revisiting place

The notion of place and creating place is frequently discussed in design school and professional practice. Over the past 10 months I have had the opportunity to understand what it means to be "rooted" in place and what it means to actually live in "place." It is easy to get lost in the idea that when we design places people will only use them for a certain period of time and remember them as something special. We, myself included, may tend to get caught up in the idea that we are designing solely for the visitor and not for the permanent resident. (We are designing for ourselves, imagining how we would use the place and what we think is appropriate)

After a semester long seminar of reading about and stretching the discourse on place theory, I have rather confidently confirmed that what I thought I knew was far from what I actually know now.

When I think back to my understanding of place literature, I realize that I kept on relating place and the creation of place to either my comfort zone or my ideal travel destination or past experiences. These concepts address the local and the short-term but don't comprehensively address place as something long-term, adaptable and resilient to the forces of change. After living in Aspen, a place I initially thought was my comfort zone and my ideal travel destination for the past 10 months I have come to realize that if we want to create place as designers, we need to be able to leave our preconceived notions behind and listen to the existing uniqueness of a certain place.

I'm getting at the concept of how well designers can work outside of their scale, their region and their country - and the limitations we should consciously acknowledge. For instance, a lot of us from the NY/NJ area have a far different notion of what makes a place special than someone from an impoverished neighborhood in, say, Kansas. Further, if we expand this concept to designing an urban plaza in a Santiago, Chile neighborhood, then we will be pushed even further away from our understanding of culture and societal wants and needs.

So what's the big idea? If I came to Aspen as a designer working on a park, an open space network or a residence with the understanding I had prior to living here for 10 months, my design would have addressed the items I thought were important. It would not have addressed the seasonality, the ecology, the rhythm and frequency of tourism and, most importantly, would not have understood the needs of the long term, permanent residents. Sure, you are thinking, this is why we conduct site analysis (but, in reality, how well do we do that on average?) have public meetings and work with local consultants. And, sure, you are correct. But, how much of our final product is influenced by our initial vision, our feelings and our internal conception of beauty?

If we think about place theory and think about more than just what we like about where we grew up and where we have traveled and instead think about what place means for the people living in the area we are designing, then we have a better chance of designing something special. We may actually design place, and the people who use it every day may actually want to continue to use it and integrate it into their daily lives.

Ultimately, design has to include research and, dare I say, even science. But, don't get me wrong, if we forget art and beauty then we might as well not even put pen to paper in the first place. Design has to respond to context, and I believe that is the elementary framework for place making.

concepts / percepts / affects

Bernard Tschumi FAIA, with Bernard Tschumi Architects, was recently featured at UPenn for the 2011 Louis I. Kahn memorial lecture; the title of his talk was “concepts, percepts, affects.” One of Tschumi’s most recognizable projects (initially, at least for me) that put his practice on the map back in 1983 was Parc de La Villette. They have since conceptualized and implemented a range of urban design, museum, master planning, public buildings, housing, and infrastructure projects throughout the world, including the Acropolis Museum, Elliptic City, and Bridge. Tschumi has also been known to contribute to the theoretical side of design professions with such literature as Architecture and Disjunction, Event-Cities, and many others. Tschumi and the firm have established a reputation as one of today’s foremost architects and practices leading design professions throughout the past 2+ decades.

The “rough approximation” of Tschumi and the firm’s approach is very interesting in that it is spelled out and a fairly specific step-by-step process that values program, constraint, space, movement, material, and above all else concept (and a maintained integrity thereof). During the talk, Tschumi boiled it down to “concepts, percepts, affects.” He used an example of an arch to explain the ideas of each term. The first image illustrates the concept of an arch; the second begins to create a percept through materiality and dimension; the third image evokes emotional affects.

