Thinking about Architecture

I have recently signed up to a service called ‘School of Everything‘, which lets anyone advertise offers to teach anything, on any terms they want, an idea that, as a follower of Ivan Illich, and (slightly paradoxically) also a founder of a small, alternative school, appeals to me a great deal.

The site shows you other members who have identified themselves as living close to you, and one of these has labelled himself a ‘psychogeographer‘. Originally coined in the ’50s by the precursors of the Situtationist Internationale, the term is not strictly defined, but implies an acute sensitivity to the experienced realities of place, implicitly rejecting separation of different aspects or  thoughtless devaluation of any. It has recently become a little trendy, having been used by Will Self and associated with the work of Iain Sinclair – an example of recuperation in effect?

As someone who has always been excited by  situationism and the anarchic view of life, I was intrigued to find someone calling himself a ‘psychogeographer’.

Looking at his website, I was interested immediately in his work on ‘complexity maps’ – I am convinced that the next stage of our metaphysical progress (the only ‘progress’ that really matters) must be an engagement with complexity, even if only for something as mundane as survival (the global ecosystem being one of the more complex systems we know of).

I delight in the wilful, playful, deliberately paradoxical flavour of situationist events and artefacts, but my own paradox is that I am an architect – the things I build are permanent, hugely energy intensive, and need to nurture and support life.

In the work I choose to do (making everyday, practical buildings), embodying disturbing, psychologically aggressive elements (as does most of the architecture which claims or is recognised as having been influenced by situationist/deconstruction theory), would be obscene to me. The ‘situations‘ which should occur here are those that happen when real life is supported, when the character of people, materials, the natural world, sensitivity to micro-climate, delight in beauty are the drivers of architectural decision making.

This requires me to welcome complexity, to engage with it, to attempt to develop a feeling for the flow of life,  so that my buildings can support it. This is hard – hard for two reasons; one, I live in a culture formed by four centuries of cartesian thinking, of finding success in the radical simplification of systems that underly the ‘scientific’ approach; and two, humans are fundamentally poor at dealing with complexity – we can hold very few ideas in consciousness simultaneously.

I am fortunate to have been a student of Christopher Alexander, who, in his relentless pursuit of understanding beauty, of wanting to be empowered to create beauty, has employed rationalist means to approach the irrational – another way of saying he has sought to expand our metaphysics.

His invention – the notion of ‘pattern languages‘, is, I am certain, one of the new tools we can use to help work creatively with complexity – to get out of the nightmare that we are in, where our paradigm for learning about something is to kill and dismember it, so that we can build some terrible crude simulacrum, animated by brute force alone.

Enough!

I am hugely pleased to have written this letter – it has helped me crystallise some thoughts, forge some relationships between aspects of my thinking that can sometimes seem at odds.

Part of the ‘Reveille! Earth calling Architecture!’ series, collected under ‘Pages’ on the right.

Architects in general are hopelessly, pathetically trapped by the word ‘modern’.

Within architectural circles, not to be ‘modern’ is to be beyond the pale, outside all normal, acceptable discourse.

And yet the de-facto definition, inside the architectural world, of ‘modern’ , is laughable, embarrassing. It basically means;

• no features that look purely decorative (features that ARE purely decorative, but don’t look it, can be accepted – are in fact the norm),
• flat roofs where possible (where pitched roofs are used, they must be deliberately odd in some way, so as not to look traditional),
• asymmetrical windows
• er, that’s it
• oh yes, it has to not look ‘dated’.

Anything else is fine.

Now, many architects, on reading this, will become apoplectic and argumentative. I welcome comments, and will seek to answer them as I can, but, dear reader, I hold firm to this claim.

Of course, the subject doesn’t come up much amongst architects, because architecture (I’m talking about the real world of architects who build things here, not the even smaller and essentially hermetic world of architectural theory) is essentially a closed shop. No-one who doesn’t subscribe to this laughable ‘code’ is accepted as an ‘architect’. It is only when an architect strays, that another will comment on a lack of modernity (either apologetically or aggressively, according to type). And this will be a wounding criticism to most architects, who will be set to scurrying about, either to change or justify their transgression. Because what they are really being told is that they are being judged, according to the code, as to whether they are ‘one of us’, or not.

Of course, as a nominally intellectualised class, architects don’t like to think of themselves as being ridiculous, or to be exposed as being laughably adrift from contemporary cultural discourse (which, as we will see, has long relegated ‘modern’ to the past), and so various cover-phrases, such as ‘contemporary’ or ‘of today’ are trotted out in public, so as to avoid the embarrassment of using the word ‘modern’. But in private, between consenting architects, ‘modern’ is the commonly understood shorthand.

