Venice Biennale: The Material Side of Architecture

The Materials Side of Architecture

 By Rachel Gamble

During my travels this past week, I noticed a great variety of beautiful and interesting building materials. The red marble of Verona, the glass of Venice, and the rustic stones of Vicenza, among others, lent a rich historicism to much of the architecture that I saw. Yet other buildings, like the work of Carlo Scarpa and Tadao Ando, employed more high-tech and contemporary materials, giving their buildings a fresh and exciting sense of modernity. Through the choice and treatment of materials I saw during my travels, I was able to make comparisons between the various ways architects throughout history have employed different materials. At the Architecture Biennale in Venice, I was thus particularly interested in the exhibitions which focused on the importance of materials in architecture. As I toured the Biennale, I paid special attention to how the choice and treatment of materials shaped the exhibits and communicated the architects’ design goals.

In Anupama Kundoo’s “Feel the Ground: Wall House,” the Indian architect created a life-size scale model of her Wall House in South India. The exhibit used seemingly simple materials and traditional building techniques. However, in doing so, the Wall House demonstrated how valuable and relevant such construction methods remain, in spite of the high-tech world we live in. The house was constructed using handmade bricks, terra cotta tubes, and recycled materials – basic materials that exist in many different cultures and time periods. The materials themselves were made by Kundoo’s college students, Italian workers, and Indian craftsmen. These people were from several different counties but were brought together for the material construction of the exhibit. Kundoo’s exhibit demonstrated why traditional, low-tech materials and construction materials remain important in this high-tech era: through their ability to draw diverse people together to collaborate with one another in the creation of architecture.

Alternatively, Zaha Hadid’s “Arum Shell” represented high tech materials and construction techniques at the Biennale. The complex geometric sculpture was made up of lightweight folded aluminum in combination with a tensile structure. The project began with research and was then developed computationally based on a complex algorithm. By experimenting and testing the structural efficiency of the materials through technological means, the architect created an elegant and beautiful form. Through the cutting-edge materials and construction of this high-tech exhibit, I observed that architecture is constantly evolving and testing its boundaries. 

In the exhibits of the Biennale, many interesting materials from around the globe were featured, covering both the low tech and high tech ends of the spectrum. Exhibits such as Kundoo’s “Wall House” involved traditional building materials like brick, timber, and earth, showing how they are useful in bringing many different cultures together. In contrast, exhibits like Zaha Hadid’s “Arum Shell” were daring and visionary in material selection and technique. All the different materials and technological levels at the Biennale last week showed me how materials and construction techniques can be communicative. Together they tell the viewer much about the time period and culture of a design. In the words of Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, “Each material has its specific characteristics which we must understand if we want to use it. We must remember that everything depends on how we use a material, not on the material itself... Each material is only what we make of it.” Materials contribute uniquely to the architecture of which they are part. The Biennale showed me that architects should think beyond form and consider the impact that their material choices have on the built environment.

Wall House: Homemade Materials

Wall House: Photos of the Traditional Construction Techniques

Arum Shell: High Tech Tensile Structure

Sources

Mies Van Der Rohe, Ludwig. Illinois Institute of Technology. Armour Institute, Chicago, IL. November 1938. Inaugural Address.

Le Corbusier, the Surrealist.

By Jordan Grant

Le Corbusier, a name inescapable in the study of architecture, is the topic of this next post- or, rather, to be more exact, his work on a Parisian apartment for eccentric millionaire Carlos de Beistegui. This work stands out from the fabric of Corbusier’s body of work as extremely unique since its design heavily relies on the eccentricities of the client, so it is important to understand Beistegui first before discussing Le Corbusier as a surrealist.

Beistegui came from a rich family with a history in art collections- his uncle’s collection is now displayed in the Louvre. He was a world traveler, well-studied and at the center of the social scene in Paris during his lifetime. He’s often regarded as one of the most flamboyant figures of the 20th century and his parties were considered some of the best Paris has ever seen. By the 1930s when Beistegui contacted Corbusier in regards to designing his penthouse apartment, he has already obtained a large number of surrealist portraits in his art collection, and perhaps his apartment itself can be considered one of the greatest works of surrealist art that the collector ever obtained.

Surrealism was a movement that began in the early 1920s with Paris regarded as the most important center of surrealist works.  This philosophical movement centered on the concepts of unexpected juxtapositions, non sequitur, and surprises. It sought to uncover the creative potential of the unconscious mind. As Salvador Dali mentioned himself, "Surrealism is destructive, but it destroys only what it considers to be shackles limiting our vision." When the concept is applied to architecture, it is allowed to break out of what is considered normal or necessary and become a work of art that creates an environment that removes the shackles that are limiting our vision.

