing, money is a common *see Politics, p. 9 language that crosses party lines. For sustainable architecture to gain traction through funding, we need to investigate how design goals overlap with those of the labor

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movement. One criticism of current environmentalism is its deterministic view of what is and isn’t an environmental problem (Shellenberger & Nordhaus, 2011). What would happen if poverty or wage gaps became included in the narrative of the built environment? I believe we would discover that environmentally sustainable design adheres to many of the same values that conservative economists hold dear – self-sufficiency, job creation, and the empowerment of the individual.

The realization of the built environment from concept to building requires significant economic investment.

Architecture actively modifies the free market throughout construction and operation. Good architecture is therefore economically sound.

SYSTEMS\HEALTH In 2012, the World Health Organization determined that nearly 1 in 4 global deaths were caused by living or working in an unhealthy environment (Prüss-Ustün, Wolf, Corvalán, Bos, & Neira, 2012). Mitigation of a wide range of health concerns from respiratory infections to cancers to obesity all list modifying the built environment as an intervention strategy. Architecture can therefore actively promote health or conversely, serve as a medium for disease.

*see Politics, p. 9 13

The partnership between health professionals and designers is a promising alliance. Concerns about human well-being are often visceral and therefore have actively shaped labor, agriculture, water, and air policy* in the past (consider the FDA’s impact on the food industry). If architecture becomes a concern for health professionals

and vice versa, the connection between human and environmental* wellbeing will also become clear. In addition to medical benefits, understanding that environmental health is the same as human health is part of an important cultural shift* away from externalizing – van der Ryn’s “Great Turning” – that legitimizes the movement towards sustainability.

Architecture is the physical membrane between environmental and personal health. Initiatives like WELL Building Standard and the Healthy Building Network are already formalizing the relationship between the two through built form. Good design is therefore healthy design – which by extension, allows it to be profitable* and ecologically-attuned.

*see Ecology, p. 16 *see Culture, p. 25

*see Economics, p. 11

SYSTEMS\AGRICULTURE Agriculture and architecture are sister systems that share an important grounding in land. Historically, agriculture has fallen under the jurisdiction of rural scholars such as geographers and anthropologists, but is now entering the urban curriculum among planners and architects (Born & Purcell, 2006). Intricate supply chain networks have developed nearly without regulation* to feed dense urban centers, where conventional agriculture has no place to exist. Using the design approach in application to food systems offers multiple benefits that address social as well as environmental sustainability.

*see Politics, p. 9

As a consequence of being grounded in land, both architecture and agriculture generate heavy environmental* *see Ecology, p. 16 impacts in terms of water, energy, and carbon use. However,

14

if each is analyzed separately as a system with discrete inputs and outputs, their potential for symbiosis is revealed (Gould & Caplow, 2012). The waste streams of dense urban cities consist of CO2 exhaust, biosolids, and excess heat.

Conversely, cultivating plant mass in agriculture requires the same inputs – CO2, compost, and heat. Building-integrated agriculture is an exciting field that relies on architectural and agricultural expertise to optimize both systems through physical proximity. *see Resilience, p. 23 *see Big, p. 34

*see Stewardship, p. 19

*see Culture, p. 25 15

The symbiosis of dense built environments and food production is not new – consider allotments* or victory gardens which fed Britain and America through WWII. Beyond community gardens, urban agriculture has the potential to scale up* to participate in city-wide food production fabrics. In classic period cities of the Maya, urban centers included planned infields used for communal farming as demarcation between different neighborhoods (Barthel & Isendahl, 2013). In a more recent example, the nationwide lifting of policy limitations on urban agriculture was a critical strategy used by the Cuban government to prevent starvation.

