It Takes a Village: Teaching Community Design-Build in the Rural Arctic

IT TAKES A VILLAGE TEAC H I NG C OMMU NI TY D ES I G N-B UILD IN THE RURA L A RCTIC a thes is s ub mitted to the BOS TON A RCHITECTURA L COLLEGE f or t h e degree of M A STER OF A RCHITECTURE Ja nua ry 2 0 1 5

R ach ae l Sky e Stu rm, Stu de n t

D e n i s e D e a, A dvi s o r

M i ch ae l W o lf s o n , D i re cto r

Preface Acknowledgments 11 INTRODUCTION

Thesis statement Abstract

Terms of criticism

A note on methods

Barrow Design-Build: an overview

Their story: student backgrounds 59 PART ONE : RESEARCH

Historical research: Arctic architecture

Understanding context: Piqniq

Cataloging conditions: rural constraints

Analyzing site: Barrow

123 PART TWO : ENGAGE

Participatory design: case studies

Building connections

Developing curriculum

161 PART THREE : DESIGN

Developing a framework

Concept: small, mobile, adaptable

Modules as teaching tool

Concept evolution

Student designs

233 PART FOUR : CONSTRUCT

Construction process: building in Barrow

Observation and adaptation

Toolkit for success 299 PART FIVE : SUSTAIN 328 CONCLUSIONS Bibliography

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Acknowledgments This thesis would not have been possible without the help of many wonderful people. To those listed below and any I failed to mention, you have my sincerest thanks.

Alessio, for unwavering support and partnership every day. Words cannot express how grateful I am to have had you by my side in this undertaking - and in all we do together.

My parents, for the adventurous introduction to rural Alaskan communities many years ago, for supporting my education, and for encouraging the development of my ideas.

My BAC cohort and advisors, whose camaraderie and intelligent discourse have filled my thesis journey with insight and fun. Special thanks to Chris, for countless conversations and encouragement, and to Denise, for a keen understanding of how to help me succeed.

Design Alaska, for supporting my educational endeavors, and the Bethel Church Group for allowing me to turn a professional project into a thesis experiment.

Iḡisaĥvik College, Umiaq, the City of Barrow, and the entire Barrow community, for the funding, logistical support, and enthusiastic participation which made the Design-Build project possible. Special thanks to Nick and Milly for tenacity and talent in teaching.

And finally, my students, for hard work and creativity. Without you, this thesis would have no purpose. For you and all the children of the Arctic, this is for your future.

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This book is more than my thesis. PREFACE This book represents the beginning of the realization of dreams I have been shaping since I first experienced the unique culture of rural Alaska, fifteen years ago, and since I first thought I needed to help preserve it.

So many of my passions have been shaped by making my life in the extreme climate and fascinating culture of Alaska. It is a wild place, comprised of vast expanses of raw landscape, almost untouched by the human inhabitants of its few cities. But certain groups of people have touched this land, lived with it and from it, for thousands of years. Many Alaska Natives still live far from urban centers, following subsistence lifestyles, hunting and gathering for much of

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their food, observing cultural traditions, and speaking traditional language, while at the same time living the integrated 21st century life of technology and fast-paced interests.

There are over 200 rural villages throughout Alaska, with populations that are largely Native Alaskan. My first experience in one such village was with my family when I was about eleven years old. We were on the way to accompany my scientist father in his remote fieldwork in the Brooks Range in northern Alaska. Due to inclement weather, we landed in Anaktuvuk Pass, a community of about 250 located approximately 100 miles from the next nearest settlement.

Our bush pilot and my father had enough

connections to get us a ride to the school, where we stayed in sleeping bags on the floor of the home economics classroom. In the evening, the whole community turned out for a basketball tournament and carnival, and the kids were excited to welcome us newcomers into their games. The unique culture and amazing setting of the village intrigued me from the beginning and rural Alaskan communities have held my fascination ever since.

Then, as now, changes in the environment, economics, and culture of the Arctic are placing Native communities in a tenuous position, their people often caught between two worlds where reconciliation seems difficult. Though the people have been on this land for centuries, the villages themselves are relatively new, a product of colonialism and the Western world. As a Western construct for an ancient culture,

there is much about the built environment of the villages that does not serve well the people who reside in them.

Since my visit to Anaktuvuk Pass, I have had further opportunities to visit Alaska’s rural villages in a professional capacity. On one such trip, a several-day visit to Marshall, a Central Yup’ik village on the Yukon River, to inspect newly constructed teacher housing, I was again sleeping on a classroom floor. As the school served as the community center, my coworkers and I were able to participate in a traditional dance and potlatch, a weekly tradition in this village. That night was special, however; it was Halloween.

With some dancers in traditional kuspuks and others in scary masks and costumes, it was an unique visual display of the amalgamation of cultural attributes that are typical of rural Alaskan communities.

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In one of the most rewarding experiences of my career, I flew to the village of Tanana, an Athabaskan community that is seeing major population decline. The event was a dedication of the 1958 school for which I had helped oversee remodeling and energy efficiency upgrades. The school was dedicated to a late beloved community member and matriarch, whose ten children and many friends, scattered to various towns and cities in Alaska, were coming home to see their old school re-named. Many stood and told stories of their youth in the village, stories of their culture and heritage that is slowly dying due to outmigration. The event was emotional for all, myself included. It fortified for me the notion that the vitality of Native Alaskan villages should be strengthened and preserved.

These experiences in my life came together, beginning to define for me the way I can

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make a difference, the way I can contribute to the sustainable future of these important communities.

I enrolled in the Master of Architecture program at the Boston Architectural College with these experiences in mind, intent on finding a way to make a difference to the communities of Alaska. My thesis was the outlet to explore the built environment of these communities, to explore architecture’s role in the lives of rural Alaska’s people, and to begin to figure out how those lives could be improved through a better built environment.

This book documents my thesis development and the project I undertook in one rural Alaskan village. But it represents more than just my thesis. It is the start to defining the role of architects in shaping and preserving the future of Alaska’s people.

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In this section Thesis statement Abstract Terms of criticism A note on methods Barrow Design-Build: an overview Their story: student backgrounds

An introduction to this thesis and its origins, this section includes an abstract and overview of the project, along with context information. My personal story and the stories of rural Alaskan students demonstrate my own reasons for developing these ideas and paint a picture of what life is really like in rural Alaska.

Asshirkcompetent human beings, we cannot the task of judging how things are and what needs to be done.

Amartya Sen, Development as Freedom

THESIS STATEMENT It Takes a Village: How to teach community design-build in the rural Arctic Utilizing small, mobile, adaptable structures as a teaching tool and model for new design thinking in rural Alaskan villages.

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ABSTRACT

Rural villages in Arctic Alaska are saddled with a built environment that does not reflect the material, environmental, or cultural context of the place. The architecture in these communities is failing in large part because it consists of imported ideas from outsiders who do not understand rural Arctic life. In order to improve this failing architecture, community members can be taught to design and build for themselves. In this sense, the architect’s role is as a teacher.

Teaching design-build in the villages engages community members in the design process, empowering them with the skills and knowledge to design and construct for themselves in the future. Design-build workshops lead residents to question existing paradigms and develop design solutions

which are rooted in the climatic and cultural environment of their home while utilizing familiar and easily-obtainable materials.

Small, mobile, adaptable structures comprise the architectural framework for teaching design-build in rural communities.

These ‘Teaching Pods’ provide a smallscale design challenge and represent a solution to the resource-wasting, inefficient, and inflexible architecture that is typical of rural Alaskan villages. The structures can be designed and built easily and with minimal resources, providing a quickly-realized finished structure from which lessons for future, more complex designs can be extrapolated. The structures serve to teach design and construction skills through a form of architecture adapted to the rural Arctic.

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A note on methods.

The majority of this book is focused on methods, since for most of the thesis journey, my focus was on process. In many ways, my goal for thesis was to develop the contents of this book, to define the process for engaging Arctic communities. This book is organized into five sections elaborating on the design-build process. The steps I took are detailed in each section.

The graphic opposite was developed very early on in my process, yet it is still very applicable to define my thesis. My thesis process has been spent filling in the details of methodology for achieving the complete cycle indicated in the diagram. Along the way, however, I have also developed a

keener awareness of my own methodology of work.

I process ideas through a balance of making, researching, talking and listening.

Making means letting my creativity come from within, creating something beautiful to represent those thoughts. Research represents the technical characteristics of the idea, and I often swing too far in this direction, getting caught up in details. Talking and listening have multiple aspects: they represent the simple act of discussion with others, and at the same time they are the heart of the engagement process that I love so much.

Talking and listening mean teaching and hearing the needs of a community.

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OVERVIEW Barrow Design-Build To test the methods and ideas proposed by this thesis, a case study was undertaken in Barrow, Alaska in the summer of 2014.

The case study was a two-week designbuild workshop for fourteen high school students from small villages across the state of Alaska. Over the course of the workshop, the teens worked with the author and two other instructors, another architect and a general contractor, to design and construct mobile community pavilions, which they donated to the City of Barrow for public use at the village playgrounds.

from guest lectures and around town, and learning from the history and culture of the Inupiat people in Barrow. The basics of structural design were taught with hands-on practice, and precedents were introduced for mobile architecture, pavilions, Arctic structures, and found object design. Each student developed and presented their own conceptual design for a pavilion, represented in drawings, digital models, and physical models. The group then combine the ideas into two structures, pulling aspects from each of their designs.

The first four days focused on design, incorporating field trips to the playgrounds for site analysis, gathering design inspiration

A week and a half was spent building the structures, learning tools and the construction process. The workshop

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culminated in a community presentation and the installation of the pavilions at Barrow’s public playgrounds, where they were well received by community members.

The following pages exhibit photos of the structures designed and built during the Barrow workshop. Full information on the preparation for the workshop and the process undertaken with the students to design and build in Barrow form the basis

for the information presented in this book.

Lessons learned from the case study are synthesized and offered here in the form of a guide for undertaking similar design-build workshops in rural communities, drawing solutions for rural architecture from the people who use it daily. The lessons learned from the Barrow case study are organized and presented in sections which model the workshop process: Research, Engagement, Design, and Construction.

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PAVILION: A.C. The two structures were named for the playgrounds where they were to be located; one was called A.C. because it was across from the Alaska Commercial grocery store, the other was named Sadie for the Sadie Neakok Memorial Playground where it was installed.

A.C. was installed at the playground in the Browerville area, the name for the more northern area of Barrow, where the hospital, museum, and grocery store are located.

A.C. developed a distinctive design that represented the traditional whaling culture of Barrow. As the design build project progressed, ideas that fit the more traditional, cultural mold were expressed in the design

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of A.C., whereas the more contemporary ideas were represented in the design of Sadie. A.C. therefore was the structure that used baleen, the hard keratin plates that make up the filter-feeding system of a whale’s mouth. A.C. also featured canvas stretched over curved ribs that formed sections of its walls and roof, hearkening to the skins stretched over the curved forms of the umiaq, the traditional whaling boats used by the Inupiat people.

Both structures were built on a sled base, part of the framework developed prior to the workshop and used as both a preliminary construction skills teaching platform as well as the basis for the two designs.

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Opposite page: details of A.C. This page: The pavilion shortly after installation at the playground.

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.AwaCy . wdied plnoatnnedena,ygd buroupunt dsiittefogdriveexpasarectalyntgsoothtedo vwieawtchoftheithre yoplung children.

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SADIE Sadie was the pavilion located at the less-frequented playground between the coast and the lagoon in Barrow. It is the larger playground, with more diverse play structures, and the students pulled some of their design inspiration from the immediate surroundings of those brightly colored structures.

Sadie represented a more contemporary design, mimicking the shape of typical houses and other buildings. The students were dedicated to painting it the colors of the Barrow high school and football team, displaying a typical mindset that sports teams are the pride and joy of village youth.

In addition to the blue, white, and gold

colors that brighten up the winter landscape, students painted parka ruffs and a whale’s tail on the structure, giving a nod to those aspects of Barrow’s culture.

Both structures utilized as many found materials as possible, with the majority of the structural framing for both coming from found timbers, the flooring from found boards, and some of the wall panels from plywood scraps donated by the Barrow Mayor. Sadie, however, represented the reuse concept more discernibly, using scrap metal decoratively to tie in with a circular theme which one student drew from the surroundings at the playground.

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s ’ e l ha w l u f i t u a e b a d e on t c n i a o t p Mtaial rionna the hasildineg ofcultSureadi(eand Whanelecrt wfoitoth btahle tweam) of Barrow.

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Opposite page: details of Sadie This page: Two boys ditch their bikes to enjoy playing on the new structure.

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Local children enjoying the portholes cut into Sadie’s walls.

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Physical isolation from the negative aspects ofresolvedlife thein complex larger communities has not issues of a society in transition.