Architects have of course had to accommodate themselves to the real world, accepting, for instance, that the number of ‘modern’ buildings in the world is far smaller than the number of ‘pre-modern’ and ‘vernacular’ ones, and that most people actually prefer these buildings, particularly the most attractive, to the products of ‘modern’ architects, and that there is work to be had in dealing with them. So there exists a tolerated sub-class of architects, called ‘conservation architects’. These are treated with an amused and gentle contempt by most architects, who view them as well-meaning but essentially sad cases, occasionally of use when one has to work on or near something old. [The conservation architects who want ever to be considered for work from the mainstream are careful to let it be known that they subscribe completely to the ruling dogma of 'modern' - see  The Past in aspic]

But just try asserting that the whole of the history of architecture is the valid basis for contemporary work, that pitched roofs and symmetrical windows are just as valid as any other type, that decoration is a vital part of architecture, and see the reaction from most architects. Even worse, try arguing for these things at work. Kiss your career goodbye, or go into voluntary exile, seeking shelter with the outcasts, the architects who espouse ‘traditional building’.

And what do you find? That these outcasts are just as trapped by, in thrall to, the idea of ‘modern’. Except that to this small, embattled group, modern is everything that buildings should not be. Try suggesting a flat roof to this lot, or an asymmetrical facade.

Now you begin to discover what being an outsider really means.

How did this state of affairs come to pass? Have architects always been this foolish, this lost? Not at all – we have a chequered past, but not all of it is shameful. See the next instalment!

Many entries here don’t truly merit the title ‘Thinking about Architecture’ – they are reactions to projects, news items, or are about projects we’re working on.

But, starting today, I’m going to begin trying to write some more general posts on architecture. As these will hopefully have some coherence, I’m going to store them in the ‘pages’ area of the blog – the links at the right hand side of the page, under the heading;

Reveille! Earth calling Architecture!

<update> Since ‘pages’ don’t allow comments, I will post each part as both a blog entry and a page. I’m afraid you will need to register in order to post a comment – spam generators love posting comments it seems!

This is an aerial overview of a ‘concept’ scheme we have developed for a new type of residential care home proposed by Deep Green Care.

A bird's eye view of the concept scheme

We began by thinking very carefully about arrangements of rooms that could meet the operational needs of a care home, which tends toward units of around 25 beds, at the same time as minimising the feeling of an institution. This led us to create clusters of 8/9 rooms, three of which are then clustered around an internal courtyard/atrium, where there are also support rooms and social spaces. At the same time, we developed a typical room type which is laid out to have windows on two sides, to give the best quality of natural light. Combining these together around a central hub where larger scale support and social spaces are grouped, we developed the form shown here (for the purpose of the concept scheme, we have assumed a site with a slope, so that there are two storeys at one side, and one at the other, to give 75 rooms).

How have we come to be working on such a project? Well, about a year ago, we had an intriguing email, asking if we would be interested in working on a concept scheme for a new model of residential care, one that was at the same time concerned to be seriously sustainable, and at the same time deeply humane, looking to connect these two concerns in a holistic way.

Of course, we said; ‘Yes, please – right up our street’.

We were lucky to get this chance – Julie Hotchkiss, the founder of Deep Green Care, happened to be good friends with  David Whitehead, an architect I used to work with at MJP, and naturally asked him if he was interested. Earning my deep gratitude, David recommended us as perhaps more suited to the project, and I met with Julie shortly afterward.

The Deep Green Care proposal comes directly from Julie’s life experience. As someone who needed care after a serious illness, and found the available options unappealing, she;

“resolved to create the sort of community I would like to live in, should the need arise”

It appeals to me powerfully, as someone who has always tried to work in a ‘holistic’ manner – always aiming to consider the totality of a situation, as far as one ever can – that the sustainability of the building could tie in with the sustainability of the lives of the people who will live and work in it (better environments in residential homes have been proven to lead to longer life).

For me, one of the most engaging aspects of the proposal is that it aims to soften the distinction between permanent care in a residential setting at one extreme, and living at home with visiting carers at the other, by providing a range of building types around the central residential building. This might mean that someone in the early stages of a degenerative disease might live  perfectly normally in a normal house in the grounds, accessing care services only when and if needed, secure in the knowledge that, over time, additional care would be available and that if eventually it becomes necessary to stay in the central care home, family are close at hand, and can visit on an informal basis. We have suggested that existing houses that adjoin the site, but have front doors on surrounding streets, could be bought, with links being made via the back garden, so that people can live on a normal street, as part of a normal neighbourhood, while still having good access to services.

Anyway, there is a great deal more to read about Julie’s ideas for Deep Green Care on her blog, if you want to know more. It’s a fascinating idea, and we are hopeful that they will find a suitable site soon, so that we can begin to work on a real, rather than an abstract, scheme!

An item on the (occasionally interesting) Planning Portal website run by the government  had some good news, for once!