Agriculture, like architecture, relies on a careful adaptation* to context through case-by-case application (Berry, 1981). Traditional agriculture takes many forms through neighboring aquaculture, husbandry and plant cultivation that can be combined in a myriad of climactically and culturally-relevant ways. Vernacular architecture is analogous – dependent on climactic adaptation to enable thermal comfort, traditional dwelling types display a varied material and formal palette which has become culturally valuable* (Ingels, 2015). Urban agriculture has also developed a variety of typologies to fit different urban

contexts. In a dense city, the social context of agriculture becomes just as vital for success as the natural – for example, matching the economic feasibility* of an urban agriculture type to community funds is just as important as adapting to sunlight. Paul de Graaf has taken the first step towards creating comprehensive urban agriculture policy in Rotterdam through mapping opportunity sites for various typologies of urban agriculture – pulling from his background as a designer and systems thinker* to simultaneously address issues of urban fabric reuse* and food security* (de Graaf, 2013).

The intersection between agriculture and architecture is a robust model for formalizing interactions between design and other fields through place*. Urban agriculture works with environmental as well as cultural inputs and outputs to create a holistic vision of resilience and sustainability in cities. Everything becomes food for something else – the outputs of one system feed the next. Most importantly, agriculture and architecture are both a tangible expression of agency* – proving by their existence that we can determine where we work, what we eat, and how we live.

*see Economics, p. 11

*see Systems, p. 7 *see Stewardship, p. 19 *see Resilience, p. 23

*see Culture, p. 25

*see Politics, p. 9

SYSTEMS\ECOLOGY The relationship between people and nature has irreversibly changed in the past century. The automobile, penicillin, and the Green Revolution* have astronomically raised the standard of living for many, particularly in the West.

Nature never seemed more under control. We are now beginning to feel the consequences of this technocratic approach – unprecedented hurricanes, wildfires, floods and droughts are battering all continents without regard to

*see Technology, p. 28

16

*see Culture, p. 25

*see Education, p. 27

17

pollical borders. The technology that set off chain reactions through our biosphere is new, but the mentality isn’t – climate change is tangible proof of the deeply dysfunctional relationship between humans and ecology that has been the foundation of Western culture* for centuries (Bateson, 1987).

Architecture is one of the best media to start to remedy this relationship. As the membrane between human users and the surrounding natural environment, architecture is a physical language* that determines our mode of our interaction with nature. Right now, the language of most buildings says that (1) we can take whatever we need from nature, (2) we don’t control (or care) where our waste goes once it leaves the envelope, (3) nature is outside, it is other than, it is external by default. Our insistence on physical removal from nature is mostly driven by pragmatic considerations – many climates do not provide a comfortable environment to perform a range of activities that we are used to. However, it is also emblematic of a larger conception of human beings being separate from animals. The underlying assumption that humans are exempt from many laws of nature is a foundation for Western civilization. It is time to challenge that axiom.

We are a part of nature. We cannot afford to act like an outsider. Architecture can become the physical manifestation of humans’ place in the ecological cycle.

Experimental work in Vienna’s Angewandte by Petra Gruber and Barbara Imhof is currently investigating what architecture can glean from natural growth processes (Hoheneder & Gruber, 2015). One analogy of the built environment to the natural states that to be sustainable, architecture should achieve the criteria for successful

life forms – adaptation, self-organization, self-design and resilience*. In building terms, this requires effective climactic adaptation, which also results in economic success and cultural value (Ingels, 2015).

There is little distinction between conceptual and pragmatic in the process of changing architecture to be environmentally-conscious. Conceptual ties between natural and artificial must be revised in the sphere of culture* and politics** at the same time as practical improvements in resource flow management must come from skilled designers and engineers. Sanda Postel’s work with water management is one example of interdisciplinary systems thinking that should be applied to all resources through the design field. Her simultaneous analysis of water management through the technical lens as well as the supporting cultural axioms is something that is already being translated to energy and food management (Postel, 2010). The common thread that makes these analyses valuable is their recognition that our access to resources depends on the health* of the environment. Architecture has the role of making this thread not only visible, but tangible in everyday lives.

Sustainability is not just ecological mindfulness – it’s the recognition that we are one part of the world. It is a cultural shift that encompasses the way humans perceive health, political agency, equity and economic wellbeing*. Good design strives to achieve sustainability through improving the relationship of humans to nature.