Now, keeping both the client and the client's love of surrealism in mind, take a deeper look in to Corbusier’s work for Beistegui. I don't claim to be an expert of any sorts- rather, these are my own observations and ventures into guessing what they may mean. Perhaps the story is best told through photos; from the winding narrow staircases to the mirrors to the furniture, it’s surely a surrealistic experience. Corbusier’s intricate and technologically advanced additions to the house include a camera obscura in the form of a telescope and a movie screen for projection that lowers as a chandelier rises. However, the rooftop garden has always been considered the highlight of the penthouse, which is rumored to have been helped in the design by none other than famous surrealist Salvador Dali.

One of the first similarities that appears is the sparseness of landscape. The rooftop garden of the penthouse has been designed so that only two monuments appear in the skyline, something not often seen (especially from such great heights). It's similar to some of the works by Dali, in which a limited skyline is shown. The images below show the similarities of the limited skyline:

Another recurrent items is mirrors, a popular subject of surrealists. Whether the mirrors were placed by Beistegui or Corbusier I know not, but they strengthen the ties to surrealist art- where heads are often shown disconnected from the bodies similar to how a head appears to be floating in a mirror.

While I've only begun my research on Beistegui and his apartment, which is difficult to find as it is one of Corbusier's most underrated projects, I believe that it is a fascinating topic that ties together art and architecture of the time in the 1930s.

Sources:

http://www.rasa.net/writings/corbubeistegui.html

http://mondo-blogo.blogspot.it/2010_10_01_archive.html

Architectural Biennale: Finding Common Ground in a Diverse Field

By: Chris Melton

During our group's visit to Venice, we were able to attend the architecture Biennale, an event that is held for architecture every other year where different firms, architects, and countries come together to share ideas and work. We were fortunate enough to be able to visit both sections of the Biennale in one day; and my first impression of the convention as a whole was just how impressive of a variety of which different architects, firms, and countries chose to present their works. Exhibits ranged from large, inhabitable models, to fully crafted master plans, drawings, renderings, and everything else that lies in between. The only way to describe the sheer amount of information at this event was excessive. The most interesting aspect about this convention for me, was not just how different the presentation styles and projects between the two pavilions was, but how vastly varied each exhibit was inside of each pavilion. Both pavilions were fantastic in their own right, and singling out just a few presentations from each one does neither justice, so I would like to take some time to talk about what I found the most interesting at the first pavilion.

One of the best features of the first pavilion was the way in which it introduced the theme of the Biennale at the beginning of the exhibit. This set the bar for the rest of the presentations, most of which were crafted with this theme in mind. When you first walked in, the words "Common Ground," which of course was the theme, were boldly placed on the wall in front of you, and all around the room were posters (shown above) that further elaborated on the meaning of this theme. Upon reflection, one of the things that I found the most interesting was just how much in-progress work the architects chose to present in order to show process and narrative in the absence of an oral presentation. As I got to inspect everything from napkin sketches, to parti's, to different in-progress models (shown below), all of this process work showed something that the final model or project never could; how the architect thought and problem-solved to create the final project. This was a very interesting aspect for me, almost like a small glimpse into that firms' office, and it was probably why I enjoyed the first pavilion so much.

The second thing that I found the most interesting about this pavilion was the wide variety in how the architects showcased their work. Some presented very basic, clean models and master plans, while on the contrary some others compiled together with other firms and architects to create one master work. These works often came together using different methods and ideas that then created a model or master plan that was a hodgepodge of different ideas and styles that was actually quite interesting. I still feel strongly about how awesome of a feeling it was to walk from room to room and continually be just as interested in every new room. One of the presentations that excelled in this regard was the second room, the room that was directed by Norman Foster. From the instant you enter the room's threshold, the lack of lighting and music set the scene for a different experience for when you turn the corner. Shown below, Foster had thousands of words and pixels being projected across the walls, floors, and people as they walked about, as well as two video along the walls that presented his thoughts and ideas on the theme of Common Ground. This experience was entirely subjective, the more the viewer stayed and studied, the more they could understand and get out of it, but its boldness is why I enjoyed it so much. Overall, the Biennale was a fantastic sight to see, and I felt that its' theme for this year's convention was perfect. The fact that there are so many different ways to view, create, and present any architectural project is in fact the Common Ground that all architects stand on, and being able to explore this through the Biennale was definitely the best part of our Venice experience.

Wall House Exhibition: 2012 Venice Biennale

By Tyler Silvers

At this year’s Biennale, Anupama Kundoo’s representation of her “Wall House” struck me as one of the most interesting exhibitions as this was the only exhibition that represented the original structure so fully, keeping true to the intended design concepts, materials, and construction methods. The architect’s decision to represent her Wall House with such accuracy in each of these fields allowed her to fully encompass the theme of this year’s Biennale – that of creating a common ground in architecture. From the original design intents to the construction and design of the exhibition space, Kundoo found a common ground between the occupants, the workers, and the environment.

