Living Architecture: The Watchtower, Desert View, Grand Canyon

I recently returned from the Grand Canyon.  The highlight of the trip was our final stop eastbound as we made our way towards Sedona.  Desert View’s Watchtower, designed by Mary Colter and completed in 1933, illustrates features of a living architecture worth sharing.

First, the stone that makes up the building’s skin is native to the area.  Ms. Colter personally supervised the construction, staying on site and overseeing the placement of virtually every bit of exterior stonework.  As a result, there’s a sense of care, and in some places, whimsy, in the delightful presence of the building.

So, a picture to whet the appetite:

Watchtower at Desert View

This is a building that is truly timeless.  Were our civilization to disappear, future archaeologists would be confounded as they studied this structure because, within, the body of the tower is supported by a steel frame whereas the exterior appears to have been built by native peoples.

Information Placard

Interestingly in some areas the building appears as if it was a ruin adapted and reused for modern purposes.

Base Below the Main Tower

Living architecture embraces beauty and delights the eye, heart and soul.

Watchtower Detail

An interior photograph of the ceiling geometry using native wood and traditional framing practices.

Ceiling Detail; One Story Gift Shop Adjoining the Tower

I wish we could have spent more of the day here.  Arriving in afternoon allowed good photographs of only the west and south sides of the building.  I can report the remainder is as wonderful as what you see here.

In summary, creating a Living Architecture responds to the site, uses native materials, creates beauty and enlivens the spirit.  The preceding list is by no means inclusive, but only a starting point for a long and, hopefully, interesting trip.

Living Architecture (A working title)

This is a work in progress, and ground breaking efforts are ongoing.  We intend to highlight examples going forward.

The Living Building Challenge offered by the International Living Future Institute is a brilliant and ambitious guide (https://ilbi.org/lbc/standard).  My colleagues and I want to push further though, seeking not only to honor nature, but also the imperative to bring the world of the invisible, of the heart, back into the process we use to create human habitat.  We need to relearn how to create our built environment in harmony with nature, much like indigenous peoples the world over.  Science and spread sheets will only take us so far.

In short, at the end game, there will be no standards, only accumulated traditions that give us places of immense beauty, celebrate the spirit, and restore the ecologies that sustain our lives.

And…we’ll toss in a couple of images just to please the visually oriented folks.

Arbor Chapel Plan

 

Arbor Chapel Section

Living Architecture

The next wave – coming soon.

To start us thinking, we suggest Pacific Environments Architects at http://www.pacificenvironments.co.nz/newsarticles/ so they can be credited with some really provocative work.  Several images follow, cribbed from their website.  Let’s hope legal doesn’t get after us.