*see Resilience, p. 23

*see Culture, p. 25 **see Politics, p. 9

*see Health, p. 13

*see Economics, p. 11

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STEWARDSHIP “Stewardship

maintains natural capital by spending

frugally and investing wisely ”

*see Ecology, p. 16

*see Lifespan, p. 21 *see Culture, p. 25

19

– Sim Van

der

Ryn

Sim van der Ryn once wrote that ecological design* offers three distinct strategies to achieve sustainability – conservation, regeneration, and stewardship (Van der Ryn, 1996). Out of the three, the field of architectural design has advanced the most in conservation in the past 20 years. Incentivizing programs like LEED and the Green Building Standard place an emphasis on frugal material use in construction – for example, less carbon-intensive concrete mixes, or FSC-certified lumber. Regeneration is a strategy that has been literally integrated into landscape architecture through projects that tackle brownfield sites; in select cases, architects have also used the strategy of regeneration as with adaptive reuse projects that create space for new program to take place in vacant urban structures (see Urban Organics in St. Paul, Minnesota).

Designing for stewardship is still uncommon. By definition, stewardship is a mentality that requires a careful long-term commitment* to improvement and maintenance based on feedback. Stewardship is an intangible discipline that has traditionally belonged to the sociocultural* realm more so than the world of designers. However, to be a good steward requires long-lasting perseverance, devotion and skill – characteristics that designers also hold in high regard (Berry, 1981). Stewardship is the best strategy out of the three to achieve long-lasting change; that the design field must take the role of the steward to challenge cultural

assumptions that led to growing environmental, political, and economic pressures.

Stewardship provides an alternative model to ownership by including the element of time*. To steward something is to *see Lifespan , p. 21 take care of it with the understanding that it will eventually be out of the steward’s control; to own is to possess indefinitely. Modern Western culture* idolizes ownership, *see Culture, p. 25 although possessing something indefinitely is impossible.

By contrast, stewardship of the land has provided a blueprint for societies that successfully averted perpetrating environmental damage* without losing their cultural identity. *see Ecology, p. 16 One way that an architect can recognize the time scale* *see Scale, p. 32 and practice stewardship is through designing for the entire life cycle of a building – like a link in a food chain, a good building should have a use both in life and death (Van der Ryn & Peña, 2002). An architect can both act as a steward and enable stewardship in others. Through creating spaces that are adaptable and resilient to serve users’ needs, we can enable community involvement – and by extension, political participation*. Giving users the ability to take care *see Politics, p. 9 of the environment they inhabit is crucial to building a sense of identity. Consider the P-Patch program of community gardens in Seattle, where immigrant communities can gather to steward the land and provide culturally-relevant produce; or Jane Jacobs’ description of the North End in Boston, where residents were given the time and space to take care of their own surroundings to create a lively neighborhood (Jacobs, 1992). Both examples are not designed in the traditional sense, yet achieve stewardship – which indicates that the role of the designer-steward must change.

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This chapter will speculate what the role of an architect as a steward can become. Everyday operations will be discussed through the concept of lifespan in architecture; responsible reaction to an extreme disruption will be discussed through the concept of resilience. Both modes of operation require a longevity and perseverance of care that designers can provide.

STEWARDSHIP\LIFESPAN

*see Ecology, p. 16

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Buildings are responsible for nearly half of the CO2 emissions produced in the United States (Architecture 2030, 2017). In order to quantify environmental impact within the building industry, life cycle assessment (LCA) is used as a method to tally carbon costs* of existing and projected structures from construction to end of life.

Since carbon plays a role in many natural cycles as well as climate change, it is a form of environmental “currency” that LCA practitioners use to quantify environmental impact.

The carbon footprint of a typical building consists of embodied impacts which correspond to manufacture and construction, and operational impacts which accumulate throughout that building’s lifetime in the form of continual mechanical, electrical, and plumbing system use. While the relationship between embodied and operational impacts varies from building to building, operational impacts of existing housing stock outweigh embodied impacts, constituting as much as 90% of a building’s lifetime carbon footprint (Basbagill, Flager, Lepech, & Fischer, 2013). Therefore, accurate LCA estimates rely on accurate

estimates of building lifetime to calculate operational carbon impacts.

