Graduate Thesis Dissertation: On Augmenting Architecture by Ryan Myers

On Augmenting Architecture Ryan M. Myers

Thesis submitted to the faculty of the Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University in partial fulfillment of the requirement for the degree of

Master of Architecture in Architecture

Kay F. Edge, Chair

Patrick A. Doan, Committee Member

Christopher B. Pritchett, Committee Member

May 10, 2017 Blacksburg, Virginia

Key Words: phenomenology, material, craft, complexity, contrast, balance, representation, nature, ornamentation, path, procession, courtyard, stair, bridge, columbarium

On Augmenting Architecture Ryan M. Myers

Abstract The thesis was originally meant to be an investigation into the necessity of architectural ornamentation. Throughout the exploration however, it became evident that architectural ornamentation was not all that was being studied. Instead, a broader term was needed in order to define the study. Instead of simply ornamenting architecture, the thesis is a study on augmenting architecture; more precisely, a study of the several elemental ways through which architectural experience can most effectively be augmented to foster aesthetic expression and heighten general architectural experience. The thesis deals with five of these fundamental elements; phenomenology, craft, contrast, complexity, and representation. The project that has been developed with these ideas in mind is an ancestral columbarium and the path that leads visitors to it. It is sited in a theoretical Virginian landscape that was designed simultaneously with the architecture, in order to present the architectural ideas with greater clarity and precision. The columbarium and path are a part of a larger family residence that includes an ancestral home, but for the sake of time the home was not designed. Instead, the relevant ideas are expressed through the path to the ancestral columbarium and the columbarium itself.

Acknowledgments My parents, Doug and Julie, who have supported me (in more ways than one) throughout my education and who have always encouraged me to pursue my happiness. Not to mention the whole life-giving thing. My advisors, Kay, Patrick, and Chris, who have helped me throughout this year and before to develop the work into something I can be proud of. Especially to Chris, who has been a friend and mentor since my first year in architecture school, and who has been a great influence on my personal and educational development throughout my tenure at Virginia Tech. Matt and Jeff in the metal shop, bringing my drawings into reality with their magnificent metal-working skills. And finally, Peggy, who patiently helped me through all the bureaucracy, without which I would not have graduated. Thank you all so much.

Table of Contents

Title

Abstract

iii

Acknowledgments

Table of Contents

Site

1-2

Clearing

3-4

Courtyard

5-8

Plan and Section

Perspective

Stair

9 - 12

Plan, Section, and Railing Detail

Perspective

Bridge

13 - 16

Plan and Section

Perspective

Columbarium

17 - 34

Birds-Eye View and Section 1

Front Elevation, Plan, Exterior Gate, and Interior Door

Gate Hinge and Gate Handle Details

Section 2 with Day-lighting

Section 2 with Candle-lighting

Section 2

Section 3

Section 3 with Candle-lighting

Ornamental Detail

Appendix

35 - 56

Handrail Fragment

37 - 38

Semiotics

Process Work

41 - 42

Posters

43 - 56

List of References

1. Phenomenological Experience: Phenomenological experience relates to the emotional or experiential reactions to qualities of the surrounding environment; i.e. haptic, aural, olfactory, visual, and (less often but still necessary to mention) gustatory perceptions that evoke a unique architectural experience.

2. Material Craft: Can relate to phenomenological experience in the way that material choices can alter sensory perceptions. But this mainly focuses on the substantial qualities of material; i.e. how relationships between differing materials are addressed, how materials are finished, the process innate in creating an object, etc.

3. Contrast (Balance): Contrast is important to creating aesthetic and experiential interest. Without contrast of experience, the senses become accustomed to the setting and begin to perceive less and less; in much the same way that a person’s eyes can always see their nose, but the brain chooses not to perceive that information as closely because it is unchanging and thus irrelevant. In this way a space or series of spaces may become monotonous and ineffective without proper experiential contrast. Aesthetic contrast can facilitate experiential contrast, but separately is more grounded in the manipulation of material. There are many ways in which to achieve aesthetic contrast, and one must not necessarily be chosen over others, but without proper contrast, a surface will appear aesthetically unappealing due to a lack of balance between order and disorder. The surface may either appear sterile (order overtaking disorder) or the surface may appear alien and unrelatable (disorder overtaking order). Neither of these results are desirable and so care must be taken to construct the proper balance between contrasting aesthetic elements.

4. Representation: If architecture is truly an art and is ever meant to transcend its explicit material realities, then architecture must be representative in some respect. There are many ways in which a work of architecture can be representative, and it would be foolish to presume understanding of them all, but it is obvious to say that all forms of representation are helpful in expanding the physical or experiential reach of a construct beyond its own objective limitations. Through representation, connections can be made to far-reaching ideas that might not otherwise exist. Fundamentally, representation is an effective way of implicitly describing the intent of the architecture.

5. Complexity: Complexity is an element that can present itself as a sub-element of the others previously described, but is certainly important enough to be cataloged separately. Complexity is necessary to elevate the architecture beyond its fundamentals. It draws one deeper into the architecture (either physically or experientially) in an effort to decipher the (either aesthetic or heuristic) language. Complexity is also an innately human condition – humanity is an inherently complex thing, and it is worthwhile to recognize that through architectural expression.