Kundoo’s original design of the Wall House finds a common ground between man and his surrounding environment. The initial design works around the natural benefits of the site to enhance the capabilities of the home; taking into account sensitivity to sun patterns, wind orientations and seasonal variations as well as incorporating several of the existing trees into the plan. Furthermore, the structure itself can be modified to most effectively capture the natural aspects through the manipulation of shutters, specifying cross ventilation and sun exposure patterns based on the particular season. In addition to these passive techniques, the home finds use in active solar technologies such as photovoltaic cells (providing electricity) and a solar water heater that integrate natural elements, the structure, and the occupants.

In the construction of her exhibition, Kundoo and her team find a common ground between vastly different cultures. Kundoo chooses to mirror the construction of the original Wall House by utilizing traditional Indian construction methods that rely heavily on natural and recycled materials (such as locally produced baked clay bricks and terra cotta tubes or pots) that are installed by highly skilled local craftsmen. The architect has the original materials duplicated in India and shipped to Venice to ensure an accurate portrayal of her Wall House. As well, Kundoo brings with her several of the highly skilled Indian craftsmen to construct the exhibition, ensuring that the construction methods are also accurate with the local traditions. A team of students from the University of Australia (where Kundoo teaches) and Italian builders also lent a hand to the craftsmen for the creation of the exhibition. The diverse construction team found a common ground with the completion of the project, which represents a synthesis of what Kundoo calls, “imported techniques and [Italian construction] traditions.”

Through her design concepts for the exhibition space, Kundoo found a common ground between the design of the original project and the architecture of the Italian Arsenale. Stepping into her exhibition is like entering another world. Kundoo represents only a carefully selected portion of the Wall House at a 1:1 scale within the small confines of the exhibition space. Visitors catch a glimpse of traditional Indian construction techniques (through exposure of structural wood elements out of the brick façade and use of terra cotta tubes to create a barrel vault) and material pallette (through building materials and floor treatments). The design also gives visitors a sense of the original site within the walls of the exhibition by utilizing the existing brick column structure of the Arsenale. Kundoo integrates the columns in a similar manner to that of the trees at the original site. 

Kundoo’s exhibition space of the Wall House effectively finds a common ground with everyone involved in the project from start to finish – from the influence of the craftsmen of the original structure to the visitors of this year’s Biennale.

Bibliography:

-Vinnitskaya , Irina . "Venice Biennale 2012: Wall house / Anupama Kundoo, University of Queensland" 30 Jul 2012. ArchDaily. Accessed 28 Sep 2012. <http://www.archdaily.com/258087>

-Images courtesy of www.designboom.com

 

 

Challenging the Perception of the Garden

     In the case of both Isamu Noguchi’s Sunken Garden in the Chase Manhattan Building, and Ken Smith’s rooftop garden on the MOMA building in New York, the architects have attempted to affect the way their non occupiable spaces are perceived by the viewer, and to differentiate their spaces from more traditional understanding of a garden. While neither of these spaces are by any means traditional gardens they can both be defined that way because of the way the designers created the space in a way that simulates nature and gives the viewer the impression of something more than what is actually in front of them. In this way every garden is in some way a simulation of a natural environment usually on a smaller scale and with some kind of applied order.

Both the Sunken Garden and the Rooftop Garden looked for unique ways to create spaces that both simulate natural spaces and also create new dynamic spaces serving similar functions. Both projects are gardens that are supposed to be seen but not occupied, and yet this means very different things for these two projects. In the case of the MOMA Rooftop garden the defining factor is the scale at which the viewer observes the garden, since it is on the roof that can’t be accessed by the gallery space of the museum, it is only viable from the point of view of the surrounding towers that have a perspective that is past the level where detail can be recognized. So the designer goes almost out of his way to use materials and details that individually have very little connection to the nature, or a traditional garden space, but when put together and seen from the perspective of the surrounding towers, create a cohesive whole that is reminiscent of a natural space. This very different from the way the Sunken Garden was conceptualized; with that space the scale at which the viewer could see the space was quite close despite the not being able to physically occupy it. The garden is also unique in that it gives two very different perspectives in which to view it, one being at the level of it yet separated by a wall of glass, and the other be one level above it yet being outside with it and hearing a feeling the way the water is moving through the garden. It should be no surprise that both projects claim to take inspiration form the Zen gardens of Japan, which where meditative spaces that, were also seen from the perimeter of the space and not occupied. These are some of the best examples in historical architecture of how to challenge the perspective of the viewer and to really influence the way that they can experience a garden, using a technique of a seemingly simple and easily understood layout, that still challenges the viewer to be able to truly understand how the space is layed out, and what kind of logic or thinking could have been used in order to arrive at the final setup.  

