Reading the (Interior) Landscape

In finishing up this semester, thinking about the work ahead and going over what we have covered earlier this Spring and last Fall, I'm taking a moment to look again at Peirce Lewis’ Axiom’s for Reading the Landscape.

At the time we first read the piece, I was put off by it because I felt that it seemed to discount the experiences of many people—hikers, hunters, gardeners, farmers, aviators, artists, etc. —that do read the landscape but don’t necessarily write about it.

Now I regard it in a different way, because the concept of reading the landscape is useful even if Mr. Lewis seems determined to make a hard distinction between himself and those he feels he has not yet taught how to see.

Looking to the landscape to give us information about human culture, migration of ideas, history, technology, conflict, class, and many, many subtle detailed things within these broad categories is great. I don’t know that I will carry phrases like “the axiom of landscape obscurity” around with me, but I am interested in translating the idea of reading the landscape to the interior environment, where the essential idea of careful observation seems like a cornerstone of good design practice.

Looking at existing interior spaces—renovations, historic buildings, demolished structures, FIT, anything—there are many, many things to “read”. The buildings are like stories you walk through. The materials tell things about the environment. The fixtures tell things about history or culture. The arrangement of spaces tells things about technology and economics.  Doing a survey can be much, much more than measuring and the designer can spend time reading the spaces, asking questions of them, and following up with further research.

Pearls Before Class

In reflecting on our recent trip to 41 Cooper Square, the contemporary academic building at Cooper Union, I found my mind turning to the the Washington Post Weingarten article, Pearls Before Breakfast, where wealthy, celebrated violinist Joshua Bell plays a multi-million dollar instrument in the subway while working people walk past him on their way to their jobs.

They just didn't appreciate great music!

It was exciting to have the opportunity to tour the building described by our tour guide as a vertical campus, with different disciplines stacked one on top of each other. The center of the building is a large, open, sculptural staircase intended to serve as a commons, allowing people to interact and sit.

Hmmm, a campus?

Knowing the limitations and confinements of working within FIT’s campus and feeling the “green” envy of other institutions that have more light, trees, lawns, and generally more space, I immediately wondered about the experience of the students at Cooper Union. What is it like to go to school in that building? (We were there on Good Friday, so things were quiet.)

When I was at Pratt we had a campus that had a number of different options where one could go to find a comfortable spot, or some activity, or something to eat. I wonder what kind of options these students have, particularly regarding finding a comfortable spot. Do they like to sit on the stairs? Maybe they do. I hope so!

I hope so, because legal concerns prevent them from sitting on the balcony. How sad, 115 million dollars, and there wasn’t money to think that through so that it could be designed and managed in a way that would give students access to the outdoors.

What the students have is a very impressive, sculptural environment created by Thom Mayne, a celebrated architect.

But, do they have a campus?

We asked our guide about how he used the building and he said he does not spend time in it. The costs are highly controversial among students as the college is now considering charging tuition, something it has never done.

One student even played a clever hoax

Some kids just don't appreciate good architecture! 

Design Research Ethics

In our Environmental Behavior Research class we have been considering what a Code of Ethics for Research in Sustainable Interior Environments might include. Doing a little research about this, I found the following page about design research, ethics, and informed consent at Design for Social Innovation

It's interesting to see this blog—that appears to have one foot in Chile and one in the US—looking at similar concerns. I especially appreciate the point where the author quotes from Scott-Jones' and Watt's
Ethnography in Social Science Practice: 

‘To an extent, most field research requires a more flexible or situational approach to ethics, and it is naive of any researcher to assume that an overt role, combined with a signed informed consent forms, means that research is fully ethical‘ [Watt & Jones 2010:123]

To me this means that the researcher must remain engaged, sensitive to the participants, and asking questions of the process throughout the process. There must be a willingness to "disobey" the approach if people are being harmed.

This is the lesson from Milgram and Tuskegee.

I would add that our ethical obligation to do no harm underlies all of the choices we make as designers, so I would think the research would be part of a continuum of activities in an ethical, integrated design process that would include every stage and every decision.

Market Transformation

On April 3, I attended an event at the AIA Center for Architecture:

Healing the Materials Supply Chain: The Google Story, featured three speakers, including Susan Kaplan who teaches Materials and Products for Sustainable Interior Environments in our masters program at FIT and is the Director of Specifications and Sustainability at HLW International.

Joining Susan were Bill Walsh, founder of the Healthy Building Network and Anthony Ravitz, leader of Google’s Green Team. Google is using the Living Building Challenge Redlist and the EPA’s list of chemicals of concern as strict guides in specifications of materials for office renovations and building systems.

Many of the concepts that we’ve been covering in our classes reverberated in this presentation. Most impressive for me was the concept of market transformation.

Companies like Google, Kaiser Permanente, Nike, Whole Foods, and Walmart are able to establish their sustainability goals and put pressure on manufacturers to change the ways that materials are produced or to develop healthier, more environmentally sound options.

It was pointed out that large companies are not the only source of power in this process and that the aggregate demand of the broader design community could influence change going forward.

Hmm, could it be that we are part of that right now?

Getting to Know Materials

Something that I’ve been thinking lately is that all things have embedded knowledge/information. Every environment (interior or exterior) and each elemental part have myriad things to tell us. This is true of the physical/chemical/material environment, the social and economic environment, the broader ecological environment and so on. For instance, since our chemistry class I see that chemical formulas for compounds found in nature are eternal recipes, destined to outlive any printed or digital instructions that humankind could ever create.

As our Sustainable Interior Environments group at FIT puts together our lovely table of materials to share with the conference tomorrow, I'm looking at a long list of materials, such as the copper that is used in buildings for structural and decorative purposes.

We've learned in our materials class that each phase in the cycle of copper and other material goods— extraction, processing, distribution, transportation, disposal—has an economic, a social and an ecological dimension to it. I alternate between being intrigued and overwhelmed at the prospects and choices of exploration, and now I look at the material samples differently. I see them not only as options for structures and finishes, but as things that have their own life cycles and, in a way, their own kind of knowledge. 

 

 

Observing Physical Traces

I got a copy of the Zeisel book, Inquiry by Design:Environment/Behavior/Neuroscience in Architecture, Interiors, Landscape, and Planning and was drawn to the chapter on Observing Physical Traces—looking at clues regarding behavior based upon physical evidence left behind by people.

In taking a look at some of the out-takes from the parklet photos, I found some interesting things. Of course this is hardly systematic, but perhaps nevertheless telling...

I took this picture because of the pedestrian in the bike lane, but only this weekend after I happened to read the Physical Traces chapter of Zeisel, I noticed that there is a big pile of trash in the lane! 

Photography is so great for things like this!

It's also interesting that this seems to be an older bike lane symbol. A trace of an earlier effort.

When I was walking the parklets, I was impressed at how well maintained they were, including how nice and new all the furniture seemed. I challenged myself to find tables that did not look new. This table was the most beat up one I could find. What happens to the ones that get damaged and worn?

This guy was flat on the ground, looking rather vulnerable (and sad.(

These little images reinforce a sense that I have that the furniture in these parklets is disposable. I wonder how long it lasts.

Do we think that if we don't put the trash on the ground, it's not littering? I notice this kind of thing on campus at FIT regularly. What if you could catch people doing this and ask them if/why they think it's OK?

Remember when people talked to their plants? What if plants could talk to people? I wish these plants could talk. I wish they would say: "There's a trash can over there, knucklehead!"

Lastly, I want to share this image and invite explanation. Is the fat white band an accident? Does it mean something? I like that there are footprints through it. Speaking of footprints, it looks like the bike lane symbol in the crosswalk is fading away.