The path begins in a clearing in the woods that leads to a courtyard located near the edge of a cliff that overlooks a river basin. The courtyard is an intersection of the main axis of entry for the home and the perpendicular axis of the path leading to the columbarium. A grand stair cuts through the cliff to continue the path to the columbarium at the level of the river. A modest bridge crosses the river to a wooded island, and a stone path culminates at the door of the columbarium.

Clearing The columbarium would typically be visited by family members either visiting or permanently residing in the ancestral home. Because of this, the path must truly begin there. Mounted on the wall inside the side exit of the residence that leads to the path to the columbarium is a bronze tray holding a dark walnut box containing matches. Above this tray hangs a painted steel lantern. The base of the lantern is hollowed out to form a compartment the exact size to securely contain the box of matches. It is evident that these are to be brought with any who might be visiting the columbarium. A grass footpath delineated by strips of travertine set into the earth begins outside the side exit and disappears into the wood. At the beginning of this path is a large travertine slab set into the ground in the same way as the travertine strips on either side of it. A circle is etched at the center of the slab in anticipation of where this path will lead. The path enters the forest and winds its way through the wood – a microcosmic journey to prepare visitors for the true journey they are about to undertake. This entry path terminates at the North edge of a clearing, at the center of which is another slab of travertine much like the one that marked the beginning of this path. On approaching the center of the clearing, sunlight breaks through the canopy above, warming the skin after the shade of the path through the wood. Stepping onto the travertine slab, the hardness of it is a noticeable contrast from the soft grass of the clearing. Etched into the center of the slab is a circle identical to the one previous. Now, however, it is evident what the circle is representing – this clearing and a starting point for the path to the columbarium. Ahead, a gravel path constrained by two strips of travertine stretches West to the edge of the clearing and then onward through the wood. It is obvious now that this path is something different from the previous one between the home and the clearing – the procession to the columbarium has begun. The stone slab not only signals the beginning of the procession, but also acts as a transitional element from the organic architecture of the forest to the constructed architecture of man. Standing on the slab, the sound of rustling leaves is all around, warm sunlight illuminates the center of the clearing, and dappled light filters through branches toward the edge of the clearing. Furthermore, the space can be interpreted as more than a point from which to commune with nature. It can also be seen as an allegory for the beginning of life; referencing the Judeo-Christian idea of the natural Garden of Eden being the origin of consciousness (similarly, Ruskin and Laugier saw this natural setting as the origin of architecture through the ‘primitive hut’). In a more formally representative way, the circular clearing may represent a womb from which visitors exit to proceed on the path (life), and the shadowed path through the trees that leads to the courtyard may represent the birth canal as the transitory element between the womb and life. Proceeding onward, the linear path and the orthogonal slab with its perfect circle contrast the organic forms of the surrounding nature. The simple line of the path also contrasts with the previous path to arrive here. This contrast further illustrates the transition that is taking place between the natural constructed environments. Now walking on the path, gravel crunches underfoot. This creates a simultaneous aural and haptic perception – the earthy “crunch” and the uneasy texture of the many small rocks underfoot. This immediate relationship to these phenomena gives an intimate perception of personal space while walking on the gravel, giving a more introspective experience as opposed to the extrospective perception of nature that the clearing and its preceding path facilitated. Exiting the clearing, the path cuts through the wood with trees encroaching close on either side, branches weaving a canopy above. The crunch of gravel underfoot heightens the intimacy of the close sylvan space. The sounds of stone and tree harmonize to prime the aural sense for the procession. The earthy smell of the gravel and decomposing leaves on the floor, in concert with the fresh smell of live trees prime the olfactory sense. The variation of light conditions (the open light of the clearing, the dappled light of the clearing’s edge, the relative dim of the canopied path, and the brightness at the exit of the wood) primes the visual sense. The natural architecture acts as the ultimate phenomenological primer.

Courtyard Emerging from the wood, the crunch of the gravel preserves the intimacy of the experience while in this new, expansive outdoor space. Passing through the gap in the concrete wall that bounds the courtyard, the smooth surface of the wall contrasts markedly with the roughness of the stones (both the gravel and the larger boulders placed throughout the courtyard) and trees in the vicinity. The few trees in the courtyard maintain a connection to nature as the sounds and smells of the forest fade behind. The aspects of these trees are fractional in comparison to the encompassing wood, but still maintain the connection. The seemingly random placement of trees and rocks throughout the courtyard balances the orthogonal, ordered architecture of the space; man-made order provides the structure in which the organic expression of natural forms can flourish.