The proposal by the Lammas community to build an exceptionally low impact ‘eco-village’ on a site near the village of Glandwr in North Pembrokeshire has finally gained a planning consent, the initial application having been made in June 2007.

We are pleased by all sorts of positive news , of course, but have a particular interest in the Lammas group, as we submitted a scheme for a competition they ran to find a design for the ‘community hub’ building. Our design was shortlisted, but they ended by selecting a local architect who was going to work for an exceptionally low fee.

We were pleased by the Lammas description of our scheme as ‘inspirational’ – we rather liked it ourselves – and here it is:

Lammas Community Hub building - competition proposal by Dil Green Architect

Lammas Community Hub proposal - plan - Dil Green Architect

Although small and simple, the plan is rather sophisticated, allowing for separate use of the community office and WCs on the left, and the small hall on the right, while providing a covered link between them, which was required for use as an open air ‘community swap zone’ (where surplus produce/items would be left), and a sheltered terrace on the south, to which the hall could be opened up for fair-weather uses. Provision was allowed for later construction of a small kitchen/servery and for expansion.

And, if you are keen for more detail, here is a copy of our written submission.

We wish the Lammas Community the best of luck, and a fair wind in the next phase – they actually have to start building, now!

Studio MGM have built some rather simple and elegant flats in Bury St Edmunds – published here by BuildingDesign – and for once a building reviewed in an architectural publication moves me to praise.

MGM flats in Bury St Edmunds

On a tight site, on a tight budget, Studio MGM have manged to make a piece of architecture that also works as a building.

The flat plans are simple, sensible and pleasant – they used sprinklers to get away from the  dingy hallway that is the enforced arrangement for many flats under fire regulations – offering decent dual-aspect living/dining rooms with discreetly open-plan kitchens. Nothing revolutionary, but unfortunately very rare at the bottom end of the market.

The building is elegantly framed and clad in larch – a timber that is among the most durable of european sustainably produced wood – Western Red Cedar has been so over specified and overused that it has become expensive, and largely comes from imports from the USA.

The exposed frame is intended to become overgrown with wisteria – which will be a lovely counterpoint to the elegant but rather hard edged exposed framing (I do worry about long term maintenance, but I’m sure that this has been thought through in what is obviously a highly considered scheme).

I was pleased to hear from Meredith Bowles at Studio MGM that David Lea was one of their inspirations – an architect I have long admired.

And very interested to learn that another MGM partner, Ralph Carpenter of modece architects has worked with hemp/lime in the past – a material we are working with for two current projects.

Victory is ours! We recieved a positive decision from the Planning Inspectorate on our client’s appeal against refusal of planning permission for this humble infill building:

the two storey bit in the centre is ours…

After a planning process that was handled with a distressing mixture of deliberate vagueness coupled with an intense desire to control, we have won through – albeit at a cost of 7 months delay and additional fees from our client – the London Jewish Cultural Centre, for whom the new building will form the basis of a much needed  activity centre for local youth.

Once again, the combination of paranoid desire for power, coupled with second rate thinking and institutional incompetence has been the dominant theme in our interaction with the public planning system.

Knowing that although this seems to be the depressing norm, the process can be attended by rationality, good humour and shared concerns for the public good, as other (rare) experiences have proved, only makes it more galling to go through.

[UPDATE: article in the Hampstead annd Highgate Express, 4 Feb]

During 2002, we had an intriguing enquiry from a chap who said he had a site in the Cotswolds, on which he wanted to build a serious eco-house. Were we interested? Yes, we were!

He told me he wanted to build a large house, and about his hopes that it could be ‘off grid’. Clients who are deeply committed to building something sustainable are rare and wonderful – many of our clients have certainly been sympathetic, but have had other pressing needs and calls on their budget, and generally some sort of balance has to be struck. It was clear that the enquiry was serious – he had done a fair amount of research before talking to architects, and knew what he was letting himself in for.

But there was something about his idea that was strange to me. He wanted a VERY large eco-house – one with six bedrooms, all with en-suite bathrooms. And a three car garage.

It took me a while to get my head around this. The typical person who is self-building an eco-house is someone with a ‘small is beautiful’ ethos, generally looking to reduce their ecological footprint in many ways.

I wasn’t sure whether we should get involved – had I misjudged the client’s seriousness? The proposal required exceptional planning support to succeed, as it was significantly larger than the existing house it would replace – was the ‘eco’ angle just greenwash for the planners? At last, I remembered something Christopher Alexander had said when asked whether he shouldn’t be designing cars out of a new town project he was working on.

“You see,” he said, “we take the way people say they want to live rather seriously.”

And I realised that if all the eco-houses which got published were either hair-shirt, humble places (or  billionaire’s showcase holiday pads), that it would be hard for most people to understand that this was a way of living they could look forward to.

