In The Press: Healthy Materials Lab

We are proud to announce that Lindsey Dieter’s essay We Are What We Specify – first published in the launch edition of container – has been featured at Healthy Materials Lab (HML). HML’s mission is to develop, promote, and implement toxin-free building materials whilst simultaneously increasing the transparency of material composition for consumers and professionals alike.

HML is a partnership between Parsons Design Lab, Building Product Ecosystems, Green Science Policy Institute, Healthy Building Network, and Healthy Product Declaration Collaborative.

Read the full essay below:


The number of times you and your fellow American citizens have confidently declared these words at the dawn of a new year are innumerable:

“This year, I will prioritize my health.”

“This year I will eat nutritious foods that are good for my body.”

In reality it is irrelevant whether or not people follow through with their intentions. Why, you might ask? The firmly rooted priority within our resolutions is human health, most often sought through exercise and improved nutrition. Our resolutions do not take into consideration a larger issue — material safety and quality in our built environment. Why not declare that we will furnish our homes with flame-retardant free furniture? Or that we will choose VOC-free paint, eliminate vinyl flooring, wall and window coverings from our homes and acknowledge that a manufacturer’s unbeatable prices for their furniture are saturated with formaldehyde?

Chances are that, regardless of education or socio-economic status, the individual declaring a movement towards better health has no idea that the built environment is affecting their health at an equal if not greater rate than the foods they consume. We spend an average of three hours per day consuming food. Our organs digest and absorb the nutrients (or lack thereof) embedded within each meal. We spend twenty four hours per day in or near a constructed environment and our skin — the most porous organ in the human body — is actively absorbing the chemical composition of every material we encounter. Unfortunately, the rates with which we experience the effects of vinyl flooring or high-gloss paint amplify gradually over long periods of time, whereas a rapidly increasing waistline is tough to ignore. There are a variety of efforts that can be taken in the fight against toxic environments. The manufacturer, consumer and designer all have the power to shift society’s attitude towards holistic health. I will examine this challenge from the role of an interior designer, presenting a cross-examination of the challenges inherent in selecting both nutritious foods and safe furnishings. After all, we are both what we eat and what we specify.

In an attempt to simplify an inherently complicated subject, I will examine the lifecycle of two common items: an apple and household paint. We are likely to come in contact with both of these items on a regular basis and upon first glance, neither suggest a threat to the human body. Although the lifecycle of each varies considerably, there are commonalities in the production and purchasing process of both. The common folk phrase “an apple a day keeps the doctor away,” is widely disseminated, and largely believed to be true. A quick web search on “how to freshen up a room” will reveal a similarly innumerable and trusted list of paint colors and topical applications with which to do so. Taken at face value, both assumptions are incredibly misleading.

PRODUCTION
The apple harvesting season in New York State runs a brief sixty days (roughly through September and October)1. How is it, then, that we can enjoy this health enhancing fruit whenever our hearts desire, three-hundred and sixty-five days a year? The answer lies in Controlled Atmospheric Storage. Apples are stored in sealed rooms where oxygen is reduced by an infusion of nitrogen gas, from approximately 21% (the level in the air we breathe) down to 1-2%. Temperatures are kept at a constant 32-36ºF. Humidity is maintained at 95% and CO2 levels are carefully controlled.2 Sounds harmless, right? As an independent process, yes. However, the mixture of nitrogen with The US’s most commonly used pesticide is concerning.

The US Department of Agriculture (USDA) found that 80% of the apples sold in the United States are coated with diphenylamine, or DPA.3 DPA keeps your prized honeycrisp its picture-perfect pink after months of cold storage. Sorry, you didn’t think that was a miracle of Mother Nature, did you? DPA was banned by the European Union in 2012 which should be more than enough impetus for the USDA to reevaluate the 0.42 parts per million (ppm) — 0.32ppm higher than the allowable concentration — present in the 10 pounds of apples consumed yearly by the average health conscious citizen.

The hazmat suit at the dinner table is starting to sound like a pretty good idea.

Paint production will inherently involve a more extensive list of ten-syllable words than a honeycrisp apple. However, not all of them are toxic (just most of them). Paint is composed of colored pigment, resin, a solvent and additives. Naturally-occurring pigments are readily available in minerals, insects and botanics that can be harvested to color textiles and paint. Reducing a negative health impact is possible through the use of a limited color selection using natural pigments. To achieve a palette of 16 million color varieties, Pantone employs a complicated and potentially toxic chemical recipe. For example, the “King’s Yellow 39” feature wall you are dreaming of contains high levels of arsenic, and the “Cinnabar Red” master bedroom will introduce mercury into your after-hours routine.4 Producing a standard batch of paint involves an industrial blending process combining water, titanium dioxide (TiO2), resin and calcium carbonate (CaCO3).5 TiO2 is an occupational carcinogen that may cause cancer with prolonged exposure. Paint manufacturers adhere to strict health and safety protocols involving industrial fans for proper ventilation and respiratory masks to ensure none of the toxic chemicals present are inhaled during production. The average consumer’s ventilation protocol is likely much less thorough. Reassuring your client that a coat of paint will freshen up any room seems to lose its validity when the resultant disclaimer includes sporting a hazmat suit prior to enjoying the addition of Pantone 7523 C to the dining room — food for thought…

dieter_img_1a

Figure 1. Pharos results for ECOS Interior Atmosphere Purifying Paint

PURCHASE
Purchasing power is fueled by the informed consumer. An overwhelming array of products are available for the choosing and it is the responsibility of the consumer to use the tools available to them to make an informed decision. This is easier said than done. In the case of an apple, the option to purchase standard or organic produce is likely top of mind. The standard produce is cheaper, but the addition of pesticides is guaranteed. Organic produce may cost more, but in order to be certified as USDA Organic, farmers must produce a history of substances used in the last three years, pay numerous certification fees, pass crop and produce inspections and reapply for certification annually.6 Although soil leeching, acid rain and crop cross-contamination can dampen the accuracy of the USDA Organic label, the use of a single third-party certified governing body provides the consumer a high level of confidence.