The center of the courtyard is the nexus of the two axes of the residential complex, defined by a square outlined by the strips of travertine that edge each gravel path. This square, being located where it is in the courtyard and being at the intersection of two main paths, compels visitors to pause momentarily to make a decision about whether to continue on the path West, or quit the procession by veering North or South. The paths are clearly defined at this point, being outlined not only by travertine strips, but also by large travertine flagstones. While pausing at this intersection, visitors are confronted by several distinct horizon planes – the first being the hard line of the concrete wall that signals the edge of the courtyard, the second the natural edge of the cliff, and the third the natural horizon in the distance. The effect is striking; each horizon relates to the other, making the closer horizons seem more distant and the further horizons appearing more immediate. The path to exit the courtyard now seems to be a more distant journey, while the horizon of the earth almost seems to be confrontational in its proximity. Proceeding along the path to exit the courtyard, the line of the cliff edge is broken by a cut through which the stair descends. The cut frames the end of the path, revealing where the procession will lead. In the distance, the columbarium stands impassive, its green weathered bronze gate a beacon for the journey’s destination.

Stair The crunch of gravel persists up to the travertine slab that signifies the transition from courtyard and gravel path to stair. The slab is etched with a simple line through the center, symbolizing the general form of the stair and its cut through the cliff. The sound of rustling leaves has faded into the distant background, replaced by the sound of the wind over the cliff. At the top of the stair, the cut through the cliff now frames the entirety of the remaining path. The bridge is now perceived as the next destination, followed by the path ultimately leading to the columbarium. The woods and river beyond the architecture are also framed, elevating them perhaps as a destination beyond even the ultimate terminus of the columbarium. To both sides of the stair is a handrail made from black walnut and bronze, with steel structural supports anchored in the stair itself. The wood is soft and smooth to the touch, worn by repeated use, the oils of many hands staining the wood an even darker hue. The wood sections are fitted into the bronze sections with a semi-biaxial tongue-and-groove joint. The bronze sections are set above the structural posts that support the rail, drawing attention to and elevating a material joint that might otherwise go unnoticed. Cut into the bronze sections is a pattern that represents the form of the post beneath, further emphasizing the joint and the rail’s structure. Descending the stair, gravel-filled treads are interrupted by travertine landings. After the gravel’s ever-present crunch, the contrast of the silent stone landings engenders a brief reflection to create a moment of pause. The railing also breaks at each landing, further exaggerating this pause by removing the most obvious tactile connection to the architecture. During this ephemeral moment, the sound of rushing water drifts up the drains located at the center of each landing and generates an aural connection that supplements the visual one of the river ahead.

The landings have grooves cut into them that continue from grooves cut in drainways to either side of the stair. These grooves delineate the pattern of drainage on the stair and act as troughs that guide water to the drains at the center of each landing. These square drains are covered by gridded bronze grates set flush with the surface of the landing. The grates each have a drip edge formed around their inner surface to force any drain water to drip instead of run down the side of the drain, heightening aural perception of the water. As the descent continues, the earth rises up on either side to amplify the introspective intimacy of the space. The smell of the earth and stone dominates olfactory perception and vision is limited to the path directly ahead, the columbarium waiting somberly in the distance. Upon exiting the stair, the impressive earth walls rising to either side end abruptly, releasing into the expanse of the river basin with the cliff face stretching out to either side. The contrast between these two spatial conditions keeps the mind functioning perceptively, constantly aware of the changing surroundings, attempting to find what will change next. The handrail ends with a black walnut cap, a soft terminus that has been worn and polished even more over the years by the multitude of hands that use it. Proceeding towards the bridge, the earthy smell of the rock walls and the stair are replaced by the fresh smells of flowing water and grass. The echoed river sounds projected by the drains in the stair also fade to be replaced by direct sounds from the river.

Bridge Approaching the bridge on the gravel path, the architecture is once again preceded by a transitional slab of travertine. Etched into the center of this slab is a line with a square at its midpoint, the motif again referencing the form of the architectural feature into which the path is transitioning. The first step onto the bridge is deeper than the rest, more of a platform than a step, from which to begin the ascent to the bridge’s center point. The elongation of this platform slows the procession down in order to elongate the penultimate stage of the procession. The railings that line the bridge are the same as the railings on the stair and are spaced the same distance apart to simultaneously maintain the continuous line of the path and relate the architecture of the bridge to that of the stair. Grasping the railing heightens this connection even further by supporting the visual connection with a haptic one. Even though the clearing, courtyard, stair, bridge, and columbarium are all very disparate architectural features, there is a sense of unity between all of them due to small similarities such as this. Proceeding up the steps to the center of the bridge, footfalls are noticeably quieter on the black walnut planks without the gravel’s crunch. This aural contrast creates a void of perception that refocuses on the sounds of the surrounding environment – the river, the trees on the island, the wind whistling past the cut through the cliff; replacing introspection with a heightened perception of the greater natural world. The depth of the stairs slows the ascent – instead of the typical gait of one step per tread, the depth of these steps require closer to one-and-a-half steps per tread. The awkward pace forces a more measured procession through the architecture, giving visitors more time to focus on the natural phenomena around them before ultimately entering the columbarium.