Harold Straub, Bare Poles

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THEIR STORIES Industrial society perceives polar regions as frozen landscapes sparsely populated by rugged individual s coping fatal i stical l y with impossibl e odds.

Harold Straub, Bare Poles

The reality is far from this myth. To lead rural communities in design, it is vital to begin to grasp the complex context of contemporary everyday life. The people of rural Alaska are living a typical American life in many ways, yet there are aspects of this Arctic world that seem foreign, idiosyncratic, and atavistic to Westerners. To paint a picture of what life is like in rural Alaska, the following pages introduce real people and their individual

stories. These are some of the teens who participated in the Barrow Design Build.

They come from villages across the state and represent the diversity as well as the commonalities those communities share. The students represented here are grouped by their home villages with a short introduction to each place. Following is an overview of the general conditions of life in rural Alaska, of a world that is in the midst of transition.

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Branham, Misha, Anuralria, and Joe CHEVAK These four youth have grown up together in the small village of Chevak. They have lived there all their lives, and are good friends.

Misha and Anu (as he likes to be called) are cousins. They have all been to Anchorage, but Branham is the only one who has ever traveled outside of Alaska. All four of them love to go out boating, to hunt subsistence with their families, and to listen to music or play on their iPhones.

Their favorite foods range from hot dog and fries (teen staple) to moose soup. They were all excited to try muktuk (whale blubber) in Barrow, because in Chevak people don’t hunt whales; mostly they subsist on seals and land mammals. Anu was proud to be

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bringing home a couple of boxes of muktuk for his family, gifted by an elder in Barrow.

The four youth all say they plan to go to college after they graduate high school, though like most teens, they don’t really know their plans yet. Branham says his dream job is to become a carpenter, and he came to the design-build workshop with a strong desire to learn woodworking skills to help achieve his dream.

Chevak is located in Southwest Alaska, less than five miles from Hooper Bay off the Bering Sea. The population of just under 800 is approximately 90% Native Alaskan, with the majority of those identifying as Cu’pik, a linguistic group that speak a dialect of Yu’pik.

The land around Chevak is mostly permafrost, which creates a saturated bed

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of lakes and swampy tundra. The students from Chevak have first hand experience with a problem common to buildings in Alaska; their old school (pictured at right) has been condemned as it sinks into the thawing permafrost beneath it. Like most communities in Alaska, building maintenance is rare and makeshift, since there is no lumber store and materials cost a fortune to ship in. By the time enough capital funds get allocated to the village to fix their school, it makes more sense to build a new one, as Chevak did.

Chevak, like most coastal villages in Alaska, has excellent wind resources, yet many still rely mainly on costly diesel fuel generators for heat and power. More projects are underway to bring wind power, or winddiesel hybrid generators to communities that have the resources, and Chevak is one of the first to have a wind farm that supplies the majority of its power.

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Dennis and CHEFORNAK Geoffrey These two boys are from Chefornak. Like the Chevak kids, neither has ever been out of Alaska. Both are quiet boys, and in traditional Yu’pik fashion they often speak more with body language than with words; responding yes to an inquiry involves simply raising their eyebrows. Geoffrey and Dennis both speak Yu’pik fluently and often speak or write in a combination of Yu’pik and English, transitioning easily between the two languages.

Both boys love to be outside and love to go hunting. They like riding their four-wheelers and their snowmachines, and enjoying going out on the river with their families.

They hunt seals, muskox, moose, and ducks,

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and they were thrilled to get the chance to try muktuk, since they had never been to a place where whales are hunted before.

Chefornak has a population of just over 400, the majority of which identify as Yu’pik.1 The geography of Chefornak is distinct for the area, with igneous rocks from volcanic eras dotting the landscape. The Kinia River which borders the town is crucial to the transportation and subsistence of the Chefornak people. As with almost all of the villages, the people in Chefornak obtain most of their food by hunting and gathering.

In addition to houses and the store, Chefornak has a school, a power plant, a post office, a bingo hall, and a church (pictured opposite). For the Native Alaskans, Christianity was forced a century ago with Western colonization. Despite its inimical 1

Community Database Online

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introduction however, almost all rural villages in Alaska have a church, and many like Chefornak are devout, centering around the church and embracing Catholicism.

Like Chevak and many coastal or riverbank villages, Chefornak buildings are constructed on pilings and lifted above the permafrost and flood-susceptible ground.

In Chefornak, networks of boardwalks connect the houses and buildings so people can walk above the saturated tundra. Fourwheelers and snowmachines are far more common than trucks and cars, since there are few roads within the villages and almost none connecting them. Youth like Dennis and Geoffrey learn to drive a four-wheeler or snowmachine early in life, and many kids get their own machines before they are teens so they can accompany their family to hunting camps outside the village.

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Lena and KirstenNENANA Lena and Kirsten are not from Nenana, but they are both spending the majority of their time there as they attend boarding school.

A generation ago, boarding schools were not seen positively. They were put in place by the American government as a tool for assimilation; they tore children away from their families and forced them to forget their native language and traditions. Today, however, there are three boarding schools in the state, and they are making an effort to repair the damage of their predecessors.

Parents send their children to boarding school to get a better education. Teacher turnover is extremely high in the villages, as are truancy and dropout rates. The boarding schools offer more consistency and rigidity,

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and today they do focus on native language education as well as vocational skills that can help students in the future.

Kirsten, who also likes to be called Cingliaq, is from Mountain Village, but she has spent the better part of her youth in Fairbanks, living with a relative. She misses her dad in Mountain Village, but she doesn’t like living there. According to her, many of the kids cause trouble and are very disrespectful to parents and teachers. Young children have much more autonomy in the villages than in urban places, and in some ways are raised by the whole village. By the time they are teens, however, many youth see the villages as lacking any entertainment, so they make it for themselves in sometimes destructive ways. When asked if they respect the villages elders, however, Kirsten says, “Of course! Everyone respects the elders.”

Respect for elders is perhaps the most widely practiced traditional Native value.

In historic times, the elders were those who passed on traditional knowledge for hunting and living in the harsh environment. They were central figures in the community. Now young people now get their education from Western teachers. They respect their elders when they see them, but spend more time in their rooms, on their phones. The multigenerational family structures of the past are still in place, but the bonds are weaker.

While Kirsten’s home of Mountain Village has about 700 residents, Lena is from the largest community in Western Alaska. Bethel (opposite page) has over 6,000 residents, and serves as a hub for the 50 villages in the western region of Alaska2. Bethel is host to the only correctional facility, hospital, and alcohol treatment center in the area.

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City of Bethel

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WAINWRIGHT Billy Billy was the sole Inupiat student attending the design-build workshop. Billy has a large extended family network that is spread throughout several villages. He has lived in many villages with different branches of his family throughout his youth. Before the design-build workshop he was living in Barrow with his mom, but shortly after the camp he moved to Wainwright, about 100 miles west of Barrow on the coast. Though the villages are far apart with no roads between them, residents often travel among them. It is not unusual for family members to live with distant relatives in another village, a lifestyle choice that seems remnant of the extended family organization of historic semi-nomadic groups.

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Marina and Michael GALENA Marina and Michael are both friends and relatives; though they are both 17, Michael is Marina’s uncle. Both are actually from the town of Marshall, Alaska, but like Kirsten and Lena, they attend boarding school away from home. Their home village is a Yup’ik community, but their school is in Galena, a traditionally Athabaskan village of just under 500 residents.

Between World War II and the Cold War, Galena served as a small air force base. In the later part of the 20th century, it saw only occasional military use, and was officially turned over the the City of Galena in 2010.

The boarding school attended by Michael

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and Marina uses the old military barracks and other remaining facilities as its dorms, classrooms, and cafeteria. The school was conceived by the community under the leadership of an Athabaskan elder who saw the abandoned military structures as an opportunity to bring better education to Alaska’s rural residents. The village lobbied heavily for the federal and state funds to support the institution.3 The school offers vocational training along with a rigorous academic curriculum.

Students come from all over the state’s both rural and urban areas to attend the vocational programs, which give them a chance to graduate with industry-standard certification. With programs ranging from aviation to culinary arts to cosmetology, the certifications give village students a leg up in a world where they are often challenged 3

About G.I.L.A.

to graduate from high school.4 The school and the certifications it offers are another draw away from village life, however. There are not many jobs in the villages unless they are government positions or with the school district. Many of the boarding school students will be drawn to more urban areas, or they will return to a semi-subsistence life with their families and not use their certifications.

Marina is a star student, dedicated to her academics away from home. Michael works hard but is most enamored with his vocational classes, particularly welding.

Both see the skills they learn in their vocational classes and during the designbuild workshop as useful to bring back to their home community.

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Andrews 2013

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Native Alaskans in the state’s rural villages live a fascinating life, a mix of both ancient traditions and contemporary culture. This mix, which has been developing in the last century as a result of Western colonialism and globalization, has both a positive and a negative side to it. Youth growing up in the villages have unique multicultural backgrounds. They learn their Native values and are taught to practice their traditions, including those that keep them so engaged with the land they live on. At the same time, they are part of the global society, utilizing modern tools to stay connected to the big world through social media and travel. This interconnectivity brings contemporary life to the villages but also allows the unique culture of those communities to be shared with the world.

However, the mix of culture and traditions, and the rapid transition the villages have

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undergone in the last hundred years has not brought about only positive benefits.

Statistics about life in rural Alaskan villages display sobering social issues, most of them introduced during Western expansion to the northern state or a result of the collective post-traumatic stress brought by forced assimilation.

Along with disease and destruction, Westerners introduced alcohol to the Native Alaskans. Though most of the rural villages today ban the sale or possession of alcohol, alcohol abuse and dependence are prevalent and contribute to high rates of domestic violence, suicide, heath issues, loss of child custody, and intergenerational grief.5 Domestic violence is particularly damaging to rural communities, which are insular, 5

Seale 2006.

lack law enforcement, and are set within the harsh Arctic environment. The violent crime rate in Alaska is 55% higher than the national average, and in the villages it is even worse. In Chevak, a representative example, the violent crime rate is 55% higher than the state average.6 Teen pregnancy is not uncommon in rural communities, with the rate in Alaska significantly higher than the national average. Within Alaska, 44% of teen pregnancies are Alaska Natives.7 Village residents receive payouts from the government in compensation for the takeover of their lands, but there are few jobs available and poverty is common. In the Yukon-Koyukuk and Bethel regions, where most of the students are from, per capita income is just over $18,000 per year.8 6 www.areavibes.com 7 Alaska Adolescent Reproductive Health Facts 8 2010 US Census Data

Fuel costs and preservation challenges making shipping fresh food to the villages difficult. Most villages have a small store, but the only goods available are items like chips and soda. Residents eat a combination of Native food and the high-sugar, highpreservative options available. Obesity and health issues are common. 30% of adults living in rural communities are obese, compared to 25% of non-rural Alaskans.9 Architecture is not the root cause of these issues, but when Western expansion forced nomadic Native people to settle in villages, it separated them in some ways from their deep connections with the land. The built environment of the villages supports a Western education and a Western way of life, not the Native traditions. Architecture is not the only factor of a solution to these issues, but it sorely needs to be addressed.

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Fenaughty 2010

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In this section Historical research: Arctic architecture Understanding context: Piqniq Cataloging conditions: rural constraints Analyzing site: Barrow Establishing existing support: Ilisagvik The first step in teaching community design build is to gain an understanding about the community. Research in the above categories will greatly strengthen an architect’s ability to communicate with and guide community participants. It is impossible to understand everything about that community from research, but it is an important beginning in order to abolish existing assumptions that stem from an outside perspective.

Alaska Native traditions are borne from centuries of living with the land.

If a meaningful development is to be achieved, itwithcantheonlypast.come from ways that harmonize Gary Anders, UAA Economics

HISTORICAL RESEARCH The Inupiat have been in the Arctic for thousands of years, and their traditional building techniques reflect centuries of understanding the land around them. “There is an enormous traditional knowledge of building in the Arctic, which has evolved over time to produce many refined architectural solutions.�1 In the past, spacial configurations of Arctic indigenous settlements and buildings were deeply interwoven with spiritual conceptions, seasonal hunting traditions, and the land itself.

In the villages today, however, remnants of historic huts have all but faded back into the 1

Muller 2010

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land from which they were built. Changes brought by Western colonialism through explorers, traders, and the US government permanently affected the Inupiat and other Native Alaskan societies, as has the architecture those influences brought with them.

The way of life of people in Alaska’s rural communities is not completely assimilated.

It is a life of a people immutably connected to the land, a people who still hunt and gather for much of their sustenance, who still embrace their ancient traditions, and whose social and family structures are struggling to find a way through the devastating effects of Western contact and control.

The traditions of the people are enduring, but the built environment of rural Alaska does not support their culture. It is a relic, in disrepair and failing programatically. It is costly to sustain, both monetarily and in terms of cultural impact.