Unfortunately, the same standard of information does not exist among the plethora of paint colors available at Home Depot. Food products are required to display both an ingredients list and nutritional information chart. Manufacturers of building materials are not required to disclose any of the ingredients in their products. The building material equivalent to a food products ingredient list is a Material Safety Data Sheet (MSDS). The MSDS must be made available upon request; however, the level of accuracy with which these sheets are filled renders the information nearly useless. A manufacturer can wash their hands of any obligation to provide complete product disclosure with a simple “proprietary information” statement. When you are fortunate enough to find a MSDS online, the majority of chemical ingredients are listed as complying with an outdated standard followed by an indecipherable numerical indicator. In an ideal world, the name and packing of a product would be informative enough for you to make an educated decision that is in line with your priorities. For example, ECOS Interior Atmosphere Purifying Paint sounds too good to be true. You mean I can freshen up the aesthetics and air in my living room simultaneously? Hardly. To aid in unlocking the proprietary secrets of our built environment, the highly trained team at Pharos has created an extensive database of both building products and chemicals. A single search can reveal a detailed contents list, hazard summary, lifecycle research and additional documents directly sourced from the manufacturer. Our too-good-to-be-true ECOS Interior Atmosphere Purifying Paint proved to do quite the opposite (Figure 1). The paint is composed with 20% TiO2 and 25.1% Oleic Acid, a compound on the German FEA Restricted Hazards List. The remaining ingredients are associated with gene mutation, developmental toxins, respiratory, eye and skin irritation, and persistent bio-accumulative toxins that will not break down once released back into the environment. The hazmat suit at the dinner table is starting to sound like a pretty good idea.

MOVING FORWARD
So with all of this information, where does the future of not only our good intentions but the health and wellbeing of society at large stand? First and foremost, there is no gain in sugar-coating the seriousness and complexity of this issue. We are facing an epidemic of rapidly decreasing societal health that cannot be taken lightly. Fortunately, the USDA is working in our favor when selecting the foods we put in our body. Who is on our side when determining the fate of the occupants within buildings? There is potential for change at every step of the design process. Manufacturer transparency will establish trust and drive highly toxic products out of production. Designers can implement a zero-tolerance policy for the use of chemical-laden materials into designs. Contractors can verify that all products entering a job site are supporting the health of future occupants. We have the creative capability to innovate in both the specification and design of material systems that are not harmful to the human beings at the core of our work. If the design is lethal, aesthetics are irrelevant. Unless designers everywhere are interested in introducing an occupant waiver form into their design brief, it is of the utmost importance that we do the research, specify accordingly and educate.

TIPS

  • Look to reputable designers who are creating incredible spaces that are not harmful to the environment. You don’t need to re-invent the wheel; you just need to refine the options available when you spin.
    Select no VOC paints in a color palette derived closely from what nature does well already. This doesn’t translate into a granola infused interior, but the vibrant neon-blue is likely out.
    Innovate in material applications. Introduce plaster onto vertical surfaces, experiment with textiles for acoustic barriers and engage in the versatility of simple materials.
    Use solid wood furniture and water-based paints and stains.
    Look to trusted third-party certifiers like Green Guard, Pharos, The Forest Stewardship Council and LEED. Mandate that manufactures provide you with both MSDS and Healthy Product Declaration Act (HPD) information. If the manufacturer doesn’t know what an MSDS or HPD is, educate accordingly.
    Avoid products with brominated flame retardants, phthalates, harsh sealants and polyvinylchloride.

Finally, sleep soundly knowing your careful consideration in specifying materials and finishings is not only shifting the market towards the production of healthy building materials but is protecting the health and wellbeing of everyone.

LINDSEY DIETER

NOTES

1 : NEW YORK HARVEST, accessed January 2015, http://www.pickyourown.org/NYharvestcalendar.htm.
2 : Rackley, 35 – 40.
3 : APPLE CHEMICAL COMPOSITION, accessed January 2014, http://rt.com/usa/154676-us-appkes-chemical-ban/.
4 : Smulders, et al., 47
5 : PHAROS Project. http://www.pharosproject.net.
6 : USDA, accessed January 2015, http://www.usda.gov/wps/portal/usda/welcome.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Smulders, S., K. Luyts, G. Brabants, L. Golanski, J. Martens, J. Vanoirbeek, PH Hoet, “Toxicity of nanoparticles embedded in paints compared to pristine nanoparticles, in vitro study.” Elsevier Ireland Ltd 2014.
Richard Jones, “Soft Machines.” Oxford University Press, 2004.
Rackley, Stephen A., Carbon Capture and Storage. Boston : Butterworth-Heinemann/Elsevier, 2010.

PLATES

Figure 1: ECOS Interior Atmosphere Purifying Paint, https://www.pharosproject.net/

 

Hand in the Machine

T

he scope of architects’ responsibilities is drifting toward a state of ambiguity, while a coherent generational style remains undefined (branding, design-build? sustainability? parametrics?). Despite expanding boundaries, one component of contemporary design has become indisputable — the influence of the computer. Beginning with the development of early CAD technology in the 1960s, computer influence on architecture has advanced to a state of near-necessity. The forms, fabrication, and construction of the modern material world would indeed be inconceivable without software input. Within this machine dependence lies an inherent problem addressed by the sociologist Richard Sennett in his book The Craftsman. He writes, “The smart machine can separate human mental understanding from repetitive, instructive, hands-on learning. When this occurs, conceptual human powers suffer.” 1 However, as he presents his research throughout the book, Sennett articulates a theory defining the latent role craft plays in the digital age, and it is through this lens that I will consider the relationship between modern craftsmanship and computer technology.