Recognizing that buildings cannot be permanent is a requirement for responsible design. Building components cannot be designed to be permanent either – Frank Duffy first noted that modern buildings are composed of layered systems and each one has a unique lifetime (Van der Ryn & Peña, 2002). Good design does not stop at construction administration – the operation of the building must become a responsibility of the architect, as well as its eventual death. Post-occupancy evaluations and smart technological systems that gather data* on the performance of various building components are ways architects can begin to design the operation of the building and collect feedback to improve their stewardship of the built environment (see Bullitt Center). As for end of life, allowing carboncostly materials to be routinely destroyed and carted off to the landfill is immensely wasteful, both economically* and ecologically. Designing for disassembly, reuse and adaptation is an ambitious challenge that should become part of the standard design process.

Stewardship in the built environments is a two-way street between the architect and the user. Similar to natural selection, designing buildings for longevity requires adaptability. Spaces where the architect relinquishes control so that the user can express their agency* and determine the program are culturally valuable. To design effective adaptable spaces, architects must not shy away from sociology – perseverance, care and communication with community stakeholders is indispensable. Only by being stewards, can designers enable others to practice stewardship as well.

*see Education, p. 27

*see Economics, p. 11

*see Politics, p. 9

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STEWARDSHIP\RESILIENCE Traditionally, resilience indicated the capacity of a system to resist changes from an external stressor and recover to its original state. In his work on community-wide resilience, Bob Freitag challenges this definition by pointing out that restoring the status quo is actually undesirable, since the original condition was susceptible to the disruption (Freitag, Abramson, Chalana, & Dixon, 2014). Instead, he redefines resilience as “the capacity to adapt to change rather that to bounce back from it”. Adaptations throughout the lifetime of a building can be gradual, but an extreme event such as a natural disaster calls for a condensed mode of quick response. If building safety is the responsibility of the architect, resilience must be as well.

*see Culture, p. 25

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In a community disaster scenario, Freitag chooses to focus on existing natural, built, and social assets rather than the disruption itself. This approach to community workshops on resilience has changed the tone of the discussion – where before, natural disaster planning was defined by dread of inadequacy, it is viewed as an opportunity to improve the existing environment to support community values. A natural disaster scenario highlights that what communities value* are not physical structures, but what they enable them to do. For example, a road is not a value – mobility and access to food and water is. In the case of a natural disaster, values remain unchanged even if the infrastructure to support them is gone. The task of the community is to achieve the same values through new means, which is a design problem.

In design, the same approach would require architects to ask “what value does this building provide to the

community?”. It is then the responsibility of the architect to ensure that these values can be achieved even in the case of a disruption. If the building cannot bounce forward after a disruption, there is reason to question the longevity and usefulness of the existing design. This is a difficult task that must be tackled across different scales – from technical detailing to city-wide infrastructure.

Resilient design is challenging because it functions on two time scales simultaneously – the everyday and the extreme.

To function in both modes when appropriate, resilient design must be multidimensional. Systems thinking* is a good strategy to apply (de Graaf, 2013). For example, when mobility infrastructure can be transformed to accommodate need for shelter or sanitation, it works in the spheres of health*, engineering, food**, and safety simultaneously.

Therefore, resilience in architecture requires a partnership between innovative thinking and a long-term commitment to care that a sense of stewardship provides. Good design is resilient design, and it functions best when it’s located at the intersection of systems outside architecture alone.