     

Regulating Nature: How the function of a garden dictates its form

Gardens are a particularly interesting situation in the fabric of a city. Cities are entirely manmade environments designed to suit the needs of their populations. A garden is, in general, a natural or semi-natural spaces that acts as an addition to the city environment. This is a very different situation than the relationship that normally encountered when designing architecture (that of a building to a site). The level of human regulation that a garden is subject to is determined by the purpose that the garden is meant to serve. A garden may act as a foil for the city, as a way of recording the original environment of a space, as a relaxation area, or as a recreation area.

Alan Sonfist - Time Garden

The natural space of a garden punctuates the manmade city space. The relationship between the two spaces can say as much about the city as it does about the natural environment. This is accomplished through the tension created between the contrast of the two spaces (especially when a garden is not highly regulated). One great example of a highly unregulated garden is Alan Sonfist’s Time Garden which is located in New York City. This garden is a careful recreation of the natural flora that originally occupied the space that is now New York. This extreme break from the order of the city serves as a form of punctuation and as a living natural record.

Catherine Mosbach - Jardin Botanique Bordeaux - Plan

A garden can also record the natural environment in a slightly more ordered way. Catherine Mosbach’s Jardin Botanique Bordeaux, for example, presents the natural flora as one would present objects in a museum. She carefully compartmentalizes different vegetation and presents many different sorts of environments within a very confined space. Though form of presenting the natural environment is less authentic it also allows visitors to the space to gain a broader idea of what the space the city occupies would have actually been like.

Gardens are also often meant to serve the needs of the population of the city. Traditionally the purpose of gardens has been to provide a place for relaxation and respite from the city itself. Spaces designed for this purpose tend to be more structured that the previous examples because they, like the city itself, are designed largely to accommodate people. Gardens meant for the purpose of relaxation can be either private or public. Gardens that are private tend to contain more order because they typically occupy a smaller space and very often have walls which are a strict regulating feature.

Parc De Villette
Competition Entry -
Diagram of form generating layers

The final purpose a garden might serve is for the purposes of recreation. Often such gardens are the most highly ordered because they are meant to serve specific purposes other than simply providing a place to relax. Oma and Rem Koolhaas’s entry for the Parc de Villette competition in Paris is an extreme example of a garden as a regulated space. This garden is intended specifically as a space for activity. The design of the garden is entirely geometric and regulated by mathematical formulas and algorithms. It is essentially a structured space that includes some natural elements as opposed to a natural space with some structural elements. 

The Blur Building: A Contrived Landscape

by - Nick Tafel

A battle that many architects face for their entire careers is how their building ties into and works well with the landscape it is placed in.  It can be quite difficult to tastefully join a building to a landscape so that it plays off the landscape and vice versa.  Many times the success of a building as an unobtrusive piece of architecture lies solely in the relation of the building to the landscape.  There is no one simple solution to making a building join with the landscape in a symbiotic manner.  It is a choice of many different variables like form, placement and materiality that determines the overall success of a building in a landscape. To examine the success of this relationship I think the Blur project by Diller and Scofidio is an innovative example of how to compliment the existing landscape.

            Blur by Diller and Scofidio was built as a temporary structure in 2002 for the sixth Swiss National Exhibition.  The main attraction of the building was the fact that it was surrounded at all times by a perpetual cloud generated by the building itself.  The building had an innovative system of perforated steel panels which were pumped with water to create artificial clouds.  These artificial clouds enclosed the building completely in a cloud that shrouded it from view and enclosed those visiting the building.  On the lake where it was situated, Water, land and clouds are the only other things out there.  With this innovative use of water to create clouds, the building complimented the landscape and became a successful, artificial addition to nature.  The form of the building lends itself to looking like a cloud.  The light structure allows it to float unassumingly and playfully above the water similar to a real low-lying cloud.  It is shaped such that if there were an outer skin, it would be a round, elliptical shape, reminiscent of a cloud.  When the cloud was generated, it hugged the shore and the water, tying the structure into the landscape even more.  This structure was made so light by the cloud that it seemed even like the whole building was suspended inside of the cloud which made for an enhancement of the natural landscape.  Overall this structure was successful in tying into the landscape and becoming a part of the nature.