At the center of the bridge, the gradual climb is stopped altogether by a break in the railing. The rail continues down the other side of the bridge to the island, but there is an unbounded gap between. This tactile interruption is the natural culmination of the disrupted ascent, and the central platform of the bridge extends further past the implied line of the path to suggest an area of momentary repose off the main way. The full stop creates an opportunity for even deeper perception of the surrounding nature by no longer devoting any brainpower to movement; focus can be completely directed to exterior perception. Centered over the middle of the river, the sounds and smells of the rushing water envelop the senses. The walnut planks that span the center platform are clad on both ends by bronze caps to imply a secondary boundary beyond the railing. Countersunk bolts that fasten the boards to the steel structure beneath form lines that continue the path of the railing in a passive manner. The black-painted steel bolts blend into the dark wood so as to not visually denote a separation of spaces on the center platform. The bronze caps at the edges of the platform draw the eye and, in turn, denote the extents of the space. The path at the end of the bridge is no longer filled with gravel; instead the path is formed entirely out of travertine slabs. Where there would typically be a travertine slab to signify the transition between the architecture and the path is a line etched across the width of the path to signify where the border of that slab would be. This transitional material is now acting as the medium between the bridge and the columbarium instead of the bridge and the path. Muffled footfalls on the travertine surface do not distract from the external perception of the natural environment that has been evident since beginning to cross the bridge. This extrospection focuses the senses on the sound and smell of the trees and grass that are now all around with the sound of the river in the background. These vibrant natural smells contrast the phenomenological experience of the columbarium with a sort of dramatic irony, overemphasizing one side of the spectrum in order to create an even greater contrast of perception when the awareness spectrum shifts. This intense sensual awareness of nature is directly referential to the phenomenological experience of the clearing that began the path. This recurrent connection from the culmination of the path to its origin is suggestive of the cyclical nature of life and alludes to the innate connection between life and death.

Columbarium The columbarium rises grey, monolithic and impassive from the center of the island, its silent austerity complimenting the silence of walking on the travertine path. The weathered bronze gate set into the entrance is tinged bright green. In the spring and summer months the green color references the surrounding trees and grass, and alludes to the naturalized ornamentation on the interior of the columbarium in an attempt to subconsciously prepare visitors for what is to come. In the autumn and winter, the green would still allude to the naturalized ornamentation, but simultaneously provide a bright contrast to the muted concrete building and the dormant nature surrounding it. The green gate has also contrasted the entire length of the path leading up to it. Previously, the path had been devoid of any vibrant colors (excluding the trees and other natural elements), so this anomaly has acted as a beacon to draw visitors toward the entrance to the columbarium. Passing from path onto the building slab, the architecture yields to the approach. Underfoot, etched into the travertine slab on which the columbarium rests, is a path the same width as the one that leads up to it. The etching on the slab is the same rough texture of the path, so as to make a practical walking surface that is less slippery, but also to continue the line of the procession to the interior of the columbarium. Polished in the center of the etched section is the final motif of a line with a rectangle at its end, a nod to the form of the columbarium and the path to it, and informing visitors that this is the final destination of the journey. The façade forms a concave canopy within which the bronze entry gate is set. This hollowed space produces a volume that captures ambient surrounding sounds and amplifies them at the point of entrance. The increased aural intensity imparts one final instance of heightened perception toward the natural surroundings before entering the columbarium.

Moving forward, visitors are confronted with the bronze gate they must first unlock to enter the columbarium. The section of the gate that is at level with its handle is articulated with a hammer-beaten finish. The door hinges are cast bronze, decorated with highly intricate ornamentation that acts in conjunction with the green color to prime visitors further for the articulated natural ornamentation on the interior. This representative expression contrasts the rather austere surface of the gate, balancing the simple utility of the gate and the hinges that allow it to function with the beauty of naturalized ornamentation. The gate does not reach all the way to either the top of the threshold or the bottom – save for a small foot underneath the handle side of the door. This signals its function as a gate as opposed to a final barrier to the interior. The key turns easily in its lock and the mechanism slides its bolt into the unlocked position. Reaching forward, the handle is angled at such a way so that the hand reaching out to it is already at the angle necessary for grasping it. This angle is directly referential to the angle of the boards forming the interior door; another subconscious primer for what is to come. The handle is formed to fit comfortably in the visitor’s hand. On top of the ergonomic form, leather strips wrap the bronze to create a more pleasant surface to interact with – both in terms of grip and tactility. Finally pulling the gate forward, the bronze scrapes against the floor, putting up resistance that is significant enough to represent the gravity associated with entering this space, but not enough to jam the gate in place. As the gate swings outward, the foot of the gate traces a bronze arc set flush into the travertine floor. Stepping past the gate, visitors enter an extended threshold, entry to the inner sanctum still barred by a heavy wood door, framed by steel brackets. Immediately to the left are two candles; one placed in a niche formed into the concrete wall and the other in a portable holder suspended off of the wall below by two bronze pegs. Between the two candles is a basin filled with water, formed into the concrete wall similarly to the candle niche. The presence of the water and the dimensions of the basin suggest that visitors may cleanse their hands before finally entering the space. After making use of the basin, visitors may light the candle in the niche, a signal that the columbarium is currently occupied by someone seeking privacy. Visitors may then light the portable candle and lift the holder from its resting place. In doing this, a small groove is revealed in which the candleholder was set. This peg and the groove in it mirror exactly the peg from which the lantern was hung at the beginning of the procession, conveying to visitors that lantern should be hung here before entering the space. Now, hands cleansed, lantern hung securely in place, and candle illuminating the way, visitors may prepare to enter the ancestral shrine. Turning attention toward the wood door, it is obvious that it is made of the same black walnut that formed the handrails previous, maintaining unity of the material palette that is recurrent throughout the procession. The walnut boards are angled toward a structural bracket offset one foot from the left-hand side of the door, directly referencing the seam at which the nearby exterior gate and stationary screen meet. The handle on the interior door is angled at the same slope as the boards, the same angle as the handle on the gate, to receive the hand in the same natural way. The materiality of both the exterior gate and the interior door contrast with the stark concrete surfaces of the threshold and the columbarium as a whole. This gives the portal a softer, more human warmth which, in turn, draws visitors inward. Finally gripping the handle of the door and pushing it inward, visitors are confronted with its great weight that contributes to the feeling of security and solitude of the space within. Upon opening the door completely, visitors may notice light glinting off a bronze strip set flush with the surface of the travertine floor, delineating the swing of the door in the same way that a strip of bronze delineated the swing of the exterior gate.

