An ANT’s-eye view of architecture.

Bruno Latour and Albena Yaneva, offering an ANT’s-eye view of architecture, point out how problematic it is to see a building as primarily an artefact in Euclidean space. A building has many more dimensions than three:

We should finally be able to picture a building as a navigation through a controversial datascape: as an animated series of projects, successful and failing, as a changing and criss-crossing trajectory of unstable definitions and expertise, of recalcitrant materials and building technologies, of flip-flopping users’ concerns and communities’ appraisals. That is, we should finally be able to picture a building as a moving modulator regulating different intensities of engagement, redirecting users’ attention, mixing and putting people together, concentrating flows of actors and distributing them so as to compose a productive force in time-space.

I think Latour’s criticisms hold true of BIM systems, too. While adding a few more meagre dimensions to the three honoured in traditional descriptive geometry, BIM is even more committed to the idea that a total documentation is possible.

Vertical Ground, Code [9], 2012

This is some kind of Turing test, right? Well I’m not going to be fooled. The project description was clearly generated by a script thats been hoovering up generic project descriptions from eVolo competition entries:

a deployable system that can reconfigure into any environment… a new definition of a campus… proto-design agenda of the Design Research Laboratory… pursuing architectural distinctions and differentiation to have embedded cognitive intelligibility… dividing the tower into groupings of program and open space, core articulation, and by activating open spaces with horizontal connections… distinct hierarchy of spaces and their connections, thus allowing the micro to develop the macro. The spaces connect based upon circulation patterns, room adjacencies and student capacities…

It appears to be a project carried out at the Architectural Association under Patrik Schumacher, who stirred the pot with an op-ed for the Architectural Review complaining about excessively fictional student projects. Is this his idea of an alternative? It doesn’t seem to be any more connected to reality, and has the added demerit of being completely boring.

Hangar 17

Lebbeus Woods:

Hangar 17 at the JFK International Airport in New York City contains some of the strangest objects we might expect to encounter under the description artifacts. Twisted steel beams; battered and burned cars and ambulances; odd personal items bearing the traces of violence; items from a mall once lively with customers but no more—this is the stuff of many possible memorials to the 9/11 terrorist attack on the United States, collected and preserved for that very purpose. The strangest thing is, this hangar, in all its unpretentious modesty may be the best memorial of its kind to the event that will ever be devised.

The images, by Francesc Torres show stacks of branching steel facade columns, merchandise from the WTC shops, business cards and drawings found amid the wreckage, and strange “composites”: disparate matter melted and fused into lumps. More images by Torres for National Geographic here.

Liam Young and the expanded field

Liam Young (of Tomorrow’s Thoughts Today and the Unknown Fields Division) is interviewed by Alexander Philips of URBNFTR:

The infrastructure that drove the development of the city was once large permanent networks of roads, plumbing and park spaces but are now nomadic digital networks, orbiting GPS satellites and cloud computing connections. Cities are being planned around the speed of electrons, satellite sight lines and big data. Connection to wifi is more critical than connection to light. The city must be planned around the mobile phone not the automobile.

Comments by mammoth here, endorsing an “expanded field of practice” for architecture. My question is whether it’s really architecture that needs to expand into a meta-practice, or whether a new, more general field of spatial design would be better. Architecture, as a discipline and a profession, is very heavily freighted with assumptions about what is important in the human environment.

 

Zaera-Polo on dividing politics from economics

Alejandro Zaera-Polo:

The notion that politics and economics can be neatly divided into polis and oikos — either in the sense that the markets should be entirely freed of political intervention or that political action can be effected without careful consideration of economic inputs — is ludicrous.

As I wrote previously, Pier Vittorio Aureli’s distinction between the city and urbanisation, which rests on differentiating polis and oikos, seems absurd to me, too. It’s an intensely contestable and political distinction that Aureli tries to pass off as the very ground of politics.

Sennett on what everyone wants

Richard Sennett:

The cities everyone wants to live in would be clean and safe, possess efficient public services, support a dynamic economy, provide cultural stimulation, and help heal society’s divisions of race and ethnicity and class. These are not the cities we live in (324).

Claiming to know what everyone wants sets off alarm bells in my head, but  is Sennett actually wrong here? Certainly the order he puts these in could be debated, and we could historicise each factor (pointing out how urban hygiene is a particularly nineteenth-century concept, for example); but neither of these make him wrong. 

Brainstorming and Building 20

BRAINSTORMING AND BUILDING 20

Brainstorming doesn’t work, writes Jonah Lehrer:

Keith Sawyer, a psychologist at Washington University, has summarized the science: “Decades of research have consistently shown that brainstorming groups think of far fewer ideas than the same number of people who work alone and later pool their ideas.”

What does work? An intellectually-diverse team of the right people, and a spatial context that encourages interaction and permits modification. Lehrer compares brainstorming with Building 20 at MIT; a cheap, decrepit building which housed a Nuclear Science Lab, the Linguistics department, a machine shop, a particle accelerator, an office for training military reserves, a piano repair facility, a cell-culture lab, an acoustics workshop, an Ice Research lab, and the Tech Model Railroad Club. People were constantly brushing up against the intriguing things other people were doing, and had the ability to remake and shape their own spaces to suit their needs.