Craft is defined primarily as an occupation or trade requiring manual dexterity or artistic
skill, but also describes an ability to plan, make, or execute. As we have moved from the analogue to a predominantly digital platform, it is relevant to consider these two explanations on their own merit. I would posit that the term “craft” has undergone a shift in identity, from an association with manual dexterity towards “planning” and “making.” For Sennett, creation by and finesse with the hands informs and improves the mind. He cites examples ranging from Linux programmers to masons, but it is the former that proves most compelling when considering craftsmanship in contemporary architecture. A carpenter honing his abilities through hours of practice demonstrates occupation-oriented craft, or a specialized skill-set centered on the hand-mind relationship. But skill, as Sennett explains, is the repetition of an action enabling self-criticism.2 The Linux technicians who donate their time to improve an open source network have refined an ability to command operations through repetition. Furthermore, they have resolved to improve upon a free system through group participation. Emphasis is placed on achieving quality, rather than profits, “the craftsman’s primordial mark of identity.” 3

rendering of the Broad museum in LA and the built museum in LA by  Diller, Scofidio + Renfro

The Broad Museum, designed by Diller, Scofidio+Renfro, shown as a rendering and in its realized form. Has scripted generation, in this example, lived up to its expectations of an “innovative veil”?

Delving back through the history of architecture, consider the disparity in construction of two homes built during the 1920’s, the first in Prague, the second in Vienna. One was designed by Adolf Loos, the other by philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein. Wittgenstein attempted to erect a “perfect building” based on the precedents of all former and all possible buildings.4 Loos, meanwhile, built the Villa Muller on his ethos of new objectivity, or maintaining honesty in a structure that shows clearly the intention and actual construction in its form.5 The result of Wittgenstein’s approach was a building that lacked “primordial life”, he self-critiqued; his attempt at perfection foiled by the mere undertaking of such a monumental task. Loos’ sense of honesty—in site, context, and program—produced a building more complete in its architecture and more sympathetic to its inhabitant.

This example provides an interesting segue into the digitally derived manifestations of contemporary architecture, specifically those employing scripts. Sennett rails against the common misuse of machinery when it deprives humans from learning through the repetitive process. It is a relevant critique with consideration to parametric programs like Grasshopper. Though the knowledge to wield this potent software is rigorous, the actual output can at times generate evocative but dishonest forms. Utilizing the technology as a means for developing details or patterns, for example, is valuable, but if used as a means for wholesale generation of conceptual or massing strategies it is irresponsible. It strips architects of the quality held most sacred to the profession: an intimate understanding of the product being constructed. Sennett writes,

“Modern computer programs can indeed learn from their experience in an expanding fashion. The problem…is that people may let the machines do this learning, the person serving as a passive witness to and consumer of expanding competence, not participating in it.” 6

Material knowledge has also been affected by advances in computer technology. There is at once a nuanced experimentation that provides opportunity for material development and application, this being a positive, albeit recent resultant. However, computers have the ability to separate the craftsman from the detail. The quality of design from Carlos Scarpa, for example, who relied on the knowledge of local tradesmen to develop a more complete architecture, is lost when the head and the hand diverge. The danger with digital dependence is the tendency toward a lack of material specificity while the rapid advance of CAD/BIM software, like Revit, may have pulled architectural representation ever farther from its resultant.

ICD/ITKE Research Pavilion

ICD/ITKE Research Pavilion

 

This is not to say, however, that the digital age has demolished the frameworks of the field of architecture. Quite the contrary. The above examples highlight the negative potentials of computerization, but when operated in capable hands, digital means provide a tool to aid not only in the conceptualization of complex form, but also in fabrication processes that enable realization. Therein lies the nature of craft itself: that of planning, making, and executing. On the effects of computational architecture, Alan Penn, Dean of the Barlett-UCL, writes,

“it brings the potential to put the designer once again in direct control of the craft of material shaping and construction, something unseen since the medieval craftsman masterbuilder gave way to the divisions of labour that characterize the modern industry.” 7

Material manipulation by use of digital instruments coupled with an intimate understanding of the tools with which to investigate operational possibilities is the embodiment of the modern architectural craftsman, and, arguably, the craftsman at large. Where at points throughout the last century craft was ostracized in favor of manufactured, off-the-shelf components (outliers notwithstanding), technology has allowed it to be reincorporated into contemporary architecture through an increased understanding of new machinery coupled with new software. This marriage provides the platform from which architects can relocate themselves within the design and construction industries, back at the heart of the process. 8

From projects exhibited at a peer-reviewed conference held at the Bartlett School of Architecture in 2011 titled FABRICATE, I have selected several projects that exemplify a dedication to craft in computational design, each emblematic of a point from my argument above. From academia to professional practice, these examples highlight the prowess of technology when deployed under the pretense of a craftsman’s approach.

The first comes from the Institute for Computational Design at Stuttgart University. As a temporary structure, Research Pavilion ICD/ITKE is “based on an understanding of form, material, and structure not as separate elements, but rather as complex interrelations embedded in and explored though integral processes of computational design.” 9 Exploiting an unforeseen moment discovered during the process of material testing, the designers exploited the limitations of their industrial robotic fabricator, and maximized the physical behavior and material characteristics of 6.5mm-thin birch plywood strips in the computational generation of form, in this case basing the entire structure on the elastic bending capacity of plywood, alternating compressive and tensioned moments along the length of the robotically manufactured individual strips.