After shutting the door behind, silence descends on the space. This immersive silence is markedly more noticeable after the concentration of ambient natural sounds at the point of entry. The only sound present in any significant way is now the breathing and heartbeat of the visitor, now refocusing perception on introspection after the previous focus on the intensity of the exterior environment. The melancholy silence of the space is complimented by its simple lighting. If it is daytime, the space is illuminated by sunlight washing down the door wall from a strip skylight. The light washes over the niche doors that enclose the ancestral ashes of the family, creating a connection between the cremated remains and the heavens.

If visiting after night has fallen, the space is lit solely by the candle carried in by visitors. The path etched into the travertine floor leads to a massive, honed block of black granite sitting in the center of the space. Its polished surface reflects the candlelight, further adding to the complex patterns of veins running through the stone, while at the same time contrasting its simple form with those complex patterns that are innate to its materiality. Immediately noticeable upon entering the space are the complex surfaces that appear to cover the walls of the room. It is not instantly obvious what comprises the complexity without closer inspection, but the intense articulation of the enclosing surfaces charges the room with a complexity that directly contrasts the modest lighting of the room, the simple cubic volume of the room, and the unassuming geometric form of the central altar. Even more noticeable, however, may be the contrast between the overriding silence of the space and the nearly overpowering complexity of the wall surfaces. Upon closer inspection of a wall, the complex detail becomes even more apparent. The many surfaces are in differing states of relief, some more pronounced than others, but all articulated in order to deflect sound waves and moderate sound in the room. The surface is, in reality, a series of terra cotta panels hung on the concrete structure, with a highly sound absorptive material set behind the terra cotta. The high articulation of the surface combined with the absorptive material creates a very nearly anechoic chamber. It is interesting to note that the complex surfaces, which so contrast with the stillness of the room, is directly responsible for that silence. However, the flickering light of the candle that illuminates the space may noticeably contrast the overt stillness of the room, especially when closely inspecting the ornamented wall surfaces. Holding the candle close to the terra cotta surfaces, the flickering light casts flickering shadows onto the walls, adding another layer of complexity to the surfaces as well as producing an interesting interplay between the dancing shadows and static ornamentation.

Further examination of the ornamental panels shows that the patterns are composed of both patterns derived from fundamental geometric forms (i.e. circles, rectangles, triangles, etc.) and organic forms derived from natural motifs. While these figures certainly contrast each other, they seem to reach a confident balance. The geometric forms generate a structure upon which the organic representation is developed. And the organic forms truly are representative – they directly reference the forms inherent to the natural environment that surrounds the columbarium in order to create a space that is very enclosed and private while simultaneously being a space that is of nature. The ornamentation also draws a reference to the beginning of the path. The room created by the clearing in the forest is directly comparable to the interior of the columbarium with all the surrounding walls clad in naturalized ornament – the constructed walls of the architecture mirror the natural walls of the clearing. At the same time that the interior of the columbarium seems to clearly share essential characteristics with the clearing, they also appear to be diametrically dissimilar. The literal difference in being on opposite ends of the path and separated by significant elevation change is obvious, but there are conceptual contrasts between the two as well. The clearing is soft underfoot, has fresh smells of nature, and a warmth if color (at least in the spring and summer), whereas the columbarium has a hard stone floor, a generally cold, dusky atmosphere, and a muted color palette consisting of mainly greys and browns. Also, the clearing is well lit by the open sky, whereas the columbarium is dimly lit, and the experience necessitates the assistance of candlelight. These differences illustrate the magnitude of the journey that has just been undertaken and balances out the overall experience. The differences also illustrate the original metaphorical interpretation of this journey from life to death – the beginning of life represented in the clearing and the end of it represented in the columbarium interior. However, the candle-lit condition does create an interesting similarity between the two spaces in how the flickering light of the candle seems to animate the ornamented wall surfaces in a way that is surprisingly similar to how trees may move in the breeze. Perhaps this shows that the difference between life and death is not all that great at all, and that in dying, life is returned to nature to be reborn and begin the journey anew.