So I went to visit the site, put together some proposals (which I thought rather good, you may not be surprised to hear), and did a short presentation.

And … we didn’t get the job. I had a brief, friendly note, saying that they had chosen a local architect on the basis of his greater experience with the local planners, and we heard no more. We had explored some interesting ideas working it up; chalk it up to experience – that’s it. I thought no more about it, until a few months ago, I was idly looking at one of the many magazines we get full of adverts for building products.

There was a picture of an interesting looking building, set into pleasant countryside, and I was feeling faintly jealous – it was described as ‘a luxury eco-house in the cotswolds’ – why don’t we get those jobs? And then I remembered; was this it? Had he really built it?

A little research told me that he had, and led me to the Moonstone Project  Website , which is an interesting read covering the first part of the process of getting an ambitious self-build project under-way, although it seems clear that the process of building the house has taken over from building the website at a certain point.

It’s a fairly heroic story, as John (John Croft and Leigh Grainger are the heroes) has obviously driven the project forward all the way through two changes of architect, a complete reversal of opinion in the planning department, doing his own production drawings, and running the job on site.

And when I ‘phoned him up to congratulate him, he still sounded borderline sane! We’re hoping to find time to take him up on his offer of a guided tour.

To cap it all, he has said some remarkably nice things about us on his site (which of course I’d just love you to read), not to mention quoting us most gratifyingly and linking to our website!

Jean Nouvel’s latest completed building, the ‘Bains-les-Docks’, at Le Havre, set me thinking.

There are more ‘photos here (copyright, so I can’t include them directly).

I haven’t seen the building, but the images show clearly that this is a work of some ambition, thoughtful, the result of a great deal of careful consideration.

They also show a building in which all detail has been pared back to a minimum – if you could zoom in to the image above, the only increase in detail would be in the water, not the building – there simply IS no detail. All effect (and there clearly is intended effect – the forms are highly varied, within a limited range of moves) is sculptural, formal, spatial – the forms could be, and many probably are, made of painted plasterboard.

There is no comment on this in the review I have read – it is evidently of little concern. And that’s what set me thinking.

When early modern, deliberately simplified, ‘abstract’ buildings began to appear, the typical reaction was shock – an inability to accept buildings so pared down, so mute about their own materiality, so denying of human craft (and those buildings were hand-crafted – hand-crafted to look as if they were the products of a machine-age).

The ‘progressive’ view of these buildings, though, appreciated the simplicity, the  ’Neue Sachlichkeit’ (New Cleanliness), as a breath of fresh air against the background of the cloying, eclectic detail of much late C19th architecture. These progressives came from a rich background of varied forms, rich and characterful materiality. For them the simplicity was always to be seen against this background; it meant something, offered something different, aspired to something.

The simplicity was noteworthy on both sides of the argument, for and against.

Flash forward to now, and the simplicity is banal, not worthy of the slightest comment. The children playing in some of the photos are experiencing a radically simplified environment, where there are only a few, saturated  block colours, where forms are made with the blankest of stuff.

Their background is perhaps emptier, less material, less varied, than any past generation’s; and the problem with this is that it’s a one-way street. If you’ve grown up in a rich, dense, complex environment, then simplicity is something you can deal with (you may or may not like it, but it certainly won’t be a cognitive stretch).

On the other hand, if you’ve grown up in a simplified world, then even a normal, natural level of complexity (normal? natural? I hear the post modern among you sneer: yes, the normal, natural level of complexity exhibited in the environment in which all humans lived until the very recent past) – can be overwhelming, disorienting, confusing – requiring concentrated effort to comprehend.

All of which is perhaps a long-winded way of saying – modern architecture is dumbed-down.

The inauguration of our blog coincides with my decision, only to take on projects which have true sustainability as a central project aim.

This is an ethical, rather than a philosophical, decision. Ethical in the ecological sense, as ecologists use the term  ‘ethic’ to describe a limitation on behaviour which is imposed by the ecosystem.

I once wrote an article for the now defunct ‘Ecodesign’ magazine, entitled ‘Why I am NOT a green architect’ – setting out my attempt to work in a holistic way, without accepting that any specialised perspective should dominate. Sustainability thinking, as a necessarily holistic practice, has always been fundamental to my approach, but in the broadest imaginable sense.

However, it seems increasingly likely that there is a fairly short period of opportunity for us humans to sort out our relationship to our ecosystem. Increasingly, all our actions need to be considered in this light. I do believe that we are living through a slow motion emergency, one which is speeding up, albeit insensibly, with every passing day.

So it won’t do for us, anymore, to add sustainability thinking into the mix – it must be a clear aim of our clients, or we won’t work with them. We will spend our time only on projects which seek wholeheartedly to embody the best possible sustainability practice

I’m glad to say that we already have three projects in progress that meet this standard – more about them in forthcoming posts.

DGA address and logo