*see Scale, p.32

*see Systems, p. 7

*see Health, p. 13 **see Agriculture, p. 14

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CULTURE *see Small, p. 35

*see Politics, p. 9

25

Architecture and culture have a peculiar relationship – architecture simultaneously determines the spaces where culture can evolve and is determined by existing cultural context. Culture is the hidden dimension in architecture, determining fundamental assumptions of how human bodies* use space before there is any idea of form or materiality. It is similarly fundamental in other fields such as the exact sciences, which rest on Enlightenment values of individualism, reason, and progress. Culture is a therefore a broad concept that represents a set of attitudes, values, goals, and practices that is constantly evolving to match the needs and ideas of a group (Merriam-Webster). Since as a dynamic collection of overarching values, culture is difficult to define and yet influential on every field of human life.

Art can express cultural values through visual and tactile stimulation. Music translates the same values into auditory expression. Architecture captures culture in position and place. The spatial relationships between users occupying a built environment set the stage for the mode of their interaction*. Position refers to the space that a body takes up in relationship to another body, object, or environment.

This can be an expression of cultural value – consider the design of a throne room as opposed to a parliament auditorium. A throne is a spatial representation of monarchy, putting a single leader on a pedestal (literally and figuratively). Conversely, the spatial egalitarianism of a parliament hall, with consideration to equal viewing opportunity from all seats, is democracy represented in space. Place refers to a space that is activated by social context, carrying identity. Places go beyond providing

shelter – they access a layer of cultural meaning that creates deeper ties between human bodies than position.

Not every space is a place, which is why some built environments can feel sterile or even hostile. The goal of good design is to accurately express or deliberately challenge cultural values through both position and place.

Edward T. Hall was an anthropologist who reached the conclusion that his research on the way humans use space had to transcend disciplines* to tell a full story. Hall *see Systems, p. 7 investigated territoriality in animals with biologists, the particularities of sensory perception with sociologists, and applied them to the urban context by reaching out to city planners. His work on proxemics reveals that the positioning of human bodies in space is a cultural phenomenon, an expression of fundamental values that has to be studied across professional fields to inform diplomacy, policy and design (Hall, 1966). Architecture can either conform to the cultural definitions of what constitutes intimate, personal, and social scales* or it can deliberately challenge those *see Scale, p. 32 assumptions.

Architecture expresses cultural values across scales through choreographing the sensory relationship between two agents, which then alters their interaction. For example, the materiality of walls determines whether they function as visual or auditory screens (or both). The arrangement of different spaces is often a product of the intended program – consider how a classroom is different from a concert hall is different from a home. When spaces and the events that take place in them are deliberately thought out, design and culture are in harmony (Tschumi, 1994).

Culture is fundamental, yet not immutable – it can be seen

26

a gradual social design process. Architecture is a valuable tool that can catalyze cultural change through tangible space. This chapter will discuss the role of architects in harmony and discord with culture.

CULTURE\EDUCATION

*see Stewardship, p. 19

*see Systems, p. 7 *see Politics, p. 9 **see Technology, p. 28 27

Education is the best tool we have for reinforcing – or challenging – cultural values. At its core, education has to do with the timeless question of how we are to live in the social and moral realm (Orr, 2009). Architecture asks the same question in the tangible world of the built environment. The mission of education and architecture is to change the face of the world – the two are symbiotic.

Where architecture sets the rules for physical interaction between bodies and the environment, education constructs a parallel, intangible cultural reality. Values included in the curriculum become societal values*. If the most critical place to change a broken system lies with challenging fundamental assumptions and values, accessible education is a critical strategy to bring about change (Van der Ryn, 2013). Including systems thinking, stewardship, and scale in education equips the next generation of global citizens with the necessary tools to address environmental and political crises. Architectural education is already changing its curriculum to reflect this – moving away from abstract exercises in form-finding to hands-on interdisciplinary problem-solving* (see Steve Badanes!). It is essential that the architectural curriculum continues including political literacy*, social advocacy, and scientific technical skills** if designers are to move beyond the broken paradigm of externalizing environmental impacts. Changing the way that

design is taught is the first step to changing the way we design, and consequently, how we live.