Turning to face the door wall and the niches set therein to regard the remains of those interred, visitors notice candles set in holders below each niche. The candles may be lit at the discretion of the visitor to designate which ancestors are currently being remembered or visited and illuminate the room further. The cast bronze plates that cover the niches below the candles are set flush with the ornamentation hung on the wall. This creates a seemingly uninterrupted ornamented surface – only the material change from terra cotta to bronze suggests a difference between the two surfaces. Each bronze plate is uniquely ornamented, with the name of the ancestor and the ancestor’s dates of birth and death emblazoned in the center of the surface. Depending on the time of day, the above skylight may also be illuminating the names of the ancestors along with the candles. Regardless of how the niches may be illuminated, the lighting of these surfaces refocuses visitors on the reason that they have journeyed to this columbarium.

After refocusing on this familial motivation, it becomes apparent that the ornamentation enclosing the interior and adorning the niche plates serves an even further function beyond those previously perceived. Here, the ornamentation not only juxtaposes the practical, ordered parts of the architecture, it augments the practicality in order for the architecture to become more representative of the human condition – a complex intertwining of order and chaos, of logic and emotion.

To paraphrase Jordan Peterson, people are drawn to religion because it teaches the correct way to live. It teaches that a person should live in a way that is good for the person, but also in a way that is good for those close to the person (family, friends, etc.). On a slightly larger scale, the individual should live in a way that is good for the individual’s community, but also in a way that is good for the environment and the world at large. Furthermore, the individual should live so that things are good for all of those constituent parts not just in the moment, but also a week from now, a year from now, and even one thousand years into the future. All of these considerations are packed into the confines of one lived life. The order of one life is comprised of the intertwining lines of attention paid to all these people and environments. Peterson suggests that this complexity is a lesson to be learned from religious teachings, specifically through Biblical stories. He also suggests that this is why people are so enamored with music – because the complex sequences of notes and chords, percussion, strings, brass, woodwind, all working around and through one another represent a complexity that is inherent to the human condition. If this complexity is so admired when perceived through music and religious teachings, then certainly it can be just as relevant when expressed through ornamental form in architecture. By expressing the general spirit of human existence, the ornamentation is not referencing just one specific ancestor and their life, rather it is referencing the lives of all who may be interred in the columbarium and even the lives of those who may be visiting the architecture. But beyond even that, the columbarium and its expressive ornamentation is simply a microcosm of the entire journey that has been undertaken. The humanity that is expressed through the architectural ornamentation of the columbarium has been expressed throughout the procession, culminating in a concentrated volume of expression. The crossing from the ancestral living space to the ancestral interment space has engaged visitors with complex sequences of both space and perception, culminating in a space that is the embodiment of many of those complexities, in an effort to create for the visitor an experience that is both peaceful and exciting, complex and simple that elevates the perceptual awareness of the visitor and forms a meaningful relationship between the visitor, the ancestor, and nature.

Appendix This thesis, while thorough enough in its investigation of a few topics, fails to satisfactorily cover every topic that is of relevance to its architecture. Given unlimited time and resources, it might be possible to completely satisfy all of the ideas that are relevant to the project, but unfortunately that is not the case. The attempt of the thesis was to cover those ideas that were most relevant to the architecture, and hopefully that has been successful; however, several other not-quite-asrelevant ideas have been considered throughout the course of the project, and here those ideas are tentatively laid out.

Railing Fragment One of the things that wanted to be explored more throughout the project, but was avoided because of how difficult it would be to sufficiently investigate within such a constrained time period was the question of human scale. One of the unfortunate qualities of the ornamental expression on Sullivan’s towers is that the ornamentation is so divorced from the scale of the person interacting with it. The cornice of his Guaranty Building is so rich with naturalized ornamental expression and while the building is certainly still one of the great architectural masterpieces of the 19th century, the ornamentation and scale of the building is so at odds with that of a person, that most of the ornamental expression is almost impossible to actually view and all but wasted. With this in mind, it seems necessary to work at a scale and in a way that ensures an accurate perception of the scale of a design and how a person might actually interact with the architecture. And what could be more relevant to human interaction than a handrail? To this end, great attention was paid to the design of the handrail that runs down the stair and across the bridge, previously mentioned in the description of the architecture, culminating in the manufacture of a 1-to-1 scale fragment of that railing in order to test whether its anticipated qualities manifested in reality. The fragment could be either the end of a left-hand rail, or the beginning of a right-hand one, and is constructed out of black walnut, aluminum, and steel, the former two materials milled with a CNC router to create their ergonomic shape with enough accuracy that they would fit together in the end. However, the design calls for black walnut, bronze, and steel, as the materials, and with unlimited resources, that is certainly how the fragment would have been constructed, but aluminum served as a passable replacement for bronze for the purposes of this study. The haptic qualities that the handrail was designed to have were definitely created by the fragment. The idea of switching from the softer wood to a harder metal and back to wood to emphasize the joint where a post would be supporting the rail was definitely successful. It was also evident that the pattern etched into the top of the metal piece further emphasized the joint by quickly transitioning from a smooth surface to a textured one and back again. This moment of contrast creates a signal and forces a person to perceive a part of the architecture they otherwise might not.