The changes in the built environment of Alaska’s rural villages represent a shift in typology, a shift in the way buildings are used and defined. Until recently, the Inupiat lived entirely off the land, hunting and gathering for their subsistence, and utilizing their resources to survive in the extreme environment of the Arctic. They traveled with their food sources, following the herds and shifting their camps based on the season. Their architecture changed along with their camps, reflecting “a creative dynamic response to severe limitations of resources, climatic conditions, and subsistence options.”2 Availability of 2

Walker 2010

materials, the routines of the occupants, and location all played a role in defining the use of a structure, and one hut might house many different functions.

Whereas traditional structures were used and defined seasonally, today’s buildings are used categorically in the Western model: e.g. a house, a church, a school.3 Yet the patterns of daily life for the Inupiat people are still defined seasonally, by climate and available game. Today’s Westernized architecture frequently does not fit the way of life of the Inupiat and other indigenous Arctic people.

Architecture can not solve social problems, but it can contribute to solutions. The architecture of rural Alaska needs to do more positive good than the negative it has already done.

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Cooke 2009

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The solutions is not a complete return to the past, as the influence of Western control brought with it the comforts of insulation, central heating, and a monetary structure that is not going away.

However, lessons can and must be learned from the past. Critical observation must

be paid to the patterns of life that are still ingrained in the northern people, but no longer supported in their architecture. Native Alaskan people have learned to adapt to new forms of architecture. It is time that the architecture in these communities became more adaptable by the people and more adapted to their ways of life.

IashaveI haveseen seen the house where my father was born, the house where I was born.

Thea millennia. differenceI between the homes may represent have lived amongst structures ingeniously made - by the Inuit: the real people.

Andrew Tooyak, Point Hope elder

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During our ancestors’ time, they said that the qargi was the foundation of a community.

A place without a qargi wasn’t recognized as a community.

Qasgi-gguq una nunauguq ciuliamteni. Qasgiilkuneng nunanek apaamangaunateng.

Frank Andrew, Kwigillingok elder

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15,000 BCE

2,000 BCE

500 CE

1741

1743-1867

1848

First migration of people from Asia to Alaska across Bering Land Bridge.

Migration of ancestors of Inpuiat people across Bering Land Bridge. People live in extended family groups and migrate seasonally to hunt for their subsistence. The Inupiat hunt whale, walrus, seal, caribou, birds, fish, and other similar animals.

They establish semipermanent, seasonal camps at various sites to support the hunting patterns.

Archaeological records indicate first inhabitants of Ukpeagvik (Barrow) area.

Russian expedition led by Vitus Bering lands at Kayak Island, Alaska and first contact is made between Europeans and Native Alaskans.

Explorers return to Russia with reports of plentiful fur-bearing animals.

Russian fur trade underway in Alaska.

Russians built forts and settlements on Alaskan lands. Some conflicts occurred between Native populations and Russian traders.

Russians brought disease and forced Native Alaskans to work for the fur trade, causing hardship that led to many deaths.

Russians brought religion and forced some Native Alaskans to convert and give up language and traditions.

First American whaling ship in Inupiat waters.

Significant whaling follows, nearly wiping out the bowhead whale and the walrus populations, which the Inupiat depend on for subsistence. Fur traders accompany whalers and introduce monetary economy to Inupiat people, along with deadly disease.

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British Navy searches for missing expedition and contributes to disease and decimation of Inupiat population.

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1867-1970

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1971-2013

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The United States purchases Alaska from the Russians, with little to no consideration given to the Native residents of the land.

The Inupiat and other tribes continued to live as sovereign nations while the US government paid them little attention.

In keeping with the treatment of Native Americans in other parts of the country, the mindset of the 19th century US government was not favorable to the Native Alaskans.

Americans begin to settle in regions of Alaska, many driven north by the Gold Rush. The US military establishes bases and installations around the state. Governance and law enforcement of Native people is controlled by marshals supported by the military. US government builds schools and civic facilities, missionaries build churches, and the semi-nomadic Native people are coerced to live in settlements. Boarding schools established as assimilation tool, separating families and preventing Native Alaskans from practicing traditions or speaking their native languages.

The formation of the village of Anaktuvuk Pass marks the last semi-nomadic tribe of Inupiat people to permanently settle.

The Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act (ANCSA) signed into effect. The act grants the Native people 40 million acres, divided among 220 villages and twelve Regional Corporations which were established by the Act. The corporations were also given $462.5 million over an eleven year period plus $500 million in mineral revenues.

Individuals who belong to the corporations still receive payouts annually, ranging from hundreds to thousands of dollars.

In some communities, Native populations gain more autonomy, while in others the US government plays a stronger role. Federal finances continue to provide funding for village buildings, while housing corporations build homes. For most of this period, buildings in rural Alaska are still constructed inefficiently and with no regard to the culture of the communities they serve. In 2006, the Cold Climate Housing Research Center is formed, which begins to research more sustainable and culturally appropriate ways of building homes in Alaskan villages.

As a result of colonization, Alaska Native communities are still in upheaval.

Villages are plagued by rampant social issues stemming from their collective post-traumatic stress.

Outmigration to urban areas shrinks communities while those who stay deal with alcoholism, domestic violence, suicide, and rapid environmental change. Animal populations are in decline and the land is mined for oil while the residents pay exorbitant prices to heat their homes.

Despite their struggles, the Native people maintain a tenuous yet significant hold on their traditions.

Alaska statehood ratified. Statehood Act made allowances for the State to acquire land from the public domain, stipulating that Native lands were exempt. State immediately began acquiring land in use by Native communities. Native people begin to organize and fight back for their lands, initiating years of legal battles.

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In the summer months, the semi-nomadic Inupiat people often used skin tents.

Their winter houses were generally semisubterranean, with a lower entrance tunnel.

The homes were typically rectangular in shape, framed from driftwood or whale bones, and were ten by fifteen feet at the most. Two families, or eight to twelve people typically lived in each dwelling.

The low tunnel entrance was a typical strategy for environmental control. Cold was trapped in the low tunnel, which narrowed as it approached the living area to further discourage drafts. The living area had excavated storage areas and elevated sleeping platforms, again taking advantage of the principle that heat rises.

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The qargi were the place where all the men would eat, sleep, and construct boats, sleds, and hunting tools. The children of the village came to the qargi to listen to their elders tell stories, giving them the moral foundation for life and their cultural traditions. The communal buildings were for festivals and dances. The qargi was often semi-subterranean and framed with driftwood or whale bones, with a seal-intestine skylight on top for light and smoke relief.

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Although not architecture, the umiaq is a ubiquitous structure in the rural Arctic, and is actually used as shelter occasionally when flipped on its side.

The structure is build from wood ribs with seal skins stretched over it. The skins are typically sewed with caribou sinews which expand when wet to seal the stitch holes. The oldest umiaq ever found is about 500 years old, though it is likely they were in use before that time.

Likely a similar style of sled to that shown below was developed around the same time as the umiaq boats. Today these sleds are built from wood and are used to push the umiaqs around over snow and sea ice.

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Quonset Huts were installed by the military because they could be erected quickly, were easily adapted to various uses, and could house multiple functions. After WWII, the huts were bought up by the state during a housing crisis when they proved to be more suitable than Western-style houses for people used to cohabiting all in one room. Today, Quonset Huts are adapted for a multitude of purposes.

They have proven to be both physically and programatically durable.

The Wanigan was another military installation in Alaska in the mid 20th century. When the Navy was establishing a base and exploring the petroleum reserve on the North Slope, they hauled freight with trains of Wanigan trailers linked together. The trailers could serve double duty as habitation in settlements.

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1950

1980

1997

Historic tents were traditionally made from skins or caribou hides, but as Western traders arrived in the Arctic with supplies, the Inupiat adapted their materials and methods. Today tents are made from heavy duty canvas or parachute fabric. These tents are used by whaling crews when they are searching for whales. The crew sets up camp and can spend days to weeks on the ice.

NARL (the naval base near Barrow) was decommissioned, and its buildings were taken over by various entities in the village. Many supplies and materials for the base were taken by residents and used to construct or repair the homes at Pigniq, the duck camp north of Barrow. The example below made a common adaptation to the home using skis that appear to be from a military Wanigan.

Several snow fences were built around Barrow to protect the homes and roadways from drifting snow. The longest fence is over two kilometers and works by creating a wind eddy and pulling blowing snow down before it hits the community.

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2014

The house below is representative of government housing built for North Slope residents by the Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD). Many residents in rural Alaska live in inefficient HUD homes from the latter part of the 20th century, but a few are receiving new homes with higher standards of construction. In a few cases, though not in Barrow, HUD homes are based on sustainable and culture-centric prototypes developed by the Cold Climate Housing Research Center (CCHRC). Only one home has been developed for Inupiat communities, however, and it is already at least eight years old.

Though the house below was constructed prior to 2014, it represents what contemporary housing is like today in the community of Barrow. Materials weather rapidly in the harsh conditions of the Arctic, giving structures a uniform gray hue and reducing the desire of many to paint or brighten them often. Most houses have an Arctic entryway (shown below as the box extending away from the house, and are elevated or festooned with a network of palette boardwalks to keep feet and foundations away from swampy tundra. The house below was likely self built or adapted from an existing structure. The Arctic entry was almost certainly added after original construction.

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Weuse won’t solve the [challenge] unless we people’s own power for building.

Alejandro Aravena, Elemental

CONTEXT: PIGNIQ As all designers know, constraints breed creativity. People living in rural communities are already adept at adapting and being creative with the resources at hand. It is another crucial step in the research phase of a community design-build project for the designer to study how the community members already use their resources and adapt to their local environment. Much can be learned by studying the contemporary vernacular of a place. When left to their own devices, how do the people build for themselves?

The following pages present a study performed in the research stage of the Barrow Design-Build workshop. The study focuses

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on the architecture of a cabin community near Barrow and known as Pigniq, or Duck Camp. The cabins at Pigniq are a beautiful, unique example of the contemporary Arctic vernacular.

Many of the cabins were used as permanent residences about 40 years ago. Barrow citizens who grew up in the cabins still tell stories of what life was like in the small, uninsulated shacks. Today, however, the cabins are used only on holidays and weekends. They are a place to barbecue and spend time with family, to hunt some of the plentiful ducks which give the spot its name, and sometimes, to throw parties away from the law enforcement of a ‘damp’

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community where alcohol possession is strictly limited and sale is forbidden.

In English, Pigniq is called Duck Camp, so named because its location between the Chukchi Sea to the northwest and North Salt Lagoon to the southeast puts it right on the frequent path of various ducks who split their time between the bodies of water.

Today, Pigniq is only a ten minute drive from Barrow, but in historic times, when travel was mainly by foot or by dog team, the camp was part of a chain of small settlements that were occupied at various times throughout the year, whenever the hunting in each area was prime. As the settlement of Barrow grew more permanent in the early 1900s, some residents settled in Pigniq, where their family had already held claim to the land for generations. The cabins today are owned by decedents of those same families, and

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the area is only open to building on by members of Ukpeagvik Inupiat Corporation, the corporation which owns almost all of the land on Alaska’s north slope.

The cabins are built by hand, by their owners, and some are modified or rebuilt each year as the weather takes its toll. The structures are mostly wood and none are insulated. Many of the materials used to build the cabins are scraps recycled from NARL, the decommissioned naval base north of Barrow. As with any village, what comes in to Barrow never goes out; shipping costs are prohibitively expensive. Because of this, there is a multitude of scrap materials all around, some of which may belong to individual owners, but most of which are unclaimed, destined to rot away on the land unless they are used creatively by the community. The Pigniq cabins represent an example of that creative reuse.

The designs of the structures follow the same pattern of rectangular, simple, box forms like much of the western-influenced architecture of the Arctic. They have a nuanced air to them however. There is clear indication that the owners of the structures put their own aesthetic into the designs. No two of the structures are alike, and many have design elements that appear to be built for reasons other than simple availability or practicability.

Though the houses are each idiosyncratic and interesting in their own right, it is the way they all appear to function together that is truly educational in terms of their success as a design for the community. Because they are built from similar materials and in a few basic forms, the cabins are unique but unified in appearance. In addition, they are arranged to have clear relationships with each other - or to be more exact, to have

clear relationships to the exterior space between them.

In a culture that has for centuries been much more tied to the outdoor landscape than interior space, the importance of exterior space at Pigniq is very apparent. Most of the structures have decks, typically simple platforms of recycled pallets set in front of the structure. On the decks, or even on the bare ground by the cabins, are all manner of chairs, sofas, and benches. Clearly these are social areas.

In addition, almost every house has some sort of play structure attached to it; most frequently this is a basketball hoop, but there are several swing-sets using houses as structural support, and the area is dotted with skateboard ramps and boards set up for a traditional Inupiat jumping game similar to see-sawing.