Learning takes place in buildings – but also as a result of buildings (Orr, 1993). We need to replace the lesson of carelessness that existing buildings teach us with lessons of stewardship. Good design is malleable and empowers its users, rather than corrals them. Buildings that reveal natural systems rather than conceal them show us that we are not separate from the environment*. This form of architectural education is crucial to change the long-held Western assumption that humans are exempt from laws of nature*. Education through the built environment can not only bolster environmental values, but also teach equity and democracy – spaces that are conducive to gathering can build cultural identity and change the narrative of political power*.

*see Stewardship, p. 19 *see Ecology, p. 16 *see Religion, p. 29

*see Politics, p. 9

CULTURE\TECHNOLOGY Science, technology, engineering and math have exponentially raised the standard of living in the Western world in the past 100 years. We depend on technology, and it fascinates us. Somewhere along the line, technology became an end rather than a means – faster, more efficient, smarter technology is grabbing headlines even if its purpose is sometimes difficult to discern.

It is interesting to consider that the union of technology and science is historically unprecedented. Science was traditionally aristocratic, speculative, exclusive; technology belonged to the middle class, being empirical and actionoriented (White, 1967). The divide between science and

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*see Religion, p. 29

*see Lifespan, p. 21 *see Education, p. 27

*see Stewardship, p. 19

engineering is rapidly closing, which leads to greater efficiency and innovation, but simultaneously strips science of its original association with the humanities. In religious tradition*, science was a means to investigate the creation of God and thereby achieve cultural value. Without a unifying value system, science and technology started achieving progress for the sake of progress (Van der Ryn, 2013).

To remain relevant and valuable, technology must be kept in check by culture. For sustainability to become a part of the cultural mindset, technology must be sensitive to its place in relationship to human, community, and global life cycles*. Finally, technology must remain accessible and transparent*, so users can retain a chance to exercise their agency in everyday lives. Technology is an efficient tool, but not a goal in and of itself – designers’ goal should be to make architecture more equitable, better at integrating with the environment and supporting community stewardship*.

Good design does not seek technocratic solutions – it considers purpose and value first.

CULTURE\RELIGION

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Until recently, religion played a major part in Western culture. Many enduring examples of architecture are therefore also expressions of religion – from the temple to the basilica to the cathedral. In the absence of religion as a unifying worldview, we must define new values that will act as a foundation for design addressing contemporary issues. We can learn from Western religion and the axioms it establishes to improve the cultural undercurrent of architecture, as well as other disciplines.

Christianity offered an anthropocentric worldview that eventually enabled Western culture to aggressively instill its values on most of the globe (White, 1967). One of the assumptions that Christianity rests on is that man is by default separate from nature* – “no item in the physical creation had any purpose save to serve man’s purposes”. This axiom has justified Western exploitation of natural resources for centuries, but is now accelerated by technology*, which has disastrous consequences for the environment. The same assumption has led to an architecture of detachment – buildings that rely on mechanical systems for the purpose of further removing themselves from the natural environment.

However, Christianity also teaches stewardship*. A model Christian remembers that land is a gift, not a possession.

To be worthy of land, one must practice both spatial and temporal* neighborliness, which plays well with the concept of sustainability (Berry, 1981). The Bible has much to say about the practice of good husbandry to take care of the land. The new value system for architecture should include these lessons of stewardship, but firmly refute the idea that man is external to nature and vice versa.

Religion is no longer a robust avenue of reaching a majority of the population, as it was prior to its schism with science.

However, its role as a moral value framework is indisputably important to ensure that we do not perpetuate progress for the sake of progress, rather trying to achieve something greater. Sustainability needs to become the new “religion”.

This value mindset must permeate all facets of life from the arts to the sciences to medicine – taking the lessons that we learned from Christianity, Buddhism, Judaism, Hinduism and all others and attuning them to pressing environmental

*see Ecology, p. 16

*see Technology, p. 28

*see Stewardship, p. 19 *see Lifespan, p. 21

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*see Systems, p. 7

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and political needs. Good architecture can still be sacred in a world without God, adhering to moral values that paint a bigger picture of the life as one interconnected network*.