William O'Brien for Aesop

Details of routed moulding design at Aesop Newbury Street

 

There is a celebration in this project both of the command over tools with which to create structure, and the conceptualization of material deformation. Craftsmanship, in this case, lies in avoiding perfection during the design phase, where, as Sennett writes in his description of the Villa Muller, the designer allows the tool to display its intention.10 The ICD’s computational fluency allowed the tools to dictate output, but their comprehension (albeit, partially through computer 3-D scanning technology) and exploitation of their material discovery distanced them from the CAD-reliant examples Sennett cites in his book.

The second example derives from a conversation held between the architect Mathias Kohler and the structural engineer Hanif Kara, wherein the singularity – or combining of design disciplines into a single entity – was considered. Put more simply, can the magnitude and breadth of computer technology skip certain trades entirely, to the point of extinction? Mouldings, for instance, that once required hand skill but can now be accomplished through CADCAM routing. According to Kohler, digital fabrication has provided designers with the means to personally interface with the manufacturing of their architecture. Prior to this relationship, construction existed on a 2-D, conceptual level, where the drawn detail is merely a suggestion that must be interpreted by a subcontractor, reproduced through shop drawings, and executed by a builder. With digital fabrication, the drill bit and a sheet material become the means to provide a finalized product. “This explicit connection between design and making leads to the renegotiation of the different roles of the participants, both in the design and planning process of architecture, as well as the building and construction process,” explains Kohler.11 Pressed on whether the rapid advance of architects’ “explicit knowledge” indeed signals the demise of the consultant, he momentarily backpedals.
“I don’t believe that the architect should be overruling the experts, the contractors or the craftsmen working with the material on a day-to-day basis. I believe in new modes of collaboration.” 12 He asserts that increasing amounts of information will originate from the architect, and that this information will be transcribed directly to a machine that will in turn produce design.

Based in the essential logic presented in the aforementioned projects, MIT professor Skylar Tibbits is proposing a wholly new form of next generational thinking. Logic Matter, as he calls it, is a paradigm shift in the assembly process of our built environment, where the individual material parts required to construct a complex structure are embedded with blueprints to self-guide the successful construction of said form. Conceived with the knowledge that the translation of design from hand to screen to fabricator to material to machine is imbued with flaws, Tibbits is interested in a self-assemblage that resembles the natural processes of our bodies. He describes Logic Matter as a compositional series of

“physical building blocks that demonstrate digital logic and computation by passively connecting brick-to-brick (i.e. no electronics, only geometry performs the computation). These building blocks can encode assembly information and guide the user in successfully and quickly building any complex structure.” 13

Logic Matter’s ambition extend beyond mere craft. It defines innovation. It strives to think beyond what is available to the architect in current practice and invents a means to revolutionize the industry.

To conclude, it can be logically deduced that the architect will be forced to initiate the type of technological departure Tibbits has conceived in order to realize the scope of their conceptual work. Though this has been the case in previous generations, contemporary demand for revolutionary technology is far outpacing the industry. This evolution must advance in unison with a material catalogue.

Craft, therefore, must remain in the collective architectural conscious. To be computationally innovative requires knowledge of and willingness to adapt to the stresses and language that each medium dictates. As Sennett wrote in The Craftsman, “computer-assisted design might serve as an emblem of a large challenge faced by modern society: how to think like craftsmen in making good use of technology.” 14 A challenge? Yes, but more so an opportunity to facilitate the composure of a new architecture.

ALEX STEWART


NOTES

1 : Sennett, p. 29
2 : Sennett, p. 37
3 : Sennett, p.25
4 : Sennett, p. 255
5 : Sennett, p. 255
6 : Sennett, p. 41
7 : Glynn, p. 15
8 : Glynn, p. 21
9 : Glynn, p. 22
10 : Glynn, p. 24
11 : Glynn, p.117
12 : Glynn, p. 117
13 : Glynn, p. 51


BIBLIOGRAPHY

Glynn, Ruairi and Sheil, Bob. Fabricate: Making Digital Architecture. Autodesk, Riverside Press. 2011.

Sennett, Richard. The Craftsman. Yale University Press. New Haven and London. 2008.


PLATES

Fig. 1: Photograph by Gary Leonard. Diller, Scofidio + Renfro, The Broad Museum. From: http://archinect.com/news/gallery/117439302/0/is-the-broad-museum-s-newly-unveiled-facade-living-up-to-its-renderings (accessed February 23, 2015).

Fig. 2: Diller, Scofidio + Renfro, The Broad Museum. From: http://www.thebroad.org/building/renderings (accessed February 23, 2015).

Fig. 3, 4, & 5: Institute for Computational Design, Institute of Building Structures and Structural Design, ICD/ITKE Pavilion. From: http://www.oliverdavidkrieg.com/?page_id=123
(accessed February 23, 2015).

Fig. 6 & 7: William O’Brian, Jr. Routed mouldings for Aesop Newbury Street. From: http://aarome.org/news/features/william-o-brien-jr-pursues-a-refreshed-criticality-toward-contemporary-architectural-form (accessed February 23, 2015).

Fig. 8: William O’Brian, Jr. Routed mouldings for Aesop Newbury Street. From: http://www.dezeen.com/2012/11/12/aesop-boston-by-william-obrien-jr/ (accessed February 23, 2015).

Fig. 9: Logic Matter, Self-Assembly Lab. From: http://www.selfassemblylab.net/img/MIT_LOGICMATTER/Programming_the_Units_2_cropped_small.jpg (accessed February 23, 2015).