            Having artificial things act as naturally as this structure did is very difficult.  As I discussed the MOMA roof garden before, there is a point where nature become too contrived and does not mimic nature but takes the wonder, the connection and the discovery out of nature.   This structure brings something otherwise unattainable, a cloud, to ground level and allows you walk through it and experience a piece of nature that may never be experienced in the same way.  Diller and Scofidio very successfully captured a cloud and allowed humans the ability to walk through it and allowed true discovery to happen.  When the bounds of design are pushed too far concerning nature, the idea of nature is lost in the complex language of the design and truest form of experience and discovery is lost.  This, in my opinion, is what happened at the MOMA roof garden.  The landscape was much too contrived and overdesigned.  Here the design was tastefully adequate for what they wanted to accomplish and the true discovery of nature was persistently present.

http://www.xa-xa.org/uploads/posts/2011-05/thumbs/1304522800_blur_building_04.jpg

http://vietnamproject.vn/resource/upload/gallery/Blur_Building_6.jpg

http://www.cliphitheryon.com/images/jpg/architecture/Blur_2.jpg

Venice Biennale

By Khris Kirk

To all my devoted Bloggers, 

   We just went to Venice and got to experience the Biennale for architecture. The Biennale is a gathering of architecture from many different countries. The theme this year is Common Ground, directed by David Chipperfield, who explains that "The emphasis of the 2012 Biennale is on what we have in common. Above all, the ambition of Common Ground is to reassert the existence of an architectural culture, made up not just of singular talents but a rich continuity of diverse ideas united in a common history, common ambitions, common predicaments and ideals. In architecture everything begins with the ground. It is our physical datum, where we make the first mark, digging the foundations that will support our shelter". (La Biennale di Venezia) 

         

         When I arrived at the Biennale, I had no idea what to expect. I have honestly never heard of it until my group did a presentation about Venice before we left for our trip. So I had I hopes for what I was about to see. Once I started walking through the exhibits, all I could do was look in awe. Everything around me was amazing. There were models everywhere! Each exhibit presented something new and different from the previous one. There were a few that I really liked in particular.

 One was the O’Donnell and Tuomey's wooden structure. When I first saw the wooden structure, I thought I looked like a giant chimney that you could walk through. After walking through the full scale model, I felt like it squeezed and then released as a space. I thought the woven pattern of the wood was fascinating by being able to see through little windows to the other side. Then I read about the project. O’Donnell and Tuomey built this structure as a response to Venice and its history. The timber work and brick work is evident within the architecture of Venice. Bricks were casted by wood and then a person had to break the brick away from the wood after it dried. The use of wood pilling up horizontally and parallel to the bricks in the Arsenale is their way of representing Venetian history. (O'Donnell and Tuomey) After reading this, I was amazed at how they were able to represent this piece of history contained by a wooden structure that looks like a chimney. 

        Another project that I really enjoyed was the Russian Pavilion in the Giardini. In the Giardini, there are pavilions representing each country, whereas in the Arsenale there were projects spread around representing specific architecture firms. The Russian Pavilion is a grid of QR codes throughout the inside of the building. As you walk in, a person hands you an Ipad and you scan the QR codes. Then information is revealed about the Skolkovo. At the bottom level of the Pavilion there is a room with little holes that show images of the past that lead up to the Strolkovo project. (Russian Pavilion) I liked how the pavilion integrated technology with their building so a person can see how the Strolkovo was constructed. It was very futuristic and the inside was an experience that put a person in awe. Even today, I’m still in shock of how amazing the Russian Pavilion was.

            Overall, the Biennale was an experience I will never forget. There were so many projects to see. If I could do it again, I would devote two days to explore the Biennale. One day to see the Arsenale and the other for the Giardini. I wonder what will be at the next Biennale in 2014. 

Links
La Biennale di Venezia 
O'Donnell and Tuomey
The Russian Pavilion

         

  

Is There a Limit to What Should be Manipulated?

By Francisco G. Zambrano

     Last post was about how people like to use monumental architecture in order to manipulate people and their feelings. In this post, I would like to reflect on how we have come to want to control nature in order to manipulate the feelings and actions of others. This behavior can be witnessed in any kind of landscape ranging from a small backyard private garden to public urban parks.



Fig.1: Seed bombing the Raytheon Plant,
Santa Barbara, CA, 1992

 

     The first example that comes to mind, is the seed bomb project by Katherine Miller (Fig. 1). Even though her projects were not enclosed gardens or parks within a defined space, she was able to manipulate the way people felt when "interacting" with her gardens. By allowing people to simply purchase a little mud ball with seeds and throw it where ever their liking, it allowed the people to feel empowered about being able to make a change in their community and surroundings. Then, as time went by and the seeds bloomed, the people then could see their effect on the land and feel accomplished. It is interesting how even though the people can't always walk through the flowers that they "planted," simply the sight of them growing in the most unexpected places puts a smile on even the people who simply walk by. This example was one that is somewhat less manipulative than others. I would even say that it doesn't even manipulate people's feelings necessarily, but rather their actions and how they interact.
    