Treehouse Restaurant: Exterior and Interior Views

The Indiana Historical Society: 1992-1999

Indiana Historical Society; photography by Greg Murphey. Used with permission

This paper was originally presented in Santa Fe, New Mexico in 2003

What I’m going to do is use the Society project as a vessel to tell several stories. All wisdom here was learned the hard way. As Watts Wacker notes: “Good judgment comes from experience and experience comes from bad judgment.”
I.H.S. was founded in 1830. For the first 150 years of their existence they were small, bookish, and introverted. But they always drew the interest of community leaders in government and business. The Society, in its simplest form, is about the collection and preservation of historical material, primarily written. This material is made available to scholars and members through the library. The Library may be considered the heart of the institution.
In 1976 the State of Indiana added 30,000 square feet to the old State Library. The Society got 2/3 of the new building. This gave the Society the chance to begin expansion of their archives and so they did…but their new home would reveal serious shortcomings.
The Big break came in 1978 when Eli Lilly bequeathed $13 million in Lilly stock to the institution. By 1992, the Society had grown the $13 million to $80 million and had completely outgrown their existing home. They began to dream of building a new headquarters, a place uniquely their own. To their credit, the Society created a bold vision. In fact, this vision sustained the effort as it rallied the leadership and staff to the dream of a world-class institution.
We were retained in 1992 to design their new headquarters. Our design partner in crime was The Stubbins Associates of Cambridge, Massachusetts. Here’s my first secret: a well-trained architect can design anything. The “experience effect” as I call it is somewhat like airport security; it gives the impression that you are in the best of hands, but it’s nearly meaningless. I believe the reality is that previous experience gives the owner the chance to avoid the most heinous mistakes possible with a neophyte. Of course, there is no substitute for quality design process. The finest talent in the world won’t save an owner from a lousy building resulting from poor process. I was the local contact that got our foot in the door, but we frankly did not have the “experience effect” to do the work in the eyes of the Owner. What to do. What we chose was to use a contact existing within the firm to team with Stubbins. TSA had very good credentials in library design. We leveraged Stubbins’ strength in design and their experience coupled to the local team.
The actual design effort did not start until 1995, but in the meantime we had to complete a program for the building and work out the final site for the structure. The site was provided free of charge by the State of Indiana. In fact, multiple sites were offered which confused the process of making a choice. Finally in 1995, the site was generally agreed to and we were asked to test the program in terms of a very preliminary schematic on the site. The main question was: Will it fit?
Ron Ostberg of Stubbins was my counterpart in the design process. He led the effort from Schematics through Design Development. I led the team from the start of construction documents through completion of the building in July of 1999.

Here’s the way the project looked in terms of general outline in 1995. The core group consisted of the Owner as represented by a staff of approximately 60, many of whom were PhD’s, administrative leadership, Building Committee and Board of Trustees. Our design team consisted of our local firm, Stubbins, an outside MEP consultant, a construction manager and what would total 13 separate consultants including security, exhibits, code, food service, retail, archival storage, document peer review, data/information, acoustics, darkroom, graphics and two lighting consultants. The building was to be delivered on what we came to call a “Soft Fast Track” schedule.
In the fall of 1995, Ron presented a preliminary study of the building. It was asymmetric with an enclosed rectangular courtyard facing south toward Ohio Street. Lovely. The site was one half a city block approximately 200’ x 400’ with the long side facing Ohio Street. Ron illustrated that the building would fit on site with the program in hand, concluding we had a “go” for this particular site. Something unexpected happened though. The Society immediately and forcefully responded to the massing model. They hated it. They didn’t hate it a little. They hated it a lot. Speeches were made. It was a wonder it wasn’t destroyed and the earth salted then and there.