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Opposite page: the various cabin forms and accouterments that make up Duck Camp.

This page: the material palette of buildings and objects becomes uniform over time; weathered.

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Seating areas indicate space for gathering while tables suggest a space for preparing animals after the hunt. The use of exterior space communicates a cultural value of the Inupiat, where community often acts as a large extended family. What Westerners would see as “private� outdoor space is actually very communal. Leisure time is important and reflected in the layout of the camp.

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An enclosed interior space with few openings leads to an open space for socializing, creating a progression of private to public space. Most of the active living happens in the exterior, public space. This is similar to the construct of the traditional Inupiat camps and homes.

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A graphic analysis of the exterior communal space at Pigniq. The red circles represent animal prep areas, the orange are smaller social spaces, the yellow are large communal spaces, and the blue are children’s play areas.

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The forms of Pigniq can be simplified to a few basic types. Construction is typical stick framed, with no standardization of components; whatever is available is used.

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Author’s sketches of the cabins at Pigniq.

Opposite page: the round roof portion of the house is a salvaged Quonset Hut structure.

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A popular place on summer weekends, Pigniq can have an abandoned feel during the week due to the derelict condition of the cabins.

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Weno doubt are about an adaptable people.

There is that. We’ve had to be.

Sheila Watt-Cloutier, Inuit activist

RURAL CONSTRAINTS Organizing a design-build workshop in a rural community has many factors for consideration that are not part of a typical participatory design effort or construction project in an urban zone.

Researching the constraints of design and construction in these small, remote locations is important on a practical level in order to be able to carry out the design-build workshop with success. However, cataloging the constraints of the communities is vital in a broader sense as well. It is crucial for architects designing in rural communities to understand how materials are transported and managed, what limitations the environment creates for those same materials,

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and how things can be quickly adapted in scenarios where typical resources are simply not available. A very real concern of all projects is the budget, and this is of particular consideration when the project is in a remote location - everything costs more than in a typical urban environment, and if supplies are purchased and not used, there is nowhere for them to go or to be returned.

Proper planning and resourcefulness are paramount.

Researching the logistical and material constraints of a region or community before undertaking a design-build project is crucial.

The following pages present an example of this stage of the process in the research done

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transport within community transport between communities

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hunting transport shipping transport

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on these characteristics for Arctic Alaska.

The rural communities of Arctic Alaska pose many challenges for design and construction due to their extreme remoteness.

The population centers of the global Arctic are almost all smaller settlements than cities located further south. Rural villages, each with a population of less than 1000, number over 200 across the state of Alaska, with only a few larger exceptions. The villages are spread far and wide, and very few have access by road. Most can be reached only by small plane, with larger material shipments coming to the more accessible villages by river barge - typically one barge shipment per year.

Materials native to this region are minimal, limited to snow, tundra (sod), and animal parts. There are no trees for lumber, though

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driftwood may occasionally wash up on shore.

Some man-made materials are readily available, however, as byproducts or castoffs from regular shipping and construction industries. These include dimensional lumber, shipping pallets, plywood, sheet metal, and a few other materials with nuanced uses in the far north. These are generally durable materials, but the extreme conditions of the Arctic are harsh on anything. The longevity of any construction in the north is short.

The difficulty of transporting materials from their source necessarily limits their size and weight. This investigation into material availability and durability led to further critique of large, resource-heavy, permanent, and high-maintenance construction. These concerns can be addressed with a mobile, adaptable solution.

whale bones + baleen availability: usability: function:

few whales per year, only for natives difficult; very large, must be cleaned decorative, structural

snow availability: usability: function:

plentiful august - may not available in summer, easy, common insulation, winter adaptation, additional wind walls

driftwood availability: usability: function:

summer tides - scarce versatile, could have rot structural, decorative

tundra (sod) availability: limited summertime thaw, plentiful usability: historic use, small scale - no tools function: insulation, cladding, roofing, subterranean component

skins + furs availability: personal; harvest dependent usability: pliable, flexible function: cladding; interior or exterior, light transmitting 101

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In rural communities, it is vital to put together a materials list before the workshop, to determine what is available in the village and what needs to be pre-ordered and shipped in.

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People who are inseparable from the land, who depend on it for sustenance, do not lose their way.

Harold Straub, author, Bare Poles

ANALYZING SITE Site analysis is important on multiple levels for community design-build. As with any project, site analysis is an essential part of the design process, but in community designbuild, it becomes a means of education as well. Both the community members and the architect can learn from and teach each other in the process of site analysis.

The architect comes armed with the tools and knowledge of what to analyze and how to observe the site, but lacking a true understanding of life within the rural community. The participants in the designbuild process, on the other hand, likely have no experience of site analysis in terms of architectural design, but they have the

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understanding that can only come from thousands of generations of living at the site itself.

Site analysis, therefore, goes beyond the typical process for a design project, and becomes and exchange of information between the architect and the community.

It opens new channels for the residents to explore and question their existing paradigms, while providing a window into village life that the architect would not normally find.

The first step in site analysis is for the architect to establish basic knowledge of the community in terms of physical and

climatic environment, land use, culture, and local building techniques. The architect needs an understanding of the place before interaction with the community begins, and knowledge of the general characteristics of the site is crucial for developing the design framework. In addition, the architect will need to be able to guide design-build participants in their own site observations during the workshop.

An example of site analysis completed prior to engaging a community in design build

is provided in the following pages through a series of diagrams. The site analyzed is Barrow, Alaska, where the two-week design-build workshop was held in summer 2014. The diagrams map location, terrain, solar angles throughout the year, the way the built environment fits within the natural environment, wind speed and direction, cultural activities, and livelihoods on the land. These are just a few examples of the data that can be collected and analyzed on the project site prior to community engagement.

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Opposite page: location maps indicate Barrow’s northern latitude. This page: three potential locations for the workshop project.

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NARL (the decommissioned naval base where Ilisagvik is located) with Browerville and Barrow in the background. Photo by Jim Chaplin.

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Map of the roads, trails, and runway in Barrow and Browerville.

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Figure ground showing buildings and open areas in Barrow and Browerville.

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Essentially the inverse of the built environment, the water around Barrow includes lagoons, the sea, and waterlogged polygonal ground. The enlarged circle shows how water seeps into cracks in the tundra and forms ice wedges in a polygon pattern, with water filling in the center.

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Building usage is indicated by the varying colors of the map.

residential

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recreation

educational

commercial

government/utility

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Opposite page: the vast network of trails indicate how connected people are to the land beyond the village. This page: In summer, the sun remains in the sky 24 hours, rotating 360 degrees. In the warm shoulder seasons, daylight hours match lower latitudes. In winter, the sun is below the horizon for over two months, setting in late November and not rising again until February.

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In this section Participatory design: case studies Building connections Developing curriculum

The heart of participatory design is to engage the community in the design process.

The design team can better understand the users needs and desires for the project, and the community becomes more deeply connected with the project. In rural villages, keeping community members invested in the success of a project is imperative - they will be the only ones there to support and maintain the project when the design team leaves. The following chapters offer a guide to engaging a community in design-build.

The fact is, architecture is teamwork.

Andrew Freear, Rural Studio director

PARTICIPATORY DESIGN Participatory design is an approach to architecture which “involves the user in the early stages of architectural production, leading to an environment that has not only a sense of more ownership but is more responsive to change.” Participatory design brings empowerment to communities and a form of democracy to the design process.

A wide variety of activities and tools can and have been used by architects to involve community stakeholders in the creative decision making process, and to identify their cultural, emotional, spiritual, and practical needs. The participatory design process should be engaging for the community members, it should be personal,

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and it should produce feedback that is specific to the end users. The process should serve to connect the people to the design; to give them ownership.

In rural Alaskan communities, isolated from the urban world, this ownership is crucial.

Once a building is built, it is left to the village, with little to no technical support, to maintain it and use it as designed. Most architecture in the villages today suffers from this lack. The people of the village don’t have the knowledge to maintain buildings as well as they should be maintained, but perhaps more importantly, the village residents typically don’t care. Whether it is a sense of detachment from the western

architectural forms, resentment of their presences, or simply neglect, people in the villages often do not work to maintain their homes, let along their public buildings.

When everything from housing to schools is a holdover from 1970s government construction through ANCSA or newly built but separate from the true needs of the place, there is not much of the ownership needed to care for the built environment and keep it supporting its people.

To include community members in the design process is a good start in giving them this much needed ownership, but more can be done. A participatory design-build process invests community members fully into the building, from start to finish, while at the same time teaching them the skills and knowledge to understand how the building works and how to support and maintain it.

In the design phase of community designbuild, the process should strive to break out of the typical community charrette session and test unique ways of probing deeper into a community’s desires and needs.

Cultural Probes, as defined by William Gaver, are a method for achieving this goal. Cultural Probes are “collections of evocative tasks meant to elicit inspirational responses from people - not comprehensive information about them, but fragmentary clues about their lives and thoughts.” Rather than asking a for direct input on a particular design issue, the probes attempt to dig deeper into the community’s overall desires, then interpret those, with the community’s help, into a design. Gaver’s Cultural Probes included examples such as dream journals, mapping of places of personal significance, and prompts given along with disposable cameras to create a photo log. The probes

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essentially establish a narrative about the participants, and that narrative is then used to shape design.

Cultural Probes remove any assumption on the part of the designer that he or she can immediately understand the needs of the users through simple questioning. Removing this assumption frees the architect to design more creatively and to pay attention to small details from the users stories which may otherwise be overlooked or ignored.

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Two case studies were examined which sought to engage users through similar probing exercises, establishing their narrative. The premise of these studies and the Cultural Probes is that there is value in the uncertainty of a personal narrative; that it can probe deeper into community members needs and attributes, therefore leading to better design. The case studies chosen focused on the process of telling stories.

There is an underlying quality to stories

which make them a valuable tool in the design process: they are subjective. There is value in the uncertainty of an exploratory narrative because it allows for creativity in interpretation. An important traditional value or belief which a community is unable to express in a building-specific participatory design process may come through in a story. Storytelling is a means of articulation for community clients, and is the beginning of an iterative creative process in which the architect interprets the narrative and retells the story back to the community through design.

This iterative exchange of information and ideas through stories and design is an important aspect of the participatory process. It is not enough to engage the community only at the outset. Throughout the entire journey of design, the architect should continually check in with the end users to

ensure the interpretation of the narratives is still in line with the values and needs of the community. This is an important consequence of storytelling and similar probing methods of participatory inquiry. The community response is deeper and more valuable to the design process, but it is open to the subjective interpretation of the architect. This in itself is valuable as well, but it is important that the architect continue to engage the community throughout the entire process to ensure that interpretation continues to meet their needs.

In 2011, a workshop was run in Nairobi, Kenya which sought to explore the pros and cons of participatory design techniques in the local slums through action research methodology. The “case settlement� of the workshop was Mashimoni, a village in the Mathare Valley in Kenya. The purpose of the workshop was to develop participatory

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design techniques for working with slum dwellers. One of the key questions the workshop sought to answer was how to move from data collection, or input, to the output of design.

Three stages of activities were undertaken in the Change by Design workshops. In one, school children were engaged on the issues they face in their everyday environment. In another, residents told stories and dreams about their dwellings. The participants were asked open-ended questions to get them talking about their community or home and the issues they faced in its every day use. In the children’s workshop, the designers then interpreted the stories into maps of each student’s experience in the village. Adult participants used drawing and modeling techniques to communicate their ideas for the future of their community, or their plans for what an ideal dwelling would encompass.

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These techniques used together create a comprehensive engagement process.

Community members were encouraged to tell their stories, but in a guided way that gave the designer the specific and focused information they were seeking. The participants continued their narratives into the future with hands on activities, working with the designers to document and map their dreams for development in their village.

Finally, the participants were able to tell the story of the participatory design process to the entire community, thus expanding the engagement. The Change by Design process placed a lot of emphasis on the social benefit of community engagement and in this final stage of the process they were able to spread that social benefit beyond simply the workshop participants. With the focus of the study on the translation of the users inputs to actual design, the Change by Design workshop explored ways in which

Participants in Kenya Change by Design workshop draw and model their dreams for the future of their community.

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the students could create their own designs, through visual storytelling.

In 2005, as part of a large-scale public sector project in Britain called Building Schools for the Future, Design Heroine Architecture and BSF + Creative Partnerships Co-design Commission developed a participatory design tool called Story Box. Story Box was created because the team felt that a satisfactory tool for creatively engaging school children in the design process did not exist. Story Box involved presenting each participating student with a box of various small objects termed ‘artifacts.’

The children were told that the objects had been ‘discovered’ on the school grounds.