The Poetics of Pragmatism

O

n Hester Street, just east of Bowery in Manhattan’s Chinatown, sits a tiny pocket of commercial space occupied by a Taiwanese boba tea shop. Under 200 square feet in all, it is a study in organizational efficiency. Industrial refrigerators coexist happily with an immaculate food prep counter, sizeable steaming and brewing equipment, ice coolers, blenders, mechanized shakers, tea canisters, and a mechanical cup-sealing device imported straight from Taiwan. The entire array is tightly packed against both walls immediately behind the register, making room for a modest amount of customer seating that feels snugly arranged, but by no means cramped. Thanks to careful spatial arrangement and consideration of client use, the overall atmosphere is one of clean, friendly industry rather than hectic clutter – no small feat on the part of the young Taiwanese couple who opened the tea shop in 2009. Given that the couple staffs the shop themselves for up to eleven hours daily, seven days a week, their original commute to and from Sunset Park in Brooklyn proved logistically untenable despite the lower housing prices available there. When an opportunity arose last year to rent a small apartment immediately above the shop, the move made perfect sense in light of their lived philosophy of spatial efficiency; the tea shop owners now count themselves among the ranks of those who throughout history and across cultures have discovered the pragmatism of the live-work archetype.
fig1.1 teado

The wise Carl Linnaeus said in 1751 that “if you do not know the name of things, the knowledge of them is lost too.” Unfortunately, the workhome has only just begun to enjoy classification and study, for though these dual-use spaces have existed as long as human civilization, the term “workhome” was coined only recently. The Oxford Dictionary offers glib one-liners to describe factories, offices, and studios, daring even to reduce to a sentence fragment the nuanced concept of home — yet the simultaneity of dwelling and worksite has long eluded similar classification. Existing typologies have proven inadequate: the OED’s closest attempt is a nod to the Western archetype which achieved popularity through New York City artists studios cropping up in the 1970s: “live-work [adj] : denoting or relating to property that combines residential living space with commercial or manufacturing space.

work home: brushmaking

hairbrush-maker working at home

While concise, this fails to address the storied past and varied nature of the workhome; furthermore, by this definition it remains unclear whether the commercial or residential functions take priority, or even whether such hierarchy in program is significant. Can it be said that Foxconn’s Chinese workers, residing in tightly-packed compounds built on the same property as the manufacturing plants in which they labor, share a live-work typology with the young Walt Disney, whose early work took place in his first studio, set up in a shed immediately behind his house? The gross dissimilarity between these two situations, anchored in questions of privilege and choice, is obvious; yet by the OED definition they may as well be identical.

Frances Holliss, an architect and theorist who has authored a few of the most thorough studies on workhomes to date, notes that while numerous architectural typologies have been developed by the likes of J. N. L. Durand, Louis Kahn and Johann F. Geist, these systems fail to acknowledge dual-use buildings.

butchers shop

butchers shop

She points out that these “tend to be classified according to their dominant function, their dual use often ignored or missed as a result. But the dual function is one of the central characteristics of these buildings; to investigate this effectively, they need to be considered together, as a group… Therein lies the danger of allowing these spaces to settle into whichever existing archetype seems to fit: the multiplicity of the workhome points to the human, social, and economic complexities that have given it rise again and again.”

To lose any workhome to either ‘work’ or ‘home’ would be to neglect its potential commentary on human activity and the complex relationship between professional identity, the individual, and domesticity. Certainly, while weavers’ houses of the Industrial Revolution, early tenement industry in New York, top-shops of craft-workers in 18th-century England, and artist’s studios are all well-documented, together they seem to have eluded special categorization until recently, leading to their being studied as emblematic of the industry rather than domesticity of their era — or vice versa.

To blame, at least in part, is the reality that, prior to the Industrial Revolution, most residences were effectively workhomes. Entire fiefdoms — medieval gentry and their servants, farmers, smiths, craftsmen, vicars – all lived proximal to their work. Domestic privacy was not expected, nor indeed even suggested, in the greater part of Western society until the 19th century. For all that the concept of workhome can be easily reduced to a one-liner once we allow that a space may contain dual functions; yet the division between work and home is a relatively new phenomenon. Donna Birdwell-Pheasant and Denise Lawrence-Zuniga present in their investigation of the development of home, house, and domesticity in Europe, the following explanation:

in classical Latin “a familia referred to ‘everything and everybody under the authority of the household head,’ a definition that encompassed not only persons [kin or not] but also the economic resources necessary for their support, including their dwellings. The Greek oikos embraced the entire ‘domestic economy,’ including inhabitants as well as their material base of operations – house as well as household.

 

transorming space: photostudio and home

transorming space: photostudio and home

To address the inherent slipperiness of the division between domesticity and economy, as well as the continued ubiquity of this division in modern culture, a few researched structures of the workhome have been outlined below. Further consideration of the nature of the workhome can be built upon this structure with regards to the concepts of stimmung and kekkai, which will be elaborated upon following an agreement of definition.

In an ongoing study conducted by the Workhome Project Team at London Metropolitan University, three spatial strategies and twelve spatial arrangement patterns have been identified to represent the most common historical and modern work-live situations. The most common of these patterns are outlined here for purposes of establishing the concept of workhome in a more rigorous context:

workhome typologies A workhome typologies B workhome typologies C workhome typologies D

 

 

In each of the above arrangements, two elements come to the fore: identity and agency. For the purposes of this exploration, the work-dwelling and the workhome are considered distinct. Whereas the Foxconn worker referenced earlier has no choice but to dwell in the factory compound, reinforcing managerial control and industrial efficiency, and the crew of a ship must for the duration of their role in a journey remain on its premises, others are not forced by the nature of their work to dwell in a certain place — take for instance a psychiatrist who holds a small practice in her home office, or the Eameses who throughout their career maintained a home studio. The latter two are compelled to choose to incorporate elements of their work into the space they call home, while the former are simply compelled by social or economic forces beyond their control. So agency is identified as a crucial factor in discerning between live-work typologies; what then about identity?