Fig.2: Serpentine Gallery Pavilion 2011,
designed by Peter Zumthor.
Photo by Walter Herfst

     The previous project has no definitive space yet does manipulate at a small level. Now when we look at the 2011 Serpentine Pavilion in London by Peter Zumthor and Piet Oudolf, this is a manipulation that is strong in the physical aspect and emotional as well. You walk along a path in an open grassy area and then you come across this simple black rectangle that has no face nor an understanding of an entrance, simply three paths that lead to three random openings on the buildings' side. Then you enter a dark narrow corridor (Fig. 2), which gives you a feeling of confusion and pressure, but then see openings where light comes through on the opposite side from where you enter. You exit this dark corridor and enter the center space which is open with a garden of wild plants in the middle and nothing else. This calm and quiet site gives you relief from the busy surroundings of the pavilion. As stated by Arch Daily on June 27, 2011,  "(this is a)design that ‘aims to help its audience take the time to relax, to observe and then, perhaps, start to talk again – maybe not’, the materials are significant in aiding the design which emphasizes the role the senses and emotions play in our experience." The architects have manipulated the experience of the area with containing a simple wild flower garden within the dark structure. The manipulation, or experience, was achieved in a very simple way but was able to achieve its purpose in a very deep successful manner.

Fig. 3: My personal sketch of the Cubist Garden
by Gabriel Guevrekian.

    

     In these past examples, the manipulation of the passersbys was more of their emotions and actions that is achieved through an experience. In Gabriel Guevrekians' Cubist Garden in southern France, he has taken full control of the architecture and nature in order to manipulate the visitors emotions and experience. He has taken control of the type of vegetation, the growth style, the placement, basically every aspect, in order to achieve what he wants the visitors to experience. The manipulation of nature in this example, is very different in comparison to the last two, where nature was allowed to manipulate or rather effect the visitors naturally.
    

     These were just a very few examples of "gardens" that have been manipulated in order to manipulate the feelings and way of interaction of the visitors. It amazes me that we have been able to achieve something so complex as human emotions with the use of something so complex as nature. But I do believe there is a limit, where nature should be left as it wants to be, rather than manipulated to fit human desires.

The High Line: A Structure For All Seasons

The High Line: A Structure For All Seasons

By Rachel Gamble

         Throughout my ten-day trip in northern Italy, I frequently experienced works of architecture that were centuries and in some instances even millennia old. This continually raised a question in my head – what leads to such timelessness in architecture? Renowned architect Frank Gehry once said that "Architecture should speak of its time and place, but yearn for timelessness." Yet, the works of architecture built today seem temporary and tenuous in light of classical buildings like St. Mark’s Basilica in Venice or the Arena in Verona. Such historic structures lead me to wonder how modern-day architects can achieve this ageless quality in contemporary architecture. In the High Line in New York, Diller Scofidio + Renfro present an interesting way of making a man-made structure more timeless and enduring – by designing their structure to adapt over time with the nature around it. Would buildings perhaps be more permanent if they mimicked the High Line and were more integrated with the earth?

         In the High Line, Diller Scofidio + Renfro worked with James Corner Field Operations and Pete Oudolf to create an elevated plant-lined path through the urban landscape of New York. This aerial park changes with the seasons due to its plant life. By synthesizing itself to nature and to natural patterns of growth, it evolves and becomes much longer-lasting. The project began with the renovation of an elevated railway in Manhattan. This piece of urban infrastructure had, over time, fallen into disrepair and been reclaimed by nature - a man-made structure that could not withstand the years. In the refurbished High Line, we observe how a structure can be made more permanent if it is created to adapt with nature. According to Diller Scofidio + Renfro, the High Line is designed to “remain perpetually unfinished, sustaining emergent growth and change over time." Nature is continuously changing, but the High Line is in synch with the nature that it houses. Thus, even as the weather and plants change with the seasons, the High Line adapts and changes as well.

         The structure does this in a variety of ways. The paving system on the walkway alternates between pre-cast concrete and vegetation that blend together. Intentional cracks in the pavement encourage the natural growth of wild plants. The new plants placed in beds along the walkway were selected after researching the area. When choosing the species, the designers drew inspiration from the self-sufficient native plants under the train tracks, to compliment the surrounding landscape. Many of the flowers and bushes were locally grown – plants that had been proven to thrive in the New York climate. This vegetation was planned out so that there are constantly plants in bloom, no matter the season. Additionally, the plants on the High Line are drought-tolerant and low-maintenance to reduce upkeep costs. The layers of soil, as well, were carefully organized to retain water where it is needed and aid with drainage. 

         This “agri-tecture,” as designer James Corner termed it, carefully integrates architecture with plant life. By selecting hardy, adaptable plants with seasonal variation, the designers of the High Line produced a structure that can adapt with time. The project leads me to wonder if modern-day architecture was synchronized more with the nature around it, could it become more permanent, like the timeless Venetian and Veronese buildings I saw during my travels? Perhaps the answer to the quest for timelessness in contemporary architecture is for architects to design structures that, like nature, are flexible and can adapt with the changing seasons. 