A great example that Tschumi used during the talk to provide clarity in defining “concepts, percepts, affects” was the difference between two projects which have the same concept, but different percepts and affects. He discussed the Rouen Concert Hall and Exhibition Complex and the Limoges Concert Hall and how both projects stem from the same concept, program, and double-envelop-style building. What is the major difference? Materials (percepts), which leads to a different experience (affects).

Tschumi is a starchitect and has achieved great successes in design, but I wonder what the role of starchitect design will be in the future (like the Frank Gehrys and Peter Eisenmans) in comparison to a grass-roots approach that involves community participation. Maybe it is more a question of scale, client and context that defines appropriate approaches, designers and involvement. Thoughts? I know Frank Gehry does not think of himself as a starchitect (check out the article/interview where Gehry defends this notion).

effectiveness of work samples

Lately I have been evaluating the success of a series of work samples as opposed to an in depth portfolio. In many cases the best employment opportunities (subjectivity, noted) arise from ASLA Job Link, Archinect or even via Facebook. Many large firms are broadcasting their job openings to a very general, public audience and, thus, are receiving numerous applications. When 100 or 200+ applications come across the desk of whomever will be in charge of short listing applicants, the level of patience this person has to read through a full portfolio naturally decreases over time.

So, using this scenario as a basis for argument, I tend to favor a comprehensive series of work samples that highlight a few projects and a broad range of skills. However, in playing devil's advocate, the portfolio offers a much more in depth look at projects in terms of process and ability to think critically. A portfolio is undoubtedly more powerful in an interview setting when you have the chance to walk someone through your step by step process.

I suppose the big questions for rating the better option are: how powerful is your portfolio when you are not there to explain it? Conversely, how well can you sum up a project in a work sample to illustrate critical thinking and design ability?

And, how do you keep your portfolio under, say, 5mb?

concept to product

Professional practice demands an intense production schedule and one that heavily favors computer graphics. It's easy to get lost in a world of autoCAD or making numerous curves with the pen tool in illustrator. This has me thinking to remember the importance of a quick hand sketch and the native looseness that can't compare to solely computer generated line work.

a reflection on perfection

Design school has, undeniably, conditioned us to strive for perfection in our work. Juries tend to respond best to the highest quality product, both graphically and conceptually. Top grades are preached as being given only to projects that achieve a certain level of perfection, where doing what is required will simply not suffice. When you add this idea to the fact that studios are a catalyst for competition, it is not surprising that we graduate with the attitude that perfection is the only option. (A quick footnote: we need to be trained in this manner)

Entering professional practice presents a different reality. When you are no longer a student pursuing individual goals, but instead a resource utilized to complete multiple projects efficiently and beautifully, the notion of perfection naturally shifts. Entry level work is initially centered on production and producing a multitude of products for a variety of projects (scale, context, client, design language, etc.). It is possible to put in long hours as one would in a studio in this scenario. However, the responsibilities of the professional designer evolve and you are called upon as more than just a production machine. When responsibilities become more integral to the overall success of a project and eventually multiple projects simultaneously, perfection as we have come to know it cannot be sustained.

Not all projects are competition entries, nor are all projects documented for professional awards. Projects need to be profitable and budgets need to be met. In this case, we have to revise our notion of perfection as has been conditioned in the realm of academics. This is difficult. But, just as we develop a mastery in many practical skills and better understand design, we more quickly achieve beautiful and well thought out concepts, graphics and built work.

Ultimately, the revision is not to settle for less but to push ourselves to continue to learn and, at times, relearn what we have previously been taught. Shifting from academia to professional practice means building upon experience and learning from those who have been in the profession for much longer. When we begin to depart from the idea of perfection (every line just right, every color in perfect harmony or contrast with the next, every tree and shrub perfectly placed) and just put pen to paper, so to speak, we may actually be achieving more beautiful and less restrained design.

Our profession is great in the fact that there is always room to perfect and perfect again - but it is even more interesting to manage that desire for perfection and design without inhibition.

I am interested to hear responses in the form of criticisms, agreements and outright disagreements.