We understood. Ron went back to Cambridge and returned with a symmetrical design. The response was immediate and enthusiastic: speeches were made praising the brilliance of the designer. We were all but carried out of the room on the shoulders of our happy owner. Ultimately this general concept was followed through to completion in the final building. Looking back, the Society demanded a design solution that responded to their identity. The context of the Institution had to be respected or we weren’t going to get anywhere. We chose to proceed with a classically inspired vocabulary. I’m pretty sure Rem Koolhaus would hate it, but in this context fortunately he doesn’t count.
Now we were also embroiled in the negotiations for the contract. The Society informed us they had decided the building would cost $10 million including $1 million in design fees. Ok. Now in the meantime we had completed a program for the building with the input of the entire staff and leadership of the institution. We were about to get a rude awakening. We took the program and translated it into space, then made a preliminary run at a design for the building. In the meantime, our construction manager was following along with preliminary schematic estimating. We completed the schematics and dutifully forwarded them to the CM. The estimate came back at $25 million. We had a problem. Suddenly we were 150% over budget. The question we had to answer was how to negotiate the treacherous waters ahead.
Here’s what we realized: We had three entities operating in different worlds. First there was the Board of Trustees and their designates, the Building Committee. They set the original budget, but they had no idea of what that number should be. So what did they do?? They guessed. The important event was that the intention to create a building was manifest. Other than that the data was no good. The second entity was the leadership of the institution. These folks are the interface between the stewards of the Society (Board of Trustees) and the staff. They were in the same boat as the Trustees. How much should we budget for a new building? Who knows? $10 million sounds good. Lastly we have the staff. Here is where the knowledge of the scope truly resides. They have no connection per se to the budgetary side of the equation, but they do know exactly what they would like for space, equipment and technology. We did the translation, then the construction manager ran the numbers. Ka boom.
We were in the classic position of the messenger. Our termination stood every chance of being lethal and quick. What we chose to do was illustrate the systemic problem for the owner. This explained the discrepancy. It also separated us from any cycle of blame. Then we asked them to give us direction as to what they wanted to do. They were in an enviable position: they had the money to choose wisely and they did. The answer was: Proceed with the design and continue to work with the construction manager to control the cost to the greatest extent possible.
At this point we transitioned from Schematics to Design Development. The detail of the building steadily increased. Here I should take a minor detour to give you a sense of the building itself. The main floor level consists of largely public spaces: the Great Hall, the Canal Courtyard, Bookstore, Exhibit Gallery and support spaces (dock, processing areas, shop and so on). The second level includes the Library, Collections Processing and the Conservation Laboratory. The third is Offices on the east and west and Archives in the center. The fourth floor consists of Offices on east and west, Boardroom Suite and Archives in the center. The basement includes Mechanical space, digital and traditional darkrooms, Talking Books, Storage, Classrooms, Microfilm, Kitchen and the Lower Canal Courtyard level. The final size was about 178,000 gross square feet. We had much to learn and complex uses to fit together. A question emerged: How do we gather the data we need to create a great facility first time out of the box? Bear in mind that the Society as such had never created a building of any kind. As a matter of fact, we really weren’t designing just a library any more, so the “experience effect” was moot by this point. Architects and our ilk were effectively landed from Mars. Our world and the Owner’s were vastly different in how we communicated our message. The Society’s world was the spoken and written word, as most of us are. As designers we added the language of graphics with the special twist of illustrations in two dimensions whose intent was to suggest a three dimensional artifact.