Each ‘artifact’ was labeled with false but interesting information about supposedly exotic origins. A ‘laboratory’ setting was created, and students were tasked with inventing and illustrating a narrative for the

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origins of the objects and the ‘journey’ of those objects to the school grounds. These inventive narratives were then used to create visual proposals for a more positive school identity, including elements such as mural facade panels representing the children’s stories. The ‘artifacts’ presented to the students were essentially Cultural Probes.

Each case study had significant strengths.

The Change by Design workshop in Kenya was a multi-part process which continually checked in with the community members to ensure their narratives were evolving on their own terms or were being fully understood and interpreted appropriately by the architects, where as the Story Box activity was mostly a one-step process on the part of the participants. The architects created the artifact boxes, and the architects interpreted the narratives of the students for a design proposal. On the other hand, Story Box

abstracted the design issues to a creative and evocative activity which encouraged both participants and the designer to tap into new ideas that may not typically be associated with architectural solutions, an outcome suggested by the use of Cultural Probes as well. This type of activity “encourage(s) subjective engagement, empathetic interpretation, and a pervasive sense of uncertainty as positive values for design.� The Change by Design workshop lost some of this value by focusing concretely on design issues, missing the opportunity to push the resultant ideas beyond normal expectations of both designers and participants.

Analysis of the two case studies proved that the most valuable participatory design process should combine two attributes: a probing, creative, and abstract engagement process that allows participants to tell their

own stories, and a continual involvement of the participants throughout the design, from inception to completion, that allows the participants to evaluate the architect’s proposed solutions to be sure their designs match the stories they told.

Two test cases were undertaken to put the concepts of participatory design and the Cultural Probes into practice. The first of these test case studies was termed Ice Exploration. The test subjects were a group of largely design professionals unfamiliar with the Alaskan environment. The subjects were shown a short film which introduced them to the characteristics of a typical Alaskan village. They were then given a collection of colored pieces of ice in various shapes and told to arrange the shapes on another bed of colored ice to represent various spaces. The spaces were not defined by program but were described with emotional

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qualities or actions that might take place within them, such as dancing, laughing, or respecting elders. The actions of each group of participants was filmed and later observed.

which they were responding to the prompt.

A true participatory design process should engage a community who are intimately knowledgeable about the region for which the project is being designed.

The video prompt and ice blocks were presented as Cultural Probes to the participants in the study, and many interesting observations were made as to how the subjects responded and reacted to the cues. As the groups tended to be comprised mainly of design professionals, there was a significant focus on form to define space.

A second participatory engagement experiment was undertaken, this time to test the direct application of storytelling to the process. In this case, the community participants were members of a church group who were planning a major renovation to their current facilities. The church members were all given the prompt to tell their most memorable experiences of entering a church.

The stories were recorded and aspects were drawn from them to create designs for a new entry, lobby, and welcome center for the church.

There were significant issues with the Ice Exploration study. It was exceedingly abstract, which made concrete interpretations for design very difficult. In addition, the participants were not at all familiar with the village environment for

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The Church Stories engagement exercise proved to be much more straightforward

Analysis of the aspects of the ice blocks, or Cultural Probes, which drove participant action in the Ice Exploration exercise.

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than the Ice Exploration activity, and the results obtained from the participants were easy to interpret and translate into design.

However, the factor of uncertainty that is championed in the Cultural Probes method was relatively insignificant in the Church Stories project. Although participants were narrating experiences rather than simply stating their design preferences, there was little difference in the outcome. The story prompt was likely too close to the true design problem to provide any deeper insights.

Participants in rural communities are often given the chance to provide insight at the beginning stages of a design project, but then the process is taken entirely into the hands of the design team and the community is left wondering. The end result is a project that may be based in the needs of the village as communicated in the beginning of the process, but the important ownership factor is forgotten. The participatory design process can only function well if it is continuous throughout the entire project.

The case studies researched and undertaken in practice were insightful and interesting but did not seem to be addressing the real issue. Community design charrettes are not particularly uncommon in rural Arctic communities, though they are often poorly attended. The problem, however, is in the follow through.

There are many examples of success involving a community from start to finish, and several were researched as additional case studies. This is the design-build model, not in the sense of a competitive architect/ contractor pairing, but in the sense that all involved in the project play a role in both the design and the construction.

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Exemplary models for this process were researched as case studies; of particular importance to the development of the project were Rural Studio and Studio H. Perhaps the most famous of the community design-build organizations, Rural Studio is a program run through Auburn University which pairs college education with affordable design for less fortunate communities.

Students learn the responsibilities of the architectural profession by designing for poor towns in west rural Alabama.

Studio H is another program that takes the educational model, but in this case the students are school age children and they design for their own communities. Studio H began with a high school program in North Carolina and has since transformed into a workshop for middle school students, particularly girls, in California.

These case studies helped to define the role of the architect in the community designbuild process. Based on the ideas of Cultural Probes, the architect’s role was as facilitator and interpreter. Through research on Studio H, Rural Studio, and other similar programs, the possibility was strengthened for the architect’s role to be not just a listener and interpreter, but a teacher.

Three main ideas from the research on participatory design drove the development of the Barrow Design Build curriculum. First, in order to truly engage the community, there must be continuity, a connection to the project from beginning to end. Second, the community must have ownership in the design and the building. To achieve this, the community must be actively engaged hands-on - in the construction process.

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Alone we can do so little.

Together we can do so much.

Helen Keller

MAKING CONNECTIONS The most important part of a community design-build project is the people. The people are the heart of a village, they are the ones who will use and experience the architecture that results from the design-build process. Their collective knowledge and experience within their village and on their land is what creates a successful project; without the people of the community, the architect is just another outsider without outside ideas. The more the community is engaged, the more successful and wellreceived the project will be. It is vital for the architect and design team to build connections within the village well before the design-build workshop begins, for a variety of reasons.

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First, and perhaps most important, building a network increases awareness and participation in the project, thus allowing more voices to be heard and strengthening public buy-in on the end result.

Second, since rural villages have such limited resources, it is crucial to have partners within the community who can help obtain the existing resources when necessary. On the same token, despite the small scale of the villages, logistics can be a challenge.

Where will outside staff involved in the workshop stay? How will meals be prepared and where will the supplies come from?

Some communities have more resources to deal with these issues than others, but the

most remote places may not even have a store or lodging. It is not uncommon for visitors to villages to sleep on the floor in a classroom in the school, but even that sort of accommodation requires prior planning.

In addition to logistics, local people are the best resources for getting the word out about the workshop, and those connections must be established well in advance in order to be most useful.

Finally, engaging local experts on the teaching side of the design-build workshop is important to success. The participants should learn not just from the outsiders, but from people in their own community.

A partnership in teaching will increase the collective memory of the community, and likelihood of retaining the knowledge learned and shared after the workshop will be greater.

Though establishing good connections within the community where the design-build workshop will be held is paramount, careful attention should also be paid to the selection of the design team that will come in from outside. Leaders must be flexible, engaging, and ready for an unusual experience.

The Barrow Design-Build Camp is again referenced as an example of how to establish a network outside and within the village prior to running the workshop. In this case, the networking process took place over several months, but the time needed could vary significantly. The connections made for the Barrow project are still being maintained and have assisted in obtaining resources for a construction class project led by one of the Design-Build Camp instructors. Indeed, building connections in a community is an ongoing process that does not stop when the design-build workshop is completed.

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The entire process of community designbuild can be separated into four phases: preparation, implementation, observation, and synthesis. Of these, the preparation phase is in many ways the most important to the success and longevity of the project. It is also the phase with the longest duration, as in a cyclical sense it incorporates the observation and synthesis from previous projects.

The preparation phase includes all of the research previously discussed, it includes developing a design framework or concept, incorporating lessons learned from previous projects, and most importantly, it includes establishing a connection with the community.

One of the initial steps in the preparation phase is establishing funding for the project, which in the case of the Barrow Design-

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Build was done through application for a grant through Ilisagvik College, the tribal college of Alaska’s North Slope. This had the additional effect of creating a connection with a well-established institution within the community, and contributed greatly to solving some of the logistical issues with running the workshop.

Many rural villages will not have a college to turn to for financial and logistical assistance, but often there is some sort of institution in place that has a wide influence on the community at large, and if connections with that institution are possible, they should be sought early on in the preparation process. Institutions may include the village or tribal government, the public school administration, or even a widely-connected family in the smallest villages. Some institutions, such as Ilisagvik College, or a borough government, may

PREPAR ATION establishing community connections, logistics planning

SYNT HESIS

I M P L E M E N TAT I O N

incorporating lessons learned

community design-build workshop

O B S E R VAT I O N adaptations + use by the community

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have wide influence over several villages, thus if a connection is established for one workshop, it may propagate to assisting with the success of workshops in other communities. The network can be thought of as singular to the particular workshop or community for which it is established, but it is even more productive if it is thought of as a long-term, broad network for establishing a true program of design-build across the entire rural region.

Several other institutions were engaged in preparation and implementation of the Barrow Design-Build. These included individuals and organizations both inside and outside the community and were focused on several categories of assistance: funding, logistics, land, publicity, education, and construction.

Perhaps the most important of these at

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the outset was land. Since this was not a contracted project with a pre-selected site, but a workshop using the mobile module concept to teach design and construction, it was crucial to acquire permission to build the structures and keep them on land within the village.

Ilisagvik leases land from Ukpeagvik I単upiat Corporation (UIC), and they were willing to have the structures at the college, but it is decentralized from the main town, and would therefore not be very engaging to most of the community.

The process of establishing the site to build for involved developing connections with several different entities that own the land around Barrow. UIC is the majority landowner, but the City of Barrow, the North Slope Borough, and the Bureau of Land Management own small parts as well. After

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talking with each of these entities, it was determined that the structures built by the workshop participants would become the property of the City of Barrow Recreation Department.

Another important branch of the network that was formed prior to the implementation of the workshop was education. Barrow has a small but excellent museum, another valuable institution with which to form a partnership.

After significant communication and several meetings, lessons were arranged with several curators, further connections were established, and the museum agreed to be a sponsor as well, donating their services.

The most important connections established outside the community of Barrow were with the co-instructors who collaborated on teaching design and construction skills. The number of instructor-designers hired for a

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design-build workshop will depend on the number of participants and nature of the project. For the Barrow Design-Build, three was the optimal number.

On the construction side of teaching, contractor Nick Toye was hired. Nick is a recently-licensed GC living in Anchorage, Alaska, and was brought on largely because of his enthusiasm and prior experience working with youth to construct homes in rural villages. Nick embodied several ideal characteristics for teaching construction skills.

He took a balanced approach to educating the students in tool use, emphasizing safety but trusting the students to try things for themselves. Nick had a laid back attitude that the students appreciated, yet at the same time he was constantly thinking about construction details in order to stay one step ahead. Perhaps most importantly, he was able to be flexible when things changed.

On the design side, the network spread beyond Alaska. Milly Baker, an architect from Boston, volunteered to fly across the country to assist in teaching. Milly brought extensive and broad experience in design, and offered a unique outside perspective to students who have rarely left their home village. Milly assisted in guiding the students through design exercises and was particularly insightful in offering approachable critiques on the students’ design work. Like Nick, Milly was flexible and willing to try anything.

Garnering supplemental funding and donated supplies was critical to keeping the designs flexible. The on-site visit to Barrow assisted in establishing the help of Umiaq, a branch of the Native Corporation that runs logistics campaigns for scientists in the Barrow area. Umiaq provided access to supplies and resources left over from various scientific endeavors. Staff at Umiaq also

had personal ties to the City Mayor, so that connection was strengthened and further material was able to be procured.

Establishing connection with all of these entities was not an easy task. Remote rural villages can be insular and move at a different pace than urban life. Building a network is not as simple as sending a few emails or making some phone calls; the most common response is no response at all. However, persistence and commitment pay off in this realm. In the case of the Barrow Design-Build, several days were spent in Barrow, setting up meetings and presenting the project in person to as many organizations as possible. It often took more than one meeting to forge any sort of relationship, but the time on site proved to be invaluable, developing a personal connection and demonstrating commitment to the community.

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MyTell ourgrandchild, education is the ladder. people to take it.

Hastinn ch’il Haajiin, the Great Chief

CURRICULUM Education is the key to success. If people in rural villages learn to build for themselves, with a greater understanding of how to design for the nuances of their environment, then the built environment will begin to support their lifestyle more appropriately and start to make a difference.

As the architect takes on the role of educator in teaching design-build in rural communities, curriculum must be developed. Though the short-term goal of a particular design-build workshop may be a commissioned building, the long-term goal is for the participants to gain knowledge of design and construction that can be carried forward to more projects within their community.

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The curriculum developed may be straightforward and focused on basic skills, with the majority of the learning resulting from the hands-on experience of the participants designing and building for themselves. How involved the curriculum will be depends on the project, the community, the architect/ educators involved, and the participants in the program.