On Semiotics A final idea that revealed itself towards the culmination of the thesis is that of semiotics and its relationship to augmenting architecture, specifically through ornamental representation and phenomenological experience. It would seem that this idea could be carried through into an entirely separate thesis, so it must be stated that only a cursory amount of time has been spent dwelling on the subject. However, it certainly is an important factor to consider in architectural design and so this short passage has been included in the appendix. Upon looking back over the project through the lens of semiotics, it would seem that the design had already been somewhat influenced by such ideas, although subconsciously. The entire notion of representative architecture, whether it be referencing itself (as the end of the path tends to reference its beginning) or referencing external entities (as the naturalized ornamentation on the exterior of the columbarium tends to reference Nature), is directly analogous to the signifier/ signified relationship prevalent in semiotic discourse. But what exactly constitutes a “signifier”? Must it be an obvious, concrete object like Venturi’s duck, or can it be something less tangible, like the crunch of gravel or the smell of a deciduous wood? It can be argued that it is certainly both, and perhaps even more so the latter, as people are constantly experiencing such phenomena throughout the course of every day. Every experience is charged with the knowledge gained from similar experiences that occurred previously, so that when a person encounters the smell and sound of a gentle river, the mind recalls corresponding past experiences to assist in navigating the present one. If this is true, then the choreography of an architecture and its site could begin to allow the architecture to transcend its physical and even temporal limitations through how it is perceived by its user. In this way, every architectural experience becomes slightly different, with the architecture acting as less as the object of perception and more as a framework upon which the individual places his or her own past experiences to achieve a novel understanding of the space. At a basic level, the physical expression of the architecture can certainly act as a signifier. As previously mentioned, the naturalized ornamentation adorning the interior of the columbarium is probably the most direct example of this. In this example one can even begin to see the basic elements of language. Similarly to English, in that in order to successfully communicate using it, nouns, verbs, and other linguistic modifiers need to be included in a balanced way, so too in order to create a successful composition of naturalized ornamentation (or really any architectural expression) an aesthetic balance must be achieved between simplicity and complexity. This could be a balance between orthogonal geometries and natural forms (as in the columbarium interior), between simple forms and complex expression (as in the outer form of the columbarium compared to its interior), between contrasting materials (as in the joint on the handrails), between contrasting phenomenological experiences (as in the aural change between the exterior of the columbarium and its interior), or even between differing phenomenological stimuli (the complex natural sounds of the clearing juxtaposed with the linear, constructed path). Even with this interpretation, who is to say that a “balanced” architectural language is always necessary? It would seem through the investigation of this thesis, that it is necessary overall, but perhaps not at very specific moments. Since the architecture, at its root is comprised of a multitude of differing architectural experiences and expressions, at any one point the architectural language might be completely unbalanced. But when viewed as a whole, the architecture should read like a well-written sentence or a well-composed line of music, where any one word or note out of context might not make sense, but overall it reads as a complete thought.

Process Work Throughout the thesis, a lot of the development of the project came by way of thinking deeply on the topic, not as much by iterating. The extreme length of time that it would take to produce one of the hand drawings didn’t allow for any drawing to be easily reproduced, but did afford a great amount of time to think about what was actually being put down on the paper. Through this contemplation and discussion with advisors and peers, small notes (both mental and written) were kept and then the drawings were edited digitally to produce the desired final product. However, in order to initially create a drawing that was as close as possible to a final product, preliminary concepts as well as textures were sketched out on a roll of trace, various other bits of scrap paper, and a sketchbook. Of these three methods, the roll was probably the most interesting tool for documenting the progression of the project. Unfortunately it reads counter-intuitively from right to left, but its unique linear nature lends itself to describing the evolution of work throughout the year. Within the sketches, it can be found what was considered at the earliest stages of the project, and perhaps which elements were considered a bit more thoroughly than others. Throughout the set there are also several details that were worked out to a degree of completion that might not be conveyed through the main drawings of the thesis.