What we determined to do was travel to other institutions and learn as much as possible. This we did. Here’s a list of the places we visited:
-Archives II, Washington, D.C.
-Iowa Historical Society, Des Moines, Iowa
-Minnesota History Center, Minneapolis, Minnesota
-Crerar Library, University of Chicago
-Colonial Williamsburg, Williamsburg, Virginia
-Virginia Historical Society, Richmond, Virginia
-Chicago Historical Society, Chicago, Illinois

Each trip offered lessons for us. We spoke with staff and leadership with access to nearly any area of the facilities we visited. We got the full dose: iconography, fund raising, administration, archival procedures, accessibility, maintenance, events, you name it. The other benefit was that we could make reference to some notion of the new building by harking back to someplace we had visited. We also saw things we didn’t like and determined that these mistakes would not occur in our work.
Meanwhile the detail in the documents slowly increased and we approached the release of the first bid package for site demolition and civil work. The official groundbreaking was July 13, 1996. Dignitaries spoke. Children waved banners. It was 95 degrees. The gravel on the site was so hot you could cook bacon. Even the weeds drooped. It was great. Now the work began in earnest.
One of the themes that emerged from the traveling research was the idea of storytelling as a means to facilitate the design process. Stories were written by many on the staff, some rich and moving. We began to get a sense of the building in time; to think of it in nearly the ecclesiastical tradition. The building began to take shape for us (the designers) in imagination. We realized the owner would have the chance to evolve and richen the architecture for decades, perhaps centuries to come. Since the institution collected artifacts (sculpture, paintings and so on), sometimes through estates and other times by the donation of benefactors or luminaries, the question became how to accommodate this material in the building. Also, within the evolving design we realized there were opportunities for creativity as well. Here are some examples of what we provided in the architecture:

-Niches in various public spaces for artwork.
-“Bywater” spaces for temporary exhibit facsimile material in connecting spaces.
-Knowledge embedded in the architecture: the building becomes an educational tool in and of itself.
-Surfaces in multistory spaces for permanent quotes.
-Places for sitting, conversation or contemplation
-Transformation of windows in public spaces to themed art glass at southern exposures in the Great Hall.
-Retrofit of the laylights over the Great Hall to art glass.