Regardless of the complexity of the curriculum, there are several important aspects to the design-build education that need to be addressed in any workshop. The core tenets of teaching design-build will not only apply to the project at hand, but are designed to teach participants to apply the

concepts to future projects. These can be divided into the following categories: 1. Critical analysis of context.

2. Challenging existing paradigms.

3. Creative design thinking.

4. Technical knowledge.

These categories are geared toward helping community participants learn to view their own context from a different perspective, and

empowering them to make the changes they see necessary. Their collective knowledge and ingrained traditions make them the ideal candidates for addressing issues in the built environment in rural communities, but they generally lack the tools to do so.

To be taught to analyze their environment critically, to understand which elements to utilize and how, to understand how to apply the resources available creatively, and to have the physical knowledge of how to build those designs will allow community members to challenge paradigms that are disliked but rarely questioned.

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Teaching these skills to community members is no small task. However, there is an opportunity to plant a seed, nourish it with continued involvement, and begin the process of changing the inadequate built environment of the villages from the inside.

Simplifying the goals into achievable concepts for a two-week design-build course for high school students, a curriculum was developed. The idea behind this curriculum was to empower the young students to understand design and realize its accessibility to themselves and their communities. The intent was for students to not only learn how to wield construction tools, but to design structures for themselves based on their own observations of their environment. The following pages describe the curriculum used to coach the students through a successful design process and the realization of their designs in built forms.

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The graphic opposite illustrates an overview of the curriculum developed for the Barrow Design-Build. The top two lines are the design portion of the workshop, while the bottom two are the build portion. In reality, the two overlapped considerably, with initial tools and safety education beginning early on, and design continuing throughout.

Essentially, the design portion of the curriculum was divided into an analysis and information gathering phase, an individual design phase, and a collaborative design phase, thus creating an iterative process.

Throughout the construction phase, a democratic decision-making process was engaged to evaluate and resolve challenges that arose.

The first goal was to introduce the concept of design and get the students comfortable drawing and designing.

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Their first tasks included describing themselves and their prior experiences with design and construction, then sketching each other as an icebreaker using blind, continuous sketching techniques.

These tasks were followed with a discussion on the meaning of design. Students and instructors each took off a shoe, everyone chose the “best� shoe to illustrate and presented on why it was the best. The discussion that followed was about the subjectivity of design as well as the need to design differently for different purposes, environments, etc.

The students were then given their first designbuild challenge, a task that was meant to encourage creative thinking from day one. Called the Blitz Build Challenge, the concept was adapted from Emily Pilloton’s Studio H lesson plans.

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The students were divided into three groups and each was given a collection of building materials - salvaged and found items such as shipping pallets, 2x2s, rebar rods, tarp, and a length of rope. No fasteners were allowed and the teams had about an hour and a half to work together to design and construct a structure that had a defined purpose.

The results of the activity were fairly remarkable. A shy group of students who had no interest or ideas for what to build began the challenge, and an hour and a half later, the triumphant groups had created a boat, a fish drying rack with a cutting table, and a shelter for dining in. The process exercised their power for design and creativity.

One of the most important tasks beginning the design curriculum was site analysis. As a group the students and instructors visited

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the two sites where the structures were to be situated: the city playgrounds in Barrow and Browerville. Once there, they were tasked with mapping the sites in their sketchbooks and recording observations. Some ideas for observations were suggested, and the students were encouraged to think of their own.

As a further form of site analysis, much input was sought from the Barrow community at large. Several hours were spent at the local heritage museum, learning the traditional ways of living of the Inupiat people. A trip was taken to Pigniq, the cabin village north of Barrow, accompanied by an elder who grew up in the village and happily shared his stories with the students. Students were instructed to sketch the cabins and record their observations and takeaways from the style of construction. Another elder visited the class to discuss skin boat making techniques,

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an ancient tradition still widely used today for whaling across the Arctic coast.

The hands-on and experiential learning was accompanied by presentations by the instructors on traditional architecture in the Arctic, contemporary architectural ideas for the Arctic, sustainable design principles, pavilion architecture, and building from found materials. Discussions were led to tap into the student’s own experiences with architecture, both historic and contemporary, since each of them is from a village that has ancient historic roots yet a largely contemporary Southern built environment.

With a background and new understanding of the environment around them, the students each worked to develop designs for the pavilions. Their work and the process for synthesizing it into two pavilions is featured in the section on design.

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In this section Developing a framework Concept: small, mobile, adaptable Modules as teaching tool Concept evolution Student designs

User groups do not have the knowledge to begin design from a vacuum, the architect must develop a conceptual framework based on their research to guide the community through the process. A simple, elegant concept is ideal; a basis of design that is open to community input, yet developed enough to ensure a measure of success.

Ifthe there is any power in design, that is power of synthesis. the more complex thesimplicity. problem, the greater the need for

Alejandro Aravena, Elemental

FRAMEWORK While it is necessary for the architect involved in community design-build to take on the role of an educator, the designer is still a designer. The architect cannot show up empty-handed in terms of design or the community will not know where to begin.

The community needs a framework around which to develop their ideas. The architect is tasked with developing this framework prior to the design-build workshop. The extent to which it is developed will depend on the type of workshop and project undertaken, the participants’ skills, and the amount of information provided to the architect beforehand.

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What exactly is meant by framework?

The idea is to create a guide for the community to work within, to remove some of the burden of the less-nuanced design decisions, which will be better dictated by an experienced designer. For example, the architect might research various construction types along with the material resources and climate of the rural village and develop a framework from that information. Perhaps there is a particular type of construction best suited to the site, program, and available materials, perhaps there is a size or form or arrangement of space that is best suited the the project program. Asking questions and determining decsions that can be made prior to the workshop will aid in success and

keep a community group from floundering in the intial design stages. In addition, the framework will provide some guidance to necessary tools, materials, and time to dedicate to the project. The framework may be structural, material, or environmental in nature.

Dictating the challenge of design from an entirely blank slate to inexperienced community members brings a lot of challenges, and a lot of questions. It is the architect’s role to provide guidance in the beginning of the process. It is also the architect’s responsibility to assess what level of framework should be provided.

Large and complex projects may require participatory input sessions in order to establish the parameters of the framework from community ideas but a streamlined decision making process.

Establishing the framework is not an opportunity for the architect to express their creative exploration. The goal of creating this basic platform from which the community begins the design-build process is for the architect to contribute their knowledge and skill to eliminate confusion and excessive debate at the beginning of a project. It is also not recommended to develop the framework in isolation from the community in which the project takes place. In development of the design-build framework, the previously established network of entities and organizations within the community are invaluable.

The concept for the framework developed for the Barrow Design-Build project is presented here as an example. Though created for Barrow, it was conceived as a framework for teaching design-build in rural Alaskan villages in general.

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DESIGN CONCEPT The framework developed for participatory design-build in rural Alaskan communities is a small, mobile unit that can be adapted for various public programs and used to teach design concepts and construction techniques.

This framework, the Teaching Pods concept, is developed to support a curriculum which teaches community members to improve their built environment through the lenses discussed previously: 1. Critical analysis of context.

2. Challenge of existing paradigms.

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3. Creative design thinking.

4. Technical knowledge.

The Teaching Pods concept presents an adaptable, versatile structure that can easily be modified in the design concept stage, throughout construction, and after completion by the community. The structures are built from simple, common materials that are readily available in rural communities, while at the same time creating a framework for creative use of alternative found materials.

The small modules eliminate the construction waste that is typical of large, outside-design projects in rural communities, and utilize scraps that would otherwise rot away.

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The simple concept allows for versatility of program; the modules can be everything from public gathering spaces, to storage units, to personal hunting shelters. The program can be modified over time, just as the Inupiaq traditionally adapted their structures to varying use throughout the year.

The module framework is conceived as a simple platform on skis, so as to be easily transported in winter months. The size of

the modules was carefully optimized based on several factors: towability, usability, and efficiency of material use. The width and lenth were defined to ensure interior space once walls are erected is usable for multiple people in various seated and standing configuratons. Estimations of weight based on overall dimensions were factored in to ensure towability by a standard highpowered snowmachine, which are very common in the Arctic. Height was left as a

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base structure form + enclosure detail FRAMEWORK

ADAPTATION 170

factor determined by community designs, but guidelines were established so as to create a stable structure even when in motion.

The size was also optimized to maximize material use, so full sheets of plywood could be used without the need for small cuts.

The base design for the modules was established completely prior to the Barrow Design-Build workshop, and parts of the base were prefabricated and shipped to Barrow. The sled base was constructed by the students, therefore serving as a teaching tool for the constrution method, allowing students to become comfortable with their abilities before making design decisions for the overall structure.

The Teaching Pods framework can essentially be divided into four phases. The first, the base, is as previously described: a fully developed design that is essentially a

kid of parts ready for assembly. This teaches community members about construction and familiarizes them with the process, preparing them for design challenges ahead.

The second phase is structure. This is likely developed by the community with significant guidance from the architect. This is when program begins to dictate the design, as well as available materials. In the case of the Barrow Design-Build, this was dictated by the found timbers which formed the structural column system.

The first two phases comprise the framework aspects of the community-design build project. These are the pieces that will likely not change once constructed.

What follows can be considered part of the adaptation aspects of the Teaching Pods framework. The next phase is form and

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enclosure, and this is when the community begins to have the most input on the design.

Program drives the enclosure design, and the architect should be prepared to educate the community on a variety of options. If an insulated enclosure is necessary for the program, this provides an opportunity to teach community members how to properly detail a building envelope for their particular environmental conditions.

The development of the module form with the community provides an opportunity to teach critical analysis of the surrounding environment and ways question the existing paradigms of local design. The development of the form should be tied directly to the site analysis, which incorporates much more than just physical site. As shown with the Barrow project, this is an opportunity to explore the history and culture of the people in the village, along with their surroundings,

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and to critcally assess what forms best represent and support those aspects of the community. Though the Teaching Pod form is small and somewhat limited in the expression of this critical assessment and design, the results can be extrapolated to larger or more complex projects. An example of a curriculum that encourages this process will be discussed later via the mobileShop concept. Form development with community participants allows the module to take on a nuanced characteristic that is particular to the culture, history, and environment of the village it serves.

The final stage of development of the Teaching Pods during the community design-build process is the detail phase.

This is finishing work, furnishings, ornament, completing the module for its programatic purpose. In the Barrow example, this phase included constructing seating for gathering

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and observation at the playground, as well as the incorporation of details such as baleen trim around the roof and interior.

Through development of these adaptable aspects of the architecture, community members are taught to analyze their surroundings, draw from their own culture and traditional past, and to question the status quo of design. The lessons learned and applied to the construction of the Teaching Pods can be extrapolated to more complex issues, and the architect should lead the participants in beginning to understand how to apply their newfound knowledge.

In addition to the aforementioned concepts, the Teaching Pods provide a concrete method for teaching the technical aspects of good design for the Arctic. Though this facet is not discussed as in depth here, it is a crucial component. The architect must be

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very competent in design for the environment of the community in which they are working.

Extensive research on building methods should be completed prior to running the design-build workshop, and experts should be consulted or involved in the process. In addition to serving as a platform for teahcing the most current best design practices, the Teaching Pods can provide essentially a small scale test module for new building science ideas. New materials or assemblies can be tested for their effectiveness in an extreme environment The Teaching Pods represent an architectural solution for the rural Arctic that is rooted in the traditions of a historically nomadic people who used the resources were available to them. Though intended to teach, their adaptable nature is optimal to serve the ever-changing communities for whom they were developed.

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[We need a] wider understanding of an environment that unpredictably oscillates between freeze and thaw, dark and light, accessible and inaccessible, technology and tradition.

Lola Sheppard, Lateral Office

CONCEPT EVOLUTION The small, mobile, adaptable concept evolved from the initial notion that architecture for the rural Arctic should be able to change with the seasons and the use. The concept was based on research about the traditional nomadic patterns of the Yup’ik people, as well as personal experience and observation of the way people in villages tend to adapt buildings to their uses.

The initial design developed was a sketch problem focusing on a particular example of this tendency toward adaptation; in this case, the existing building typology was the village school, which almost always serves as much more: a community center, lodging, a kitchen, and a gym. The sketch problem

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pulled the community center function away from the school and created a space for a potlatch, traditional dance, or other public gathering.

The design idea developed a place for community events that could be taken down and put up as needed, or changed with the seasons. It was designed to serve as an enclosed, insulated structure in the winter, yet open up to the air in the summer.

This concept was the first iteration of the concept of a framework for community construction. The design created the bones of a structure and a platform that would be permanent, while the cladding, insulation,

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Initial concept of adaptable community gathering space with structural framework and snow walls.