SCALE All buildings operate on a range of scales at once. When designing a building drawing sets sent for plan review must contain details, floor plans, and site maps – all at different scales, and consequently, with a different grain of information. Architects are accustomed to using scale as a tool for communication. The quality of information conveyed by both two- and three-dimensional representations depends on the scale of the drawing or model. Each scale tells the same narrative of architecture slightly differently – suggesting that the audience consider overarching concepts at larger scales, and technical at smaller ones.

Scale is a useful tool not only for describing construction, but also in the design process. Setting a scale is an exercise in selecting which information is relevant, and which can be omitted for the sake of clarity. Inequity and climate change* *see Ecology, p. 26 seem overwhelming in their entirety; treating them as a design problem and setting a scale is an important step that can narrow down the scope of work to be more specific, or widen it to be more comprehensive. Selecting a scale early in the design process draws a boundary between what can and cannot be addressed in one project, which makes it manageable.

Despite its high regard in architecture, it is important to recognize that scale is not a value*, it is a tool. Brandon Born and Mark Purcell describe this potential fallacy in their article on local food systems, which points out that the slow food movement has conflated local scale with justice, sustainability, and equity (Born & Purcell, 2006).

All scales are relative to one another. It is only possible to

*see Culture, p. 25

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label something as “local” if there is a “global” to compare it to – therefore, all scales are socially constructed and have no inherent value. If the goal of good design is to bring about a cultural shift towards sustainability, creating smallscale systems may be part of the solution, but certainly not all. Neglecting the large scale leads to projects without an overarching vision; neglecting the small scale leads to technical disjunction. Architecture as a field already recognizes the merits and drawbacks of choosing a scale, which makes it one of the best candidates for catalyzing change. *see Systems, p. 7 *see Stewardship, p. 19 *see Culture, p. 25

Many of the concepts that are described in this work operate at multiple scales at once. Systems* like the political, economic, and ecological one all function from the interpersonal to the global scale through technology.

Stewardship* exists in everyday acts, but can extend to encompass an entire philosophy. Culture operates both through individual buildings, and entire cities. Systems, stewardship and culture are intertwined, and good design addresses all three at the same scale to create positive change.

This chapter will discuss how understanding and manipulating scale is one of the strongest assets of design. It is an approach that can be applied to fields outside architecture as well, but is already familiar in the built environments. While scale is a complex gradient, this chapter will discuss the two extremes – big and small.

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SCALE\BIG At this time, architects are simultaneously designing larger structures than ever before and becoming aware that bigness exacerbates contemporary problems caused by overpopulation. The urban sprawl is an architectural monster that operates on the biggest scale. Cities have seemingly grown too fast and too big to control – enabled by technology in the name of Progress, gray asphaltscapes have adopted the ideology of the cancer cell.

Beside architecture, major institutions like government*, the economy*, the media, education** and health care*** have also spiraled beyond transparency and accountability (Van der Ryn, 2013). Bigness is the ultimate adversary of individual agency, proclaiming that Nothing Can Be Done.

Rem Koolhaas describes bigness in architecture as both a daunting reality and a point of opportunity. On one hand, bigness exists outside moral right or wrong*, outside architectural composition and tectonic transparency; on the other, it is the only scale that “mobilizes the full intelligence of architecture and its related fields” by virtue of its complexity (Koolhaas, 1995). For Koolhaas, Bigness was a conflict between architecture and urbanism; 20 years later, Bigness is affecting transportation, resource networks*, and ecology.

The advantage of thinking Big is the ability to create a holistic vision. This translates poorly to architecture, which has traditionally been site- and program-specific.

Projects that hinge on their Bigness span too far outside the human body to be relatable, yet allow for constituent fragmentation. Consider the concrete pre-fab plattenbau – a socialist vision of dense egalitarian housing for the working

*see Politics, p. 9 *see Economics, p. 11 **see Ecucation, p. 27 ***see Health, p. 13

*see Religion, p. 29

*see Agriculture, p. 14 *see Ecology, p. 16

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*see Culture, p. 25

*see Systems, p. 7

class with access to sanitation and electricity. These highrises are an expression of cultural values* that were relevant at the time of their construction, but are now undergoing revision. The “sleeping districts” of post-Soviet metropolises dwarf their inhabitants, who have taken it upon themselves to bring the scale of their environment back down by differentiating their apartments. Balcony retrofits, murals and community gardens have defied Bigness.