At this point in the design process we now have three things going on simultaneously: construction on site, the design effort and preparation of technical documents for coming bid packages to keep the construction manager “fed”. Regularly as the building took shape in drawings we met with the Building Committee to report on our progress. Each time there was more information; data, drawings, graphics. We found we had a problem: Many on the Building Committee had no clue how to read plans and elevations. Sometimes they even had trouble with perspectives. We did have three people on the committee who were experienced with architecture and they assisted in translation occasionally, but more often than not their peers would look to the architect or facilities manager on the committee with raised eyebrows for a nod of assent or a brief speech would be made praising or panning a new idea. At that point whatever we had in mind was either approved or doomed.
During Design Development Ron Ostberg took an approach that I thought was fascinating and dangerous. I have never been able to ascertain to my satisfaction whether this was conscious or not. Effectively what he did was take the building to its “logical” conclusion. We moved through design development intent on making the architecture beautiful using the finest, most durable materials, and state of the art in terms of every system and technology available at the time. Stubbins work on DD was done in June of 1996 and promptly forwarded for estimating. Of course, our construction manager was clucking over us, worried about the budget. The big event was completion of the design development estimate for the building. This was done on July 20, 1996. The core of the team including the Owner was all gathered in Colonial Williamsburg on a research trip. The estimate was faxed to us there. $42 million.
The chairman of the building committee indicated that this amount was too much. We had successfully passed the Society’s threshold of pain. Now the question was what would the institution allow? After some reflection we were informed that the building should cost no more than $30 million. Finally we knew what to work to. At this point we began an intense back and forth with the construction manager to find ways to reduce the cost of the building. Moving $12 million out of the bottom line seems like a near impossible task, but many features were extremely expensive and optional in the sense that the final result wasn’t necessarily diminished by want of their presence.
Our construction manager, Geupel-DeMars Hagerman was clear with us about their role in the work: They were “guardians of the budget and schedule”. But an interesting thing happened as the building moved ahead. Our construction friends became more invested in the qualitative outcome than they might admit. One story is illuminating. In the design development of the Great Hall we originally proposed use of large areas of Indiana walnut. It cost a fortune, but it was absolutely stunning. One of the recommendations of the CM was deletion of the walnut in its entirety in the Great Hall. We would use plaster instead for the primary finishes. At one point we went to a local plaster artisan’s shop and looked at mock-ups of components that would ultimately find their way into the space. We kibitzed. We agonized. Some walnut would really be nice. We suggested using walnut trim, walnut collonettes and detailing the fascias around the balcony with walnut as well. Our practical construction friends looked the situation over and agreed that adding the wood would be a definite improvement and they would figure out any cost issues going forward. They kept their word.
Technology was another lengthy discussion. In particular, the data infrastructure was a subject of much scrutiny, hand wringing and pointed questions about what the best choices were. We knew that the time from design development through substantial completion would span about 3 ½ years. This would translate into at least two generations of computer cpu, let alone what might or might not happen in cabling or wireless technology. We were stumped for some time, but decided on a practical solution. First, we would wait until the last possible minute to commit to a data infrastructure technology and second, we chose to provide ample additional capacity by simply over sizing conduit from the typical 1” diameter up to 1 ½” diameter. With the added diameter the effective area of the conduit was increased by over 100% and the additional cost was pennies in the overall scheme of things. We bought a massive amount of flexibility for a song. The Society had the opportunity to add to their existing system or make changes with a minimum of difficulty.
A third area of considerable research was how to accommodate the steady flow of artifacts into the archives over time. Within the program we had approximately 18,000 square feet of temperature and humidity controlled storage using mobile compact shelving. Our intention was to maximize the number of years before the Society was forced to find offsite storage. We agreed with the owner that we would strive to provide 20 years worth of expansion. The library staff advised us they added approximately 700 lineal feet of new material each year. In addition, there wasn’t just one type of controlled environment, but three. The first, Zone 1, was for books at 65 degrees and 50% relative humidity. The second was Zone 2 at 55 degrees and 42% relative humidity for storing glass plate negatives and photographs. Zone 3 was 0 degrees and 35% relative humidity for storing nitrate film. Then to top it all off we didn’t know what the sequence or need for the differing zones would be over time. Third floor archives were set aside for books, art and manuscripts and had room for an additional 25% growth. We had a fifth floor attic over the archives set up for fixed shelving and Zone 1 conditioning. The space is now used for storage. In addition, the first floor area now set aside for exhibit preparation was designed to allow conversion to compact shelving. Last, the westernmost portion of the basement was set up with the refurbished compact shelving from the original 1976 building and could eventually accept archival materials also. Last, the Fourth floor archives required flexibility for the Zone 2 and 3 materials and their corresponding environments, but we had no inkling whether either zone would be required in the future; only a firm maybe. We settled on a geometry that took the southern five bays and dedicated them for Zone 1 materials only. The northern five pairs of bays were each rigged with a concrete slab poured over rigid insulation with an access ramp. Rails were poured into the slabs in advance for compact shelving and a supplemental mechanical room was provided immediately on the south to create either Zone 2 or 3 environments. The result was that any of the five areas could become any Zone as needed over time.
In the autumn of 1996, we released the second bid package for the Exterior Skin, Vertical Transportation and Limestone Prepurchase. As we grew more knowledgeable of the building, the owner and the emerging pattern of the design, the realization formed that the input of particular building trades would be important voices for our consideration. We had extended dialogues with stone fabricators and tradesmen, ornamental plaster craftsmen, lighting designers/builders and skilled millwork artisans. Our research took up two primary intentions. The first was a greater understanding of how to use the technologies of these skills to aesthetic effect. The second was to be clever about how to control cost by respecting the limitations of materials and remain responsive to the nature of the work in the field. Also, certain materials, plaster for example, can create complex geometries at a number of scales. Heavy plaster and ornamental plaster were the prime components in shaping the Great Hall’s ceilings and belt course. Other materials would have worked; wood or stone for example. But either would have been prohibitively expensive.
The building was finished in July of 1999 and opened to great fanfare. There is now vibrant day to day activity including musical performances, events, weddings, tours, seminars, curious visitors, classes and, as always, scholarly research as people from all walks of life search for meaning through knowledge of the past. The Society achieved its vision: to create an open, inviting public building to enhance its visibility and accessibility to people from all walks of life.