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and interior partitions could be erected and changed by the community as needed. This also allowed the possibility for using naturallyfound and traditional materials such as sod and snow for constructing and insulating walls. The previous diagram indicates a potential phasing for the construction and adaptation of the structure.

Although intended to be adaptable, the initial concept was still very nuanced and specific to the particular program. In addition, it was relatively undefined and not rooted in the materiality typical of contemporary rural Arctic architecture. There was a need to develop a more standardized design that could be adapted for more programs and uses in more varied village locations.

After more research and exploration, it was determined that the projects undertaken to explore the thesis questions would be

located in Arctic Alaska, thus leading to study of specific communities in that area.

Another sketch problem was undertaken to develop an adaptable community structure for communities such as Barrow.

In this concept, the focus remained on adaptability, but rather than a permanent, stationary framework that could be modified and changed seasonally by the community, the focus was on an entire structure that could be easily built by community labor and adapt to various activities and seasonality.

The concept had also evolved to incorporate the strong need of rural Alaskan populations to connect to the outdoor environment.

Studies from the exterior social spaces of the Pigniq camp discussed in an earlier chapter had led to the conclusion that the adaptable architecture in Barrow should be able to be a sheltering enclosure as well as open to create an outdoor room.

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, e d i l s o t d e n g i s e d o t s Thheisncsetrutchpteuernec. urCwveaodncbeaptsuepasrl,aycatitnchdael yidea hwinagse inoteirnegstintog, obbtuatin. lA fosrledslidbiangse a cdhoaelsenngotis,wodruke atso wthee surface are thoan n thsek snow.

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The concept utilized ribs routed from plywood, a common material in rural Alaska. The individual pieces could be easily assembled to create a structure. The rib designs were inspired by the curved whale bones which are typically found in a whaling community, as well as the curved ribs of the umiaqs, or hunting boats.

The pieces interlocked to create a stable structure that could conceivably be towed or pushed by large groups of people or a snowmachine.

The site for this structure was envisioned to be the beach or other public area, where community members could gather for festivals, sports events, and picnics. The design concept was essentially two halves of a shell which could interlock together to form a sheltered zone in the winter, or pull apart to create an open, outdoor room in the summer.

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At this stage in design development, the importance of materiality was further explored. In rural communities, there is a necessity to use materials that are either readily available on site, or are compact, lightweight and easy to ship from an urban location. In the early concept explorations, various material ideas were considered, from the snow walls mentioned previously, to stretched skins, or similar flexible materials such as canvas. The skin or canvas idea has several ideal attributes; it connects to the historic building methods of the Inupiat people, it is lightweight, easily transported, can be removed or installed over a frame depending on the season, and it provides transparency, a crucial aspect in a place that gets very little light in the winter months.

The study model opposite is an example of material testing that was done at this stage of the concept development process. The

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Transformation of adaptable structure from enclosed configuration to open configuration.

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model explored the layering potential of translucent materials, noting the possibility of including insulation in between the ribs for a semi-translucent but winterized wall.

As the concept was developed, the idea that it might serve as a beacon of light in the dark winter months was strengthened. This led to increasing explorations on the idea of mobility. It was considered that the small, mobile structures might be part of a network along the coast or between the villages; a string of shelters that acted as beacons for travelers and hunters along the trail. Their adaptability would allow for the variations of seasonal use, and their mobility would allow for shifts over time in the paths traveled or the necessary locations for shelter. The structures could be publicly owned, or they could also support a system of personal ownership, allowing owners to move them to their hunting camps as needed.

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There were two aspects of program that were particularly important to study in the initial design development. The first was that the structure should support the cultural and traditional life of the Inupiat people in ways that the current built environment does not.

Various festivals were studied, as well as hunting traditions, and traditional dances.

Some traditions are better supported by the existing infrastructure than others. In Northern Inupiat communities in particular, whaling is of the utmost importance to the community; it provides the sustenance and livelihoods for much of the village. Many people in Barrow had communicated the lack of a shelter for community members at the sites where whales are brought in and butchered on the beach.

This second important aspect to the program was that the structure needed to be designed as a public space. Public and

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private architecture is suffering in Alaska’s rural communities, and almost none of it is sustainable or supportive of the lifestyles of the people who live there. However, some work is being done to improve housing, and the people are more autonomous in constructing their own homes. Public architecture, however, is lacking. Community gatherings are very important in Inupiat communities, but aside from the school, which the people have adapted to using for public events, there is no place for residents to gather. In particular, there is no gathering place that can be connected to the cultural traditions of the Inupiat people.

The ribbed, hinged structure design provided a monument of sorts, a place for the community to gather while remaining connected to the outdoor world. The adaptability of the structure allowed it to function for large or small groups.

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Although the hinged, ribbed structure concept is a nuanced and beautiful representation of important cultural aspects for the Inupiat people, it has several issues.

First, efficient production of the interlocking ribs would require computer-numericcontrolled (CNC) routing equipment that is not available in the rural Arctic. The possibility exists to prefabricate the ribs and ship them to the village, but this would tend to support the urban manufacturing plant more than the village, and would essentially put community members in the position of simply assembling a kit of parts. It fails to address the issue of imported design based on unfamiliarity with conditions and life in the village. Through this analysis, it became important that the structure be able to be adapted and designed by the community.

The construction techniques used for the

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ribbed structure design differ greatly from what people in rural villages are accustomed to. Although there is a learning curve in any new construction style, this had the potential to be too much of a leap, and not applicable enough to a wide range of projects. It was necessary to explore what could be done with more standard detailing.

Finally, the structures were not as adaptable and practical as was the intention. Towing a flat-bottomed structure across the snow is much harder than one on skis, due to the increased surface area of the sled.

In addition, the hinged construction was impractical and structurally unstable without significant re-analysis.

The next iteration of the design kept the two-part concept, this time creating two modules which slide together or apart for a small enclosed space or a larger open one.

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The program was becoming more defined at this stage in the process, as contact had been made with the village of Barrow and community members were giving input on their needs. However, there were still several program possibilities.

The first was as previously discussed: a shelter for the area where the whales are brought in and butchered at harvest time (illustrated opposite). It would serve as a space for elders and young children to warm up and get out of the wind, as well as a staging area for the feast that is always prepared while the butchers are working. The second program possibility was for a small shelter at the cemetery for family members who need to dig graves during the winter. Warm up huts at the town playgrounds rounded out the program possibilities.

With so many diverse program options, it

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became even more clear how important adaptability was for the design. There are a multitude of uses for small community shelters in rural Arctic communities, but some of them are very temporal uses; for example, once the whaling season is over, there is no need to go back to the whale landing site until the following year. This provided a strong argument for the mobility of the structure.

Aesthetically, this iteration of the concept countered the direction of the sinuous, organic, ribbed structure with a rectilinear form. This version was very similar in form to the Pigniq cabins or other houses that dot the Arctic landscape. It utilized entirely contemporary materials, though only those that were presumed to be easily-obtainable in remote villages. Most of the materials are indeed common in rural Alaska, but a few proved to be difficult to obtain after some research. Instead of canvas, the design

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used translucent corrugated polycarbonate panels typical of greenhouse construction in warmer climates. Further research indicated this material is expensive to ship and not commonly found in the villages. In addition, the concept included sliding mechanisms and locks to seal the separate modules together. Although potentially feasible with some large hardware and pulleys, this again seemed an approach that was too nuanced and would likely end up unused by community members. In addition, it seemed unlikely to be a design feature that would be applicable to a wide range of projects, and it was becoming more clear by this stage in the design development that the structures should not only serve the immediate needs of the community, but also teach them strategies for future development.

With several iterations of the mobile community structure developed, an

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assessment was made of their positive characteristics as well as desirable characteristics that had yet to be achieved.

The design rules sketched on the opposite page were established to guide the decision making of further iterations.

Skis for mobility had been established as a way to connect to the lifestyle of the indigenous people and to provide more flexibility for a community structure that would likely be used in multiple locations throughout the year. The mobility concept was inspired in part by the Wanigans of mid-century military exploration in the Arctic Alaskan regions, as well as the further adaptations of the Wanigan features in homes and structures around modern-day Barrow.

A combination of a solid and permanent framework with changeable, adaptable

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components was also desirable. Something entirely permanent is inflexible and unlikely to be useful, but something too movable or changeable makes a structure less suitable for heavy use or a harsh environment. In addition, community members cannot be expected to do too much to maintain and reconstruct the shelters for each use.

The possibility of being able to combine several structures together for a larger, protected space was addressed, as was the need to have both indoor and sheltered outdoor space. The exterior zones would allow activities such as butchering or snowmachine repair to take place outside.

Views to the landscape were also valuable to let the occupants maintain their constant connection with the land.

The design rules also established that the

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structures must have human proportions, be easy to construct with simple tools, have adjustable, changeable connections, and be created from simple, available materials.

The final concepts created prior to undertaking the design-build workshop in Barrow incorporated these design rules and inspriation from vernacular structures studied previously into three different modules. Exploring the adaptability of the base sled framework discussed previously, the three modules were developed as an observation space, a gathering space, and a working space. Each module could serve individually or they could be combined together in multiples to create a larger space with different purposes. The modules were designed to be able to utilize simple found materials and to be easily modified by community members. The following pages show the details of each module.

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Lessons from historic and contemporary vernacular structures were incorporated into the module designs, with aspects borrowed from the snow fence, umiaq, Wanigan, Pigniq houses, and traditional sleds.

One such attribute that was explored for the gathering module arose from a study of typical snow fence desin. As discussed previously in site analysis, the snow fence is typically used to control drifting of snow around settlements and roadways. The snow fence structure was used to develop decorative screening that could serve to provide shelter and shade, as well as collect and divert snow to protect the modules.

The curved shape of the snow fence wall (illustrated on the opposite page) was also inspired by the form and construction of the umiaq. The snow fence wall is just one example of the nuanced detail elements incorporated into the base module design.

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The working, gathering, and observation modules, with community members adapting them to their own tastes and uses.

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A possible configuration for gathering modules arranged in a wind break formation on Barrow’s winter beach.

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What every teacher is doing is teaching someone how to love something.

Jenny Browne, poet

STUDENT DESIGNS The students engaged in the Barrow DesignBuild workshop each developed their own design for a playground pavilion, using sketches, physical models, and digital modeling to communicate their ideas.

Some of the students built models that looked very similar to the architecture they see around them every day. Boxy, stickframed structures with pitched roofs were represented particularly in those who had had previous experience building with their families or elsewhere in their home village. Many others created designs that clearly showed the influence of the site and community surroundings investigations previously undertaken. The curves of whale bones and umiaqs were visible in some

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models, many others created open designs suited to the playground environment and indicating awareness of the need to allow snow to blow through the structure. Unique details were displayed in many of the students’ work.

One of the most challenging aspects of the design-build workshop was the process of taking fourteen individual ideas and merging them into two designs. Every participant needed to have a voice. First a summary of design ideas was created, then a democratic process was used to establish two general concepts. Throughout the construction of the pavilions, the same process was used to make design decisions.

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Kirsten loved geometry and her design concept was driven by the structural frames of the above ground utilidors we saw as we walked around Barrow and NARL - ladders of X-bracing supporting extruded half-domed tunnels

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lMMiayrinaandfiI gspurene tDousourtmeihongwtimthetoe hemocolpdensintlgruction coprmpocouesnds, Mcurvil eys.staermndindsMaarindna Mwerarienathecut cuthemrveda ril bwitmah the jig saw.

Marina’s concept borrowed from curves she saw in the site and context: whale bones, umiaq frames, Quonset Huts, and various playground structures. Her concept was a ribbed structure that locked horizontals and verticals together.

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Billy’s concept included a small sheltered area and a large open space for gathering outside.

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Mike’s concept bore some resemblance to the Quonset Hut structures all around Barrow, but his design was adapted to allow light and snow to pass through the lower half of the structure.

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Branham’s design (opposite page) and April’s bore some similar characteristics; each focused on the structure and designed a shed roof. Their designs were based more on what they were familiar with, but they both gave consideration to snow accumulation on the roof and drift formation.

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t os m e h t of e on s a w e h t t p Mfaivsohare’ds deconsispcgeensculawtiethinthathte threis sthartiofdngsofomermthing gtoroudop. wIith ofth,e bfaoxmyiliashr,apceom) fowitehalislnigghtto the (mpoditcifihed croatiporonsgrathamt. were app particular

Joe’s concept (opposite page) was largely based on typical house design and did not give much consideration to the site, whereas Misha’s (this page) gave much thought to the way parents and children might interact with the structure at the playground, offering a sheltered zone and a more open zone.

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Group brainstorming after the student design work was completed led to a list of attributes and the beginning developments of a concept that could be modified to incorporate all the ideas into two different structures.

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The two final designs were created by combining the student ideas through brainstorming and voting, as well as decisions made by the instructors based on the material and time limitations.