Bigness is unavoidable in architecture. However, while it may not be desirable in the physical environment, it does have a place in the design process. The ability of the architect to take themselves outside a project and incrementally consider the surroundings is something that all systems thinkers* must apply to their process. Getting the big picture is just as important as detailing; good design does both.

SCALE\SMALL

*see Stewardship, p. 19 **see Politics, p. 9 ***see Culture, p. 25

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Marco Frascari defines details as “the minimal units of signification in the architectural production of meanings” (Frascari, 1983). Thus, in the holistic cultural movement towards sustainability, each architectural detail must be a supporting statement. In the design process, to achieve big, architects must first think small. The same process can be applied to stewardship*, politics**, equity, and culture***. The human body is a common element between all systems; designers must always return to this element to create meaningful solutions. Good design touches the individual before it can change community and culture.

In architecture, consideration of the human scale produces experiential spaces that feel alive. Working through

detail, architects can choreograph the human senses in a space and create cultural meaning. For example, the carved ornament of Gothic cathedrals was a striking visual expression of piousness* that was a powerful cultural driver at the time of construction. The use of water features in contemporary Arabic mosques considered climactic differences, but also created a parallel tactile and auditory world that could bend perception to bring the devoted closer to Allah. Sensory experience is created at the small scale which relates to human physiology and perceptive ability. A consistent typology of sensory experiences in the built environment creates cultural value in architecture, expressed by how humans interact with one another.

*see Religion, p. 29

Edward T. Hall makes an argument that people’s interactions are determined by proxemics, the study of personal space (Hall, 1966). Vernacular architecture has reinforced ideas of what is intimate, personal, social or public by repeating similar sensory and dimensional patterns. As a result, members of different cultures perceive space differently. For example, the traditional Japanese house with rice paper walls de-emphasizes the importance of auditory transmission for creating privacy; in Western culture, sound insulation is a requirement for private interactions. Small-scale design is therefore an opportunity to involve phenomenology in architecture, which can create lasting impact on the user.

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DESIGN AS A TOOL The conclusions I have reached while collecting my thoughts about what constitutes good design are eight facets of one statement: 1. Good design is a politically active.

2. Good design is economically sound.

3. Good design promotes health and well-being.

4. Good design affirms the place of humans in the ecological cycle.

5. Good design fosters stewardship by practicing stewardship.

6. Good design is resilient.

7. Good design challenges fundamental cultural values.

8. Good design teaches.

These criteria are interdependent and interwoven – it is impossible to succeed in one while omitting the others. This is not a list of discrete requirements for architects to follow through their design process, but rather eight ways to prove that sustainable design is good design. Architecture that fosters stewardship is healthy; healthy architecture is ecologically-attuned; ecologically-attuned architecture is resilient, and so on.

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The role of the architect is changing. The first major shift in what an architect did happened during the Renaissance, when Alberti cleaved the concept of the architect-builder into two distinct professions. For the next 6 centuries, architects were defined by their drawings rather than actual built form, thereby creating the role of the architect-

intellectual (Evans, 1997). I believe that in order to achieve the goals of sustainable design stated above, a new role must be introduced – the architect-citizen. Design is a discipline that already carries methods which can be applied to mitigate the crisis of overpopulation. An extension of the design mindset outside the traditional design field is uncharted territory that will enable not only surviving, but thriving.

The architect-citizen’s work does not lie in the built environment – they use the built environment as a medium to design their true subject, systems. Stewardship is the mentality behind sustainable design; culture is its context in which it operates and scale is its most valuable tool. I see my role as an architect in conjunction with other fields – the world needs architect-politicians, architect-researchers, architect-philosophers who slowly shift the paradigm of how we live.

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