Precedent for Type C  LAYER CAKE / LOFT (LIVE-ADJACENT):  Maison de Verre [Paris, France 1932] by Bernard Bivjoet and Pierre Chareau, consisting of ground floor consulting rooms for a doctor with two floors of living accommodation above.

Type C / Loft: Maison de Verre [Paris, France 1932]

Theorist Mario Praz calls the interior “a museum of the soul, an archive of its experiences; it reads in them its own history, and becomes perennially conscious of itself; the surroundings are the resonance chamber where its strings render their authentic vibration.

The root of the German word stimmung, in fact, comes from the verb stimmen, which means “to ring as a bell,” and the interior that reflects the soul of its inhabitant can be said, in the English adage, to “ring true.” Stimmung is therefore less a product of functionality than the conveyance of a particular character, and additionally involves a sense of intimacy. When the identity and agency of an individual bring about the creation of a workhome, stimmung becomes possible; it is arguably less tenable in the Taylorist factory compound or the branded, modernist office interior.

To examine this quality, stimmung, which manages to exist in both home and workhome but remains difficult to quantify, we might turn to the Japanese concept of kekkai. As explained by Shigeru Uchida, kekkai are “marginal zones … spaces that arise as passageways from A to B, which relate very closely to both A and B, yet really belong to neither.” Uchida posits further that the significance of kekkai lies in the rite of passage that sets one realm apart from the other, and the action itself creates passage between the two realms. The self, for instance, is created by the passage of existence through its own lens: in the act of perceiving its own existence, the self comes into being – or in Descartes’ immortal words, “I think, therefore I am.” The boundaries between interior and exterior, public and private, work and home, are for the most part constructs of human vocabulary and in fact bring about and establish the relationship between each of these pairs rather than simply divide them. As Uchida explains, the act of making a boundary itself frames a duality composed of a closed inner realm and an outer realm, cementing in the same moment the “sameness” of whatever lies inside while underscoring the “otherness” of all else. The interior, therefore, is an interior thanks only to its separation from the exterior – prior to the separation there was no distinction between the two. The interior finds meaning in function, specificity, and in security of privacy, but in so doing intensifies the expansive, broad, public nature of the exterior.

Type D : the Eames House

Type D / The Workbox : the Eames House

In her study of Singapore’s public housing, Lilian Chee notes that “the private realm has always been historically defined in relation to its corollary space, the public domain. In particular, the private domestic interior was established when the spaces of home and work were ideologically separated in terms of geographic distance during the early nineteenth century as offices, factories, workshops, and other sites of economic production were set up outside the family home. …The progressive distinction between male and female spheres [also] came about during this period when men went out to work as the breadwinners of the family while women remained at home to care for the children.

As we now know, the forces that were restructuring the socioeconomic landscape set in motion a cult of domesticity that went hand in hand with an obsession with privacy and the rise of consumer culture. In reaction to the standardization of paid labor and to commercial pressures, the domestic interior gradually retreated in purpose, becoming a secluded haven, inlaid with the fruits of industry and production.

Chee concludes that the term domesticity is “inherently more politicized than home because it implies a specific type of production, whether biological, material, psychological, social, or even national.

This dovetails neatly with our discussion of kekkai and the creation of passage through action. The modern workhome, having emerged after centuries of the ever-stricter division and specialization of domestic and work spaces, is defined neither by home exclusively, nor work. The domestic space can be stretched and redefined to incorporate work – indeed, many states in the U.S. are now provide tax incentives to small-scale entrepreneurs who wish to work from home – and the changing technological and hierarchical landscape of modern offices can more easily accommodate home-workers as well. Thresholds can be erected between work and home, and often should. The live-with, live-adjacent, and live- near configurations of workhome have long allowed for a variety of needs, occupations, and family typologies.

A combined design studio, residence, and photo-graphy studio

by LMS Arcitects, San Francisco CA

 

One should, however, question how else the modern workspace itself might be calibrated for flexibility, adaptability, and longevity. Rather than construct new physical spaces, it may be possible to adaptively reuse existing spaces, and to utilize alternate forms of boundary — be they psychological, visual, or ritual — to provide the requisite divisions of time and space. One might argue that the strict thresholds established by Freud in his live and work spaces, meant to isolate psychoanalysis from writing and mental impulses from consciousness, were his own constructs – personal myths – that served their purpose only because he willed them to. Much as a Japanese koshi lattice, so minimal as to visually obstruct nothing, whispers into being a distinct spatial separation — so can ritual create both passage and separation between work and home life. Therein lies the potential for poetry in the pragmatism of this age-old typology. No more the physical walls and thresholds that define one space, one facet of identity from another. These two worlds can be created, dissolved, brought in perfect harmony by a cup of coffee, by playing a certain song, or by the simple act of picking up a pen.

LEE ANNE SHAFFER


 

NOTES

i The term “workhome” is currently in use by Dr. Frances Holliss and the Workhome Project at London Metropolitan University, among others.
ii The following pattern types and descriptions have been condensed from the more extensive WORKHOME study, with additional examples provided from outside the study.