On the Posters The posters were an unanticipated part of the thesis. What began as a side project to explore the construction of naturalized ornamentation through the methods described by Louis Sullivan in A System of Architectural Ornament, became very obviously linked to the work involved in the architectural project. Perhaps this was inevitable, since both the posters and the architecture were being designed simultaneously, but that may be too simplistic a reaction to the congruencies in the design methods. Moreover, if the two projects were separated by a significant span of time, it is probable that they would still have culminated in the same (or at least very similar) results. This is because the design methodology used to create each work should not waver – the process of designing a poster should not differ drastically from the process of designing an architectural construct. Each still benefits greatly from the use of the five fundamental elements of augmentation previously described in the thesis. In contrast to an architectural project though, the posters could be seen as more problematic to begin designing. Unlike the columbarium and its path, the starting points of human scale, site, and program are not present in two-dimensional graphic expression on an 18” x 24” sheet of paper. In order to cultivate a starting point for the prints, the name Sullivan was chosen (a rather unimportant choice used to reference the initial inspiration) to be the basic motif upon which to construct the design. The choice of using lettering as the base for the design is actually a significant one. Letters provide very distinct axes, symmetry/asymmetry, and spatial properties that can act as the “seed-germs” of formal expression that Sullivan writes about in A System of Architectural Ornament. In this way, the axes that are being elaborated on to create the naturalized ornamentation are not simply conjured out of thin air, but are pre-described and varying to a certain degree while maintaining definite parallels between each iteration. Each poster became it’s own exploration of the structure provided by its respective letter, to varying degrees of success. While drawing the ornamental forms, it was somewhat difficult to anticipate the appearance of the final product, as the introduction of each new form created a sub-axis that then influenced the placement and nature of subsequent pieces. Because of this, the prints weren’t fully evaluated until they were finished and viewed as a part of the complete set of letters. Upon final evaluation, it would seem that the letters with less obvious symmetries (for example ‘S’ and ‘N’) were more successful. It’s not entirely obvious why this is the case. Perhaps when gifted with a very symmetrical object, it is more difficult to avoid preconceptions about what the formal expression is, resulting in very “easy” expression that doesn’t challenge the viewer with any significant complexity. Or perhaps the inherent laziness of a symmetrical motif propagates laziness in ornamental form constructed from that motif. Or perhaps it’s something else entirely. For example, the letters that are less successful also tend to have heavier line weights delineating the image, which seem to overpower the rest of the print. Similarly, the unsuccessful posters tend to have more white space and less density of ornamentation than those that are more successful. With such a small, uncontrolled sample group it’s difficult to say which of these qualities may be the primary contributing factor to a sub-par composition, or if it’s reliant on a combination of bad decisions that become overwhelming in the end. It’s also difficult to say whether the symmetry of the letters directly caused any of the aesthetic shortcomings of the posters, but it’s interesting to consider why this might be the case. By assessing which posters are more aesthetically pleasing and which are less-so, and then evaluating why they are perceived as good or bad, a list of properties can be established that constitutes how such posters should be made. For these, the list of desirable traits ended up consisting of (1) asymmetry, (2) density, (3) balance (of color and of form), (4) activity (a more ethereal quality that is difficult to quantify but is obvious when seen), and (5) precision of craft. These traits line up fairly consistently with those previously described; asymmetry and density are easily categorized under complexity, balance (of color and form) is congruous with contrast (balance), activity could be aligned with phenomenological experience in that the static forms of the print are expressing a movement that isn’t actually happening, and precision of craft obviously lines up with material craft. Since the posters and the architectural thesis were developed in close proximity to each other, this outcome of aligned aesthetic expression isn’t terribly surprising. But after evaluating the prints on a fundamental aesthetic level and assembling a list of valuable properties that lines up more or less exactly with the fundamental elements that were used to design the architecture, it is evident that there is something to these aesthetic elements. They seem to be possessed of a greater truth now that they are corroborated in a design project that is acutely dissimilar from the original thesis.

List of References Bush-Brown, Albert. Louis Sullivan. New York: George Braziller, 1960. Print. Ford, Edward R. The Architectural Detail. New York: Princeton Architectural, 2011. Print. Frampton, Kenneth, and John M. Cava. Studies in Tectonic Culture: The Poetics of Construction in Nineteenth and Twentieth Century Architecture. Cambridge, MA: MIT, 1995. Print. Lahti, Markku. Alvar Aalto Houses. Ed. Jari Jetsonen. Trans. Kristina Kölhi and Gareth Griffiths. Helsinki: Rakennustieto Oy, 2005. Print. Leatherbarrow, David, and Mohsen Mostafavi. Surface Architecture. Cambridge, MA: MIT, 2002. Print. Ólafsdóttir, Ásdís, PhD, and Esa Laaksonen, eds. Maison Louis Carré: 1956-63. Vol. 20. Helsinki: Alvar Aalto Foundation, 2008. Print. Alvar Aalto, Architect. Pallasmaa, Juhani, Kristian Gullichsen, Göran Schildt, and Renja Suominen-Kokkonen. Alvar Aalto: Villa Mairea: 19381939. Ed. Juhani Pallasmaa. Helsinki: Alvar Aalto Foundation, 1998. Print. Stoller, Ezra, and D. S. Friedman. The Salk Institute. New York: Princeton Architectural, 1999. Print. Summerson, John, Thomas H. Beeby, George Kubler, Denise Scott Brown, David Van Zanten, John B. Jackson, Allan Greenberg, Damie Stillman, and Henry Hope Reed. Ornament. Ed. Stephen Kieran. Philadelphia PA: Graduate School of Fine Arts U of Pennsylvania, 1977. Print. Tuomi, Timo, and Maarit Henttonen, eds. Alvar Aalto in Seven Buildings: Interpretations of an Artist’s Work. Trans. Hildi Hawkins. Helsinki: Museum of Finnish Architecture, 1998. Print. Weingarden, Lauren S. Louis H. Sullivan: The Banks. Cambridge, MA: MIT, 1987. Print. Weingarden, Lauren S. Louis H. Sullivan and A 19th-century Poetics of Naturalized Architecture. Farnham, England: Ashgate, 2009. Print. Weingarden, Lauren S., and Louis H. Sullivan. Louis H. Sullivan: A System of Architectural Ornament. Comp. Lauren S. Weingarden. New York: Rizzoli, 1990. Print.