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The designs continued to evolve through the construction process. The curved ribs originally went with the circle panels, but the group voted at some point to separate the two and create both a traditional and contemporary aesthetic.

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All but finished pavilions ready for the final touches before being taken to the playgrounds.

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In this section Construction process: building in Barrow Observation and adaptation Toolkit for success

In addition to a documentation of the construction process, an illustrated guide for the attributes and tools necessary for success is presented here. An important aspect of the design-build process is observation of use and adaptation once the community takes ownership of the building.

Building is a collective action.

Hannes Meyer, Bauhaus director

Barrow Design-Build students ready to build.

The construction process is presented through the following pages.

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The proud team poses in Sadie, one of the finished pavilions.

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Ifthe there is any power in design, that is power of synthesis. the more complex thesimplicity. problem, the greater the need for

Alejandro Aravena, Elemental

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ADAPTATION Community design-build does not end when the architect goes home. The most important aspect of the process is what the community makes of it when the architect is no longer there. Is the project welcomed and accepted by the community, is it put to good use? Or does it end up abandoned, destroyed, decayed from lack of use? Is the structure used the way it was expected to be or do community members adapt it to different needs? Finally, were the lessons useful for other projects, or are they entirely forgotten after the workshop ends?

It can be difficult to follow up with a community from afar, but significant effort should be made to observe how the

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community responds to the information received, the skills learned, and the structure that was built.

In the case of the Barrow Design-Build, upon return to Barrow, it was discovered that one of the structures, A.C. had been moved from its original location at the Browerville playground to the community softball fields. This was an interesting and exciting revelation; it meant the community reassessed their needs and saw a better use for the pavilion, and it also meant the mobility of the structure was practical and important.

It was anticipated that the structures would

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Inspecting the damage on A.C. Aside from the slashed canvas, the structure was in nearperfect condition.

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have some damage. Many community members had warned that the youth of Barrow, as with many villages, tend to destroy property. It was important that the community feel enough ownership in the structures to want to protect them.

Observation proved there was minor damage to the pavilions. The canvas covering on A.C. had been cut twice. On Sadie, the circular windows without plastic trim were roughly cut larger than their

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original sizes. A section of plywood had also been removed from one side of Sadie.

Aside from these minor damages, however, the structures were in great condition.

Another interesting observation was that the orientation of Sadie was correct for snow drift conditions. Spin drifts of wind carrying snow spiral over and around the structure, depositing the particles on the leeward side. Scour zones were created on the sides perpendicular to the wind direction,

scour zone

scour zone snow drift

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keeping the entrance area clear. The interior was clear as well, indicating that the design worked well. A.C. was mostly clear of snow inside, but drifted considerably around the entrance. This indicated that when the city relocated the structure it was not oriented with the wind direction in mind. However, the structure gets little to no use at the softball field during the winter, so it is likely not an issue.

One final exciting follow-up to the Barrow Design-Build workshop came in the form of an adaptation. Ilisagvik College arranged for one of the instructors from the workshop to teach a month-long construction class in their Construction Trades program during the semester. To teach the techniques required by the curriculum, he decided to use the Teaching Pod concept, modifying it to incorporate all of the required lessons.

He adapted the sled base to include an

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insulated floor, and framed full walls to create a completely enclosed structure. The lessons included roof framing and installation of doors and windows, so the Teaching Pod was developed to incorporate a gabled roof, a full-size door, and two small windows.

It was fantastic to observe the modifications to the concept by others, further strengthening the idea that the concept is easily adaptable and useful to the Arctic community, and can continue to be used as a teaching tool.

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Manual labour encourages an architecture ofpurpose. necessity, where everything serves a

TYIN Tegnestue Architects

TOOLKIT FOR SUCCESS Running a design-build workshop in a rural village requires a lot of forethought and planning, and many of the required supplies and tools may need to be transported to the site from an urban area. Once in the rural community, there is no hardware or general store to pick up whatever items may have been forgotten.

The most important things to bring are flexibility and creativity. Forgotten items should not stop the show, the team must be ready to be able to work with whatever materials and means are available.

However, certain tools are all but essential, and all effort should be made to ensure they

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are on site. The following pages illustrate the most necessary items for running a designbuild project in a rural village. This Toolkit For Success concept is borrowed from TYIN Tegnestue’s Architect’s Toolbox, with modifications based on experience running the Barrow Design-Build.

Some of these items can be found already within the village, and some must be brought from afar. Some come inherent to the people involved, and care should be taken to be sure the team of designers (educators) embody the qualities needed for success.

Make sure the team embraces creative thinking and embodies a diverse set of skills.

Demonstrating that everyone can contribute and be creative will lead the community members to feel the same.

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Flexibility is paramount. Things WILL change, the unexpected WILL happen. A calm demeanor and ability to go with the flow is of the utmost importance. Unexpected challenges can bring creative solutions!

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A white board is a great tool for working out design issues as a team. Dry erase allows for and ideas to evolve freely. Make sure everyone can contribute!

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Music is a great motivator. Make sure the playlist is democratically chosen...sometimes one person’s motivational tunes can discourage another. Switch it up!

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Running water isn’t always available in the villages, so make sure there is some way to wash out paintbrushes and hands each day.

Design-build is messy work!

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Reference books - most rural villages don’t have a design library, and the internet can be overwhelming. Bring books that are relevant and full of pictures.

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Document everything! Photos let others follow the rural progress online, and will be useful later for reflection and improvement.

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Computer. Important tool for precision in the later design stages, for visualization, and for keeping up with the outside world. Share the work.

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Resourcefulness and a keen eye - what goes in to the villages never comes out, and that means there are supplies everywhere that can be used creatively in the project

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Basic tool-belt and tools: hammer, tape, square, chisel, drill, impact driver, saw, etc. It is important to encourage students to wear their belts so they are prepared to contribute.

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Bolted connections create a much more adaptable and versatile architecture; pieces can be removed and changed easily. Make sure to have a plentiful variety of sizes and lengths.

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First aid kit. It may be more likely to be needed on the basketball court than the construction site, but it is still a necessary precaution.

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Have heart.... and don’t forget to have fun!

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In this section Future applications Conclusions

Teaching design-build is a method. It is a process to derive a answer, or in fact many different versions of the answer, but it in itself is not a design solution. It is important to consider the forms and nuances of specific workshops and projects in the broader spectrum of design. The concept of small, mobile, and adaptable architecture merits further investigation; the framework for teaching design-build in the rural Arctic has wider implications for the future of the north.

Theenergysecretnot ofonchange is to focus all your fighting the old, but on building the new.

Dan Millman, Way of the Peaceful Warrior

FUTURE APPLICATIONS The Arctic world is changing at a frighteningly rapid pace. Western influences on the indigenous people are only a fraction of the changes. The cold world of the Arctic is warming, weather patterns are shifting, the ocean is rising, and some villages are suffering the ultimate consequence as they literally fall into the sea. The sea ice is disappearing, and taking along with it the daily patterns not just of the humans who have lived in its presence for thousands of years, but those of other species as well. Images circulate the news of polar bears trapped on small islands of ice, adrift in the sea. The people of the Arctic are adrift as well, still struggling to adapt to century-old changes while their world continues to shift at a pace

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too rapid to understand. Adaptability is key to the survival of all inhabitants of the Arctic.

The Teaching Pods are a valuable resource for teaching design build in rural communities. The simple structures have more to offer than simply a test module for construction techniques, however. As a concept for architecture in the Arctic, it challenges existing Western-dictated design patterns, stagnant and unchanging as the world around them shifts. The mobile, modifiable design proposes a solution that hearkens back to the not-so-distant past when the indigenous people of the Arctic brought their architecture with them as they roamed the vast land that is their true abode.

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It is a concept that returns the people to that connection with the land. Rather than boxing indoor space and keeping the environment out, it is an architecture that by nature takes its occupants out into the land.

It is an architecture that journeys with the people, both across space and through its adaptability.

As a teaching tool, the small, mobile, adaptable units are well developed, but they have much more potential to be reached.

The concept has the possibility of expanding to encompass a broad array of architecture in the north, to radically shift the way people in the Arctic build and interact with their built environment. Imagining a return to the more transient, nomadic north of the past is revolutionary indeed, but radical times require radical measures.

The

idea

of

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Arctic

architecture that moves and adapts with the people and landscape it serves is still in its infancy. It deserves further investigation. The studies presented here only begin to imagine the possibilities for this architectural system.

The concept developed a series of modules that could come together to serve a larger program as the sum of small parts.

The modules could exist alone or in any combination of multiples, changing with the needs of their users.

The modules developed did not include power, water, and other such utilities. These would need to be provided from an external source. Central infrastructure buildings could be constructed in various locations around each community, where the modules could connect and be supported, or perhaps charged for a journey to a hunting camp or other site.

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The central infrastructure concept illustrated with physical models. Various configurations of modules could connect to the infrastructure building.

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One concept for broader application of the Teaching Pods was developed in detail. Named mobileShop, this concept envisioned an enhanced design-build curriculum offered in villages across the state, supported by a mobile infrastructure. Since most of the villages do not have the support spaces to efficiently engage the design-build education, the modules would serve to bring the infrastructure to the villages.

Three modules were developed using the framework from the Barrow Design-Build workshop. One module would serve as a classroom, containing all the supplies needed for the studio portions of the designbuild curriculum. The space could be used as a small classroom, or the supplies could be unpacked to a larger support space. The second module would be the shop module, containing all of the tools necessary for the job, as well as workbenches and bins for

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hardware storage. The final module would bring the water utility to the job or classroom site. Since many villages do not have a robust public water system, the water module is equipped with an insulated tank that can be filled on delivery or via rainwater collection in summer months.

When implemented, the mobileShop modules would arrive to a site, either transported fully-built over the land or shipped in as a kit of parts. The modules would be installed and unpacked at the site of the design-build workshops. This might be a school or existing support building, or it might be an empty construction site. The curriculum would then incorporate lessons learned from the design and construction of the modules themselves, extrapolated to projects determined by the community. The example project displayed here imagines the community constructing a large pavilion.

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o t n i e n i h c a m n. t w o e n c s a j d y a b r d o e w e o t t i s e l t o b c o e h j n c o s r a c p Mpoosdituiolens artt abuipldainrgti,culsaurcshplaays athepovtiel antgiaecltiosnequoefncae aThesupfoploowailngof pathgeesmoddiuletys. and constru opfavailironiv by the communi

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CONCLUSIONS I began this thesis process with a desire to help rural Alaskan communities. I had the notion that a built environment that bears no representation for the culture of the people it supports is a contributing factor to the social problems that plague those people. I also thought that through the participatory design process, a community center concept could be developed that would unify the villages and begin to solve those social problems.

Though I still believe the first notion is correct at least in part, the second was naive.

Architecture alone does not solve social problems, particularly not in the form of a single design concept for a very specific project. My notion was also embarrassingly

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hubristic; a community center does not bring a community together, little more than a house becomes a home without the people who make it so.

There is no one solution for the Arctic, but the lack of any veritable solution for the contemporary north as yet is part of the argument for involving the people of the Arctic as much as possible in the search for that design potential.

My thesis put significant effort into establishing the role the communities should play in the design process. One of my biggest challenges throughout the thesis process was to define the role of the architect. Where

does the line get drawn for decisions made by the architect versus those that are left to the community? I consistently erred on the side of neutrality. I took the position that the architect should serve as a teacher and a guide, but should not let his or her design sensibilities affect the judgment of those who know better, the end users.

However, both the architect and the community have important roles to bring to the design decision making process. In the participatory design-build process, the community is engaged and educated by the architect, while at the same time the architect is engaged and educated by the community.

My experiences taught me so much more about what life is really like in the remote northern regions of Alaska. I started out seeking a solution, and instead found

many more questions. Alejandro Aravena said, “Participatory design is mainly trying to identify what is the right question. There is nothing worse than answering well the wrong question.�

I am still trying to figure out exactly what the right question is for rural Arctic communities, and I believe the only way to do that is to keep engaging those communities.

The process needs to be ongoing, with a continual exchange between the designers and the people of the arctic.

However, we also have a responsibility as architects to use our knowledge to develop solutions. In the process of developing a framework for design-build, I stumbled upon a concept that has potential for the Arctic.

As I continue to teach community designbuild, I must also continue to explore the architectural ideas the process produces.

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IMAGE SOURCES All images not listed here are by the author.

Milly Baker

www.dioceseoffairbanks.org

Rob Carillo

akbiblesem.org

loganandjack.blogspot.com

www.city-data.com

commons.wikimedia.org

www.theglobeandmail.com

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yupikscience.org

emilybatesblog.wordpress.com

eirikjohnson.com

thesischronicle.wordpress.com

www.polarfield.com

Rob Carillo

www.verfotosde.org

Rob Carillo

panoramio.com

Rob Carillo

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