 

FIGURES

Figure 1.1 The young Taiwanese owners of Teado, hard at work in the shop beneath their apartment.
Figure 2.1 Foxconn worker dormitories. The compound houses ten million people in total.
Figure 2.2 Walt Disney’s first studio, Los Angeles, CA. est. 1923
Figure 2.3 St. Paul’s Studios, designed for gentlemen artists whose housekeepers lived in their basements, Baron’s Court, London
Figure 2.4 Tenement family making artificial flowers, est. 1890
Figure 2.5 Marcus Stone’s Workhome, Holland Park, London, 1876
Figure 3.1 Basic workhome with transformable bedroom – rendering
Figure 3.2 Basement workhome – live-adjacent – rendering
Figure 3.3 Layer-cake workhome, with business on the first two floors
Figure 3.4 Maison de Verre, Paris, France
Figure 3.5 Workbox workhome, with separate studio
Figure 3.6 Plan of Eames House, 1949


 

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Donna Birdwell-Pheasant and Denise Lawrence-Zuniga, HouseLife (Oxford and New York, Berg, 1999).
Lilian Chee, “The Public Private Interior: Constructing the Modern Domestic Interior in Singapore’s Public Housing” in The Handbook of Interior Architecture and Design, ed. Lois Weinthal and Graeme Brooker (London and New York, Bloomsbury Academic, 2013).
Edward Hollis, The Memory Palace: A Book of Lost Interiors (London, Portobello Books, 2013).
Frances Holliss, “From Longhouse to Live/Work Unit; Parallel Histories and Absent Narratives“ in Built from Below: British Architecture and the Vernacular, ed. Peter Guillery (London and New York, Routledge Press, 2011) 189-207.
Jeremy Myerson, “The Evolution Of Workspace Design: From The Machine To The Network” in The Handbook of Interior Architecture and Design, ed. Lois Weinthal and Graeme Brooker (London and New York, Bloomsbury Academic, 2013).
Shigeru Uchida, “The Bounds of Privacy,” in From Organisation to Decoration: An Interiors Reader (London and New York: Routledge Press, 2013), pp. 35-40.
Alexa Griffith Winton, “Inhabited Space: Critical Theories and the Domestic Interior,” in The Handbook of Interior Architecture and Design, ed. “Workhome Pattern Book.” WORKHOME, accessed May 9, 2014. http://www.theworkhome.com/pattern-book.

Design, Rehearsed

W

hat if the process of designing for architecture was more akin to the process of staging a play?  Though the end products of architectural design and theatrical design are quite different, each design process has much in common.  In both cases, concept development, integration of design teams, collaborative meetings and iterations of design proposals all follow a similar timeline for accomplishing the final production goals.  Staging a play, however, takes advantage of an ongoing rehearsal process where design concepts can be prototyped in the early stages of development and tested throughout the production and in every performance.  Here, both the aesthetic and experiential properties of a production are devised and rehearsed through an inclusive collaboration between designers, performers, and audience members.  Through diligent iteration, both performer and production begin to acclimate, adapt and respond to one another so that the audience can invest in a cohesive and consuming experience.

On the other hand, architecture can be quite difficult to rehearse.  Architects and designers can study existing buildings and circulation spaces to observe how people move and interact, but scale models and renderings are often the only realistic tools available to communicate a design’s intentions to the people who will eventually inhabit it.  Without a shared understanding of purpose and functionality, the dispersion between a design’s intention and its eventual use can be quite extreme.  A 2008 study by the New Buildings Institute1 reveals great discrepancies between the projected and actual energy consumption of new LEED-certified buildings.  In response to these findings, they recommend better feedback systems that will enable the design community to fully appreciate how their systems actually end up performing.  It is only reasonable to assume that a more inclusive process will not only improve a design’s functionality, but also the experience one has within it.  In response to this growing awareness, we can look to a participatory design process that can engage with the eventual audience of end-users and provide a platform for collaborative feedback.  We must rehearse the design.

Design Trust for Public Space

Architects, designers, and stakeholders collaborate on a new vision for New York’s Special Garment Center District.

 

WHAT IS PARTICIPATORY DESIGN?

In many ways, buildings are performance spaces inhabited by characters that perform roles that have been cast, in part, by the building itself.  Therefore, the designs that support these characters require a clear understanding of why they are needed and how they will be experienced.  With this in mind, design can facilitate a relationship between people and architecture that allows each to adapt to one another.  These interactions will define crucial design criteria for a system’s integration and usability.  To accomplish such a nuanced conditioning of space, all the stakeholders of a given project from the building managers to the maintenance crew should be given an opportunity to inform the process.  Not only will these tactics embed familiarity, relevance and innovation into design outcomes, but each rehearsal will generate a sense of authorship for its contributors and a working understanding for how the design operates.  Ezio Manzini describes this informed condition as an “enabling system” where “all people involved are, in different ways, agents of the solution.”2  Such a sense of contribution will build confidence, investment and, ultimately, a greater potential for success.

Snøhetta - a design firm engaging public space in a multitude of domains - describes their process of “transpositioning” as one “in which different professionals - from architects to visual artists, philosophers to sociologists - exchange roles in order to explore differing perspectives without the prejudice of convention."

Snøhetta – a design firm engaging public space in a multitude of domains – describes their process of “transpositioning” as one “in which different professionals – from architects to visual artists, philosophers to sociologists – exchange roles in order to explore differing perspectives without the prejudice of convention.”

In April of 2012, a large-scale renovation project was conducted to revitalize Poppintree Park in the town of Ballymun, Ireland.  The conceptual development (by Mitchell + Associates, Landscape Architects) went much further than public consultations and community outreach.  It actively sought to engage the community directly in the process of design.3  Architect David Andrews conducted design + build workshops with local youths who were not only asked their option, but were given an opportunity to demonstrate their expertise as the eventual park users in a hands-on manner.  Infused with local value and functional familiarity, the park went on to receive the 2012 LAMA Community and Council Award for Best Public Park4 – an indication that the park’s underlying design considerations resonated with the greater community.