Blending of hardscape and softscape

Native plants

Perennial grasses that bloom in all seasons

Sources

"James Corner Field Operations and Diller Scofidio + Renfro." The High Line, 2012. Web. 24 Sep. 2012. <http://www.thehighline.org/design/design-team-selection/field-operations-diller-scofidio-renfro>

Gehry, Frank. The Pritzker Architecture Prize, 2009. Web. 24 Sep. 2012. <http://www.pritzkerprize.com/2011/ceremony-speech-1>

One with Nature

By: Khris Kirk

"All architecture is shelter, all great architecture is the design of space that contains, cuddles, exalts, or stimulates the persons in that space."- Philip Johnson

Architects design spaces that invoke a feeling for a person. They want people to feel a certain way when they are within their space. One method that some architects have been doing lately is bringing a person within nature and letting them experience the space from a different viewpoint. Being one with nature. Two examples would be Diller and Scofidio with Blur and RO & AD architects with the Moses Bridge.


The RO & AD architects designed the Moses Bridge to bring a person within the moat to Fort de Roovere. Moats were used as a defense against enemies that were attacking a fortress. The only way to get across a moat was with a draw bridge. Since the area around the fortress is used for hiking, running, and biking, people needed a way to get across the moat. The RO & AD architects decided to put the bridge within the moat, making it nearly invisible to the eye. The bridge is like a section cut within the land. By allowing a person to be within this section, they get to experience being within nature. The RO & AD architects could have designed a regular bridge that stretches across the moat, but instead, they took the effort to change a person's view from above to within. This unique experience will live on with people who visit the site. RO & AD architects have successfully engaged people to feel one with nature with the use of their designed space.



Diller and Scofidio took a similar direction with bringing someone into nature; however, they took a different approach. They designed a structure called the Blur. The idea behind this is to bring a person on top of a cloud. Many people dream of being on a cloud as a child, and Diller and Scofidio have made it possible. As a person approaches the Blur, it starts as a bridge towards a huge cloud. A person cannot see the structure unless they are far away. Once on the Blur, there is a viewing point where a person stands above the cloud and can see out onto the lake. Diller and Scofidio have created a space that gives the feeling that a person is in the air and standing on a cloud. The name Blur even gives the impression that as you are within the cloud and upon the structure, a person can’t see clearly in front of himself. The people beyond them are blurred. This is another sensation that the space has created for a person. Taken as a whole, Diller and Scofidio create a man-made structure that provides the sensation of being within a cloud and on top of a cloud, bringing a person within nature.

 Overall, both RO & AD architects and Diller and Scofidio have successfully created spaces for people to experience the nature around them. They did not just create a structure that is used to as shelter or a means to get somewhere, but they went further. They used their skills to bring a person into a space and feel what they wanted people to feel; and that would be to be one with nature. 

Links

Diller and Scofidio, The Blur Building

Moses Bridge, RO & AD Architects 

Simplifying for Common Ground

Caroline Smith

Over the past few weeks I have shown an interest in simplifying architecture, inspired by many great minds like Eisenman, Le Corbusier, and Scarpa. Peter Eisenman’s process of Deconstructivism has fueled my exploration of simple architecture that is enriched by its surroundings, or that acts as an aide to something else. At the Architecture Bienale in Venice, I was interested in more ways that architecture could be simplified in order to evoke an emotion. I concluded that architecture can create illusions of a space within another, without always using walls or distinct edges.

            Valerio Olgiati wanted to display works from the most unique contemporary architects, in his opinion. The space that he created for the display takes the shape of a small room within a larger one. No walls are used for the boundaries of this room, but are instead implied by columns and a change in height. The ceiling of the smaller area is much lower than that of the main room. It seems to be a small space, because of the enormousness of the surrounding one, but is still rather large when standing inside. The works are arranged on a large white table that mimics the lower ceiling, creating a visual third space. The technique is so simple, but it draws you in to look at what is displayed. Furthermore the display carries out the idea of the Biennale’s theme “Common Ground.” Each architect’s style displayed is very different but is united on this common ground, which architecturally exhists as a simple space within a space.

            Robbrecht  en Daem Architecten represented Places, Heights and Depths using cinematography and photography. Similar to Olgiati’s his work was displayed as a space within a space. Again, a lower ceiling created the implied boundaries of the exhibit but these pieces were suspended in the air. Lights contributed to this illusion by shining through the hanging pieces and adding a floor element resembling change in material. Now a boundary exhists between the new ceiling and the new floor. Architecture does not have not be made of clear walls and roofs, but may be composed of other elements that may appeal to more of the 5 senses. Again, this method is simple, but appealing, drawing a person into the space.