A Modernist Jumps Ship: How I Came Back to the Future

When I graduated college I held the banner of modern architecture high. Historic buildings were the past, an outdated expression of styles from inane to flat out ugly. I would ultimately learn that my attention span in school should have been longer and my powers of observation more refined. So here’s the story.

Seven years after I graduated from Ball State, I moved to Indianapolis to work on Circle Centre Mall. This particular project became a commitment of six year’s duration. Part of the work involved the demolition, salvage and reconstruction of historic facades that make up a significant portion of the building’s skin. Part of my responsibilities included following the facade work. We prepared careful demolition drawings, identifying significant components in brick, stone and metal that were to be stored after the buildings were demolished. At the beginning let me be clear: these buildings were a mess. Tired, broken, often vacant for years if not longer. At one point I stood on a debris covered floor and heard rats beneath me. Some days could test your resolve and sanity.

One part of my work involved hours at the library of the Indiana Historical Society studying photographs of turn of the century Indianapolis. We were tasked with determining what time period the buildings were to be presented within. As I searched through hundreds of photographs I was astounded to learn how many buildings were designed, built, used, demolished, then rebuilt again, often within a span of 10 years. The young city was a busy place. There was much in the way of creative destruction.

As construction began, the old buildings came down one by one. Two were imploded. Looking back now I wish I had video as we got to watch the implosions from perfect positions out of harm’s way, but near enough to appreciate the power and mass of a large building crashing in upon itself. Out of the deep excavations on two city blocks rose the bulk of the new mall buildings. As the exterior work began, the trades went to work and the next phase of the design process was activated as well. As exterior elevations were detailed we provided specific drawings showing how to reassemble what were once headquarters for many kinds of local businesses. Some had moved to the suburbs. Some were victims of changing technology. Some just vanished.

The facades of these century old buildings offered me my first understanding of proportions drawn from nature. Yes, they imitated European styles. They were not truly an american expression, but they were a product of our culture and time, an expression of civic pride. As we watched the newly cleaned materials salvaged and reassembled, mixed with new brick and glass, what were once derelict buildings became infused with new life. The old facades were beautiful.

Circle Centre was completed in 1995. I was responsible for the construction documents on seven facades reassembled on the city block bounded by Illinois Street, Georgia on the south, Maryland on the north and Meridian Street on the east. The mall was nearly done when we visited the roof of the new cinema above the Nordstrom store to complete a punch list on the exterior. On the eastern side I could walk to the roof parapet just behind the four facades that front Meridian Street. To my utter delight, the finial (stone ornament) on top of the Jackson Street facade had been signed on top, out of view from below, by all the masons who had worked on the facades. It was a simple statement of pride and a profound moment for me as an architect.

Musings on Design

For the average person, most buildings appear quickly.  Machines arrive on a site, excavation begins, trucks with materials follow and the trades get to work.  In most cases a new home or small building is complete in a matter of months.

Prior to work on any site is a process of design.  This is my world; a place where the product is largely creative and symbolic.  Unlike the fine arts, design also has a social dimension in the interaction with clients, officials, users and community at large.

After all these years I can report decisively that if the design process is of high quality, the resulting building will be of high quality as well.  This doesn’t mean necessarily high cost, but a project that synthesizes the needs of the client and the skills of the design team.  Part of this rubric is the idea of scope, quality and cost.  Some quick definitions to explain:  scope is the size and type of building.  Quality is the choice of materials, systems, and their relative durability over time.  Cost is straightforward:  how much is in the piggy bank.

Any client may control two of the above, but not three.  The third is left in the hands of the designer.  So if an owner indicates a budget and scope, the design team adjusts the quality to match the other two criteria.  If there isn’t congruence between the three concepts, nothing happens.

Design is an iterative activity.  Or, more bluntly, we often go in a spiral that gently closes on a solution.  This demands much patience.  As we consider scope, quality and cost, it may be that the three are not fully defined and design is used to bring the three variables into the light so the owner and design team can agree on a way forward.

This is design as tool.  The only catch is that a client must be willing to pay the freight to define the problem.  Once this work is done, the project to moves ahead.  As design goes, this approach is pretty unusual as the vast majority of buildings are well understood (homes for example) and the design process proceeds in fairly linear fashion.  There are always little burps in the process, but the path from idea to reality is pretty well paved.

So, in summary, a lot goes on before construction begins.  And, high quality design emerges from high quality process.  Lastly, design is something akin to magic as it is invisible and takes shape through the interaction of many ideas and skills.

Welcome

I’ve always enjoyed writing, so this is a natural step forward and an immediate way to talk about design, work in progress and community.

I recently realized that my practice goals have changed.  For years I was focused on big, complex projects.  Just recently though my priorities have shifted.  The “big” project, while interesting, is only a tiny part of architectural work.  By far the largest share of what we do is modest work that serves the communities we live in.

So these days I think of architecture as Community* work; building, enhancing and enlivening where we live.  The simplest project is an investment in the future and deserves our best.

*the capitalization is intentional