IMPLICATIONS OF PARTICIPATORY DESIGN

Rehearsing a design with eventual users can generate intuitive environments that address unique, localized needs but that are capable of adapting to changing demands.  For instance, design parameters that are primarily directed by efficiency rather than use will likely result in environments that are populated entirely with automated systems, essentially depriving occupants of a tactile grasp of the mechanics.  These centralized and hidden controls tend to overlook individual preference and can create a sense of disengagement and apathy.  When we advocate for resilience, a great deal of that strategy must lie in the adaptability of each system or structure we design.  This understanding is a critical component in our capacity to design environments that truly support those who inhabit them.

Just like the communally inclusive approach that brought Poppintree Park so much success, design criteria can continue to be imagined and prototyped throughout a design process that includes the designers and architects as well as the anticipated occupants and stakeholders.  Along the way, new metrics can be established that help to assess performance and further the project’s development.  Each successive consideration of a design’s eventual use and impact will help address a wider variety of needs, avoid unintended consequences, and more fully integrate it into the surrounding context.  The design firm Snøhetta engages public space in a multitude of domains.  They describe their process of transpositioning as one “in which different professionals – from architects to visual artists, philosophers to sociologists – exchange roles in order to explore differing perspectives without the prejudice of convention.”5  Perhaps convention is the sticky issue and one that is getting more difficult to disrupt.

Poppintree Park

Poppintree Park

Architecture is a highly formalized discipline.  Consequently, its design process is unapproachable for most of the people who will benefit from it.  This campaign for a participatory process seeks to reinforce traditional practice by strategically opening the process of design to greater transparency and inclusivity.  Much like a theatrical rehearsal process, the repetitive cycle of performance, observation, reflection and refinement can help define the roles that a building or design may be required to play.  By implementing inclusive, participatory design strategies, we may begin to address the hidden complexities that arise when society’s demand for adaptive and sustainable space grapples with the longevity of the constructed environment.  Ultimately, any success will depend on how we engage with and learn from the people for whom we design.

JAMES CLOTFELTER


BIBLIOGRAPHY

1 Turner, Cathy and Frankel, Mark, “Energy Performance of LEED® for New Construction Buildings.” New Buildings Institute, Vancouver, March 4, 2008.

2 Manzini, Ezio and Tassinari, Virginia, “Sustainable qualities: powerful drivers of social change,” 2012: 6.

3 “Poppintree Youth Project – Participatory Design,” commondesigns, April 26, 2012, http://commondesigns.wordpress.com/2012/04/26/community-design-of-welcome-sign-to-ballymun/.

4 “Poppintree Park Wins 2012 LAMA Award for Best Public Park,” commondesigns, May 10, 2012, http://commondesigns.wordpress.com/2012/05/10/poppintree-park-wins-2012-lama-award-for-best-public-park/.

5 “Process,” Snohetta, accessed November 4, 2014, http://snohetta.com/process#.


PLATES

1 (Feature) http://commondesigns.wordpress.com/2012/04/26/community-design-of-welcome-sign-to-ballymun/

2 http://designtrust.org/news/making-midtown-workshop-1/photos/632/

3-4 (see 1)

5 http://snohetta.com/assets/process/transpositioning/transposotioning.jpg

The Quiet Art

Tobias Holden was late. This was his first time submitting work to the NYC Illumination Engineering Society’s Student Lighting Competition. Setup began at 8:00 a.m. and was scheduled to run the entire day, so when he showed up at 9:00 a.m., Holden believed he’d be one of the early arrivals. This was not the case.

IESNY Student Design Competition

Each year, the Illuminated Engineering Society’s New York Section hosts a student lighting design competition. While the range of submissions is vast both in scale and concept, the competition is reined in by oft-esoteric themes, ranging from “Liminal Luminosity” and “IllumiNotes” to this year’s “Light Touch.”

Holden’s submission exemplifies the theme “Light Touch” in a manner at once analogous in presentation and literal in approach. Suspended in space, the only physical body is a single sheet of cold-press watercolor paper with the pattern of Holden’s thumb engraved in positive relief. Holden chose the material expressly for its texture which, reacting to the quality of lighting cast upon it, alternately embellishes or obscures the embedded pattern.

Back in the IESNYC showroom, much of the exhibition space had been occupied by earlier arrivals, forcing Holden to hang his piece from an overhead pipe. This innovation worked in his favor by eliminating any cast-shadow effects which would have been produced against a backdrop. In the darkened showroom, the piece floated as though of its own accord, further amplifying its ephemeral qualities.

The controls system powering Holden's display.

Holden continuously returns to an approach which he refers to as “working with two brains.” He is as concerned with light fixtures and their effects (top-down) as with the effects imposed upon the lighting itself by the lit objects (top-up). This is a reciprocal relationship often neglected by traditional approaches to lighting design. Holden’s approach to design reflects a sensibility that is widely lauded yet seldom actualized: good design makes apparent the object rather than its designer. Says Holden,

“I liked the idea that lighting design is this ‘quiet art,’ that if you do it well no one acknowledges it.”

IESNY Student Design Competition

That said, his designs haven’t always tended towards the minimal and reductionist. Holden’s first concept for the project was more elaborate:

“I did lots of hands-on experimentation; I was trying to figure out what a ‘light touch’ meant to me. I thought back to some of my more technical classes, how light can change the appearance of a material or how certain fixtures generate heat inherently in their operation. My initial concept was [to use] a super-hot par-lamp – around 250W – that would give off enough heat to drive a turbine.”

The spinning turbine would in turn influence the light cast by the lamp. Unfortunately, he found that far more energy would be needed to drive the turbine than could be created by the fixture.

“But then,” Holden continues, “I thought of the really simple concept of [how] the incident angle [of light] on a surface reveals or destroys texture. …The lighting mechanics was easy…creating the texture involved lots of experimentation.”

 


BRANDON PIETRAS