            Another exhibit appealing to the senses is Poland’s Giardidi exhibit- A “sound sculpture” by Katarzyna Krakowaik. The sound has been described as “making the walls quake as if they are dialating with the secret knowledge of great powers.” The exhibit is a bare, slightly uneven concrete room. There is not much to look at, but the beauty exists in the sound of the architecture and the emotions provoked by the noise. An uncomfortable fear came to me at first, but as I explored the room I became curious about the sound, causing me to linger in the space. Although the architecture appears to be in its most basic form, the sound works with the space, creating a depth and a reason to stay.

           Finding common ground among every country can be a difficult task, but as I saw in the Biennale, architecture can be related to any country when simplified. Architecture in its most basic form can always pair with something else, whether artwork, light or sound; movement or views; or a cause to improve something insignificant, as we have seen in the past few weeks.

How Architectural Design Moves Us, Literally

By: Chris Melton

Our third lecture in our Contemporary European Architecture class centered on "Moving Landscapes." This concept has two key points: How the user moves through the landscape, and how the idea of landscape has become mobile through architecture. For my blog post this week, I would like to discuss how architectural design should move the viewer through the project, and thus enhance the experience of the structure, and in turn, the site or landscape as well. Today I would like to explore this concept by analyzing two of Le Corbusier's works, and how they relate to this subject.

Our starting point this week was the architectural concept of the 'promenade,' which, at its core, is a starting point to move through an area. Promenades should lead the viewer to the area beyond through both views and vistas, or lack lackthereof. The first work I would like to discuss in its use of promenade is a particular work of Le Corbusier's. This work, which was an apartment commission for Charles de Beistegui, is a stark style deviation for Corbusier. Beistegui was an avid collector of art of the surrealist movement, and this apartment's design, whether through commission or initial design or a combination thereof, seems to reflect this surrealist movement at times, and perhaps played to the artist within 

Corbusier himself.

Surrealist aspects aside, the Beistegui apartment uses this concept of promenade throughout its structural design. As shown in the board above, the placement of thresholds throughout the apartment tends guide the user into the next area. Corbusier uses this in a few different ways. One example is by juxtaposing large openings next to smaller ones to promote a certain circulation that then creates both public and private spaces. Another example of this is done by his placement of staircases that either promote or demote movement to certain areas. The stylistic, spiral staircase below, pulls the viewer up to the first public rooftop area. This first area is a walled garden with select cut outs that give very specific panorama views of the site and city beyond. These allow the user to experience the specific vista that can only be viewed from that spot. Corbusier also crafted a second rooftop garden that is actually very different from anything else he has ever done. Using a second, separately styled staircase, he promoted a softer movement, that then created a more private space above. This second roof top garden, through both the high walls and furniture elements inside, is very surreal. With baroque furniture, a false fireplace, and a large mirror, this private area seems to be almost out of a surrealist painting itself, and is very quite interesting from this architect.

While the Beistegui apartment is a very interesting work to analyze, the best example of promenade would be Corbusier's design of Villa Savoye. Corbusier design uses this concept to not only pull the viewer through his structure laterally, but vertically as well. He designed the central stairway and ramp (shown above) to allow unseen light to flood down, and thus pull the user to the rooftop garden above. But, this is only one of his takes on promenade. Corbusier's use of his own five points on architecture in his plan of Savoye also led to the structure of the villa to become a promenade to the site around it. Not only does the design of Savoye pull the user through it, views from the interior leading the user to the next room, or garden (shown below), or etc; but the running windows, free plan below, and roof garden pull the viewer's eyes away from the beautiful structure that surrounds them, and into the site beyond. This, I think, is where Savoye's true beauty lies. The architectural design doesn't ever stop the viewer; instead it creates a rhythm that not only leads the viewer through the structure, but into the landscape beyond. The viewer never stops and focuses on one aspect for too long, as there is always another element yearning for attention, pulling on the senses. 

Through his use of promenade in his designs and his creation of these gathering spaces in the form of roof top gardens, I think that Le Corbusier is a great example for how architecture itself is 'moving landscapes.' The idea that promenade can lead the viewer through the structure, and craft such a specific yearning into the landscape beyond, plants the seed of movement through the landscape into the user's mind. An idea that won't go away until it is sated. The second idea, that landscape is mobile, can be seen in the form of both works' rooftop gardens. These hortos conclusus gardens have not only literally elevated the landscape, but have moved the nodes of the circulation to the roof. This promotes a need to stay, to experience, and to view the area beyond, that previously didn't exist. While Le Corbusier didn't ever physically move landscapes, his use of architecture design certainly changed how his patrons viewed and experienced the landscape of his sites; and through that fact alone, his designs were successful.