Building 20 and brainstorming came into being at almost exactly the same time. In the sixty years since then, if the studies are right, brainstorming has achieved nothing—or, at least, less than would have been achieved by six decades’ worth of brainstormers working quietly on their own. Building 20, though, ranks as one of the most creative environments of all time, a space with an almost uncanny ability to extract the best from people.

The subject / object distinction fails

THE SUBJECT / OBJECT DISTINCTION FAILS

In Reassembling the Social, Latour offers a beautiful satire of theorists who divide the world into subjects and objects:

To get the right feel for ANT, it’s important to notice that this has nothing to do with a ‘reconciliation’ of the famous object/subject dichotomy. To distinguish a priori ‘material’ and ‘social’ ties before linking them together again makes about as much sense as to account for the dynamic of a battle by imagining a group of soldiers and officers stark naked with a huge heap of paraphernalia—tanks, rifles, paperwork, uniforms—and then claim that ‘of course there exist some (dialectical) relation between the two’. One should retort adamantly ‘No!’ There exists no relation whatsoever between ‘the material’ and ‘the social world’, because it is this very division which is a complete artifact. To reject such a divide is not to ‘relate’ the heap of naked soldiers ‘with’ the heap of material stuff: it is to redistribute the whole assemblage from top to bottom and beginning to end. There is no empirical case where the existence of two coherent and homogeneous aggregates, for instance technology ‘and’ society, could make any sense. (2005: 75-6)

The ridiculous picture of a crowd of embarrassed soldiers separated from all their material ‘supports’ is made even funnier, to my mind, by the additional of an earnest scholar in the scene, pointing to the ‘relationship between’ the two heaps. The attempted division fails. How, for example, can the soldiers’ training be separated from their bodies? And it’s a completely hopeless way to understand an actual military engagement, because what matters is not only what is present, but how each element—human or nonhuman—acts in that assemblage. The tactics, reactions, and secondary effects of battle remain completely incomprehensible.

The object/subject dichotomy is a completely synthetic artefact of analysis, and it has no place in urban thinking. A city is not a sprawling mass of houses, asphalt, pipes, grass, signs, wires, food, rats, bacteria, radio transmissions and billboards on the one hand, and a collection of raw human subjects on the other; the two heaps ‘relating’ to one another. Any understanding based on this distinction (and I think particularly of the phenomenological perspective that foregrounds the character of an individual human subject’s experience), is going to be of limited use in designing with the myriad agencies and linkages of an actual city.

Invented scenarios in studio

INVENTED SCENARIOS IN STUDIO

Patrik Schumacher, in The Architectural Review, objects to the recent flourishing of “improbable narratives”, allegories, and dystopias in British schools of architecture:

The (best?) students of the current generation as well as their teachers seem to think that the ordinary life processes of contemporary society are too boring to merit the avant-garde’s attention. Instead we witness the invention of scenarios that are supposedly more interesting than the challenges actually posed by contemporary reality.

He lists examples including an acoustic lyrical mechanism in a Bangalore quarry, a retreat for Echo from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, and a sci-fi movie about rebellious worker robots in Brixton; constrasting these with “systematic research and serious design experiments”. He could have a point—some of these projects might be better if they were confronted with a few more design restrictions. And I have only slight reservations in agreeing with him when he writes:

‘Critical architecture’ commits the fallacy of trying to substitute itself for the political process proper. The result might be a provocation at best, but often ends up as nothing but naive (if not pompous) posturing.

But he goes on to say:

Architects are called upon to develop urban and architectural forms that are congenial to contemporary economic and political life. They are neither legitimised, nor competent to argue for a different politics or to ‘disagree with the consensus of global politics’.

I don’t get this. I think he’s saying that, because architects serve the existing economic and political context, they’re not capable of arguing for a different political situation. But this doesn’t follow at all: a person working within a system may be in the best possible position to criticise or modify it. (The phrase “consensus of global politics” sticks in my throat: no matter how dominant western-style consumer capitalism is, neither it nor any other system deserves the name “global politics”).

Léopold Lambert responds with an open letter:

By affirming that architects are not legitimized, nor competent to argue for a different politics, you are, in fact, calling yourself for a different regime, an aristocratic one, in which experts owning a sacred knowledge have the exclusive legitimacy to debate and rule cities and nations. Architects, to the very same extent of bakers, workers, bankers (sic), waiters, lawyers, unemployed people etc. are absolutely competent and legitimized to  argue for a different politics for the good reason that they are concerned by it as citizens and share with other the res-publica (the public thing).

In the ensuing discussion at The Funambulist, everybody’s pet hates get aired: algae farms, CG animations, parametricism, impracticality, big firms, students who become teachers without working in the industry, topicality, atopicality. See if your favourite makes an appearance.

What interests me most, however, is a particular axis around which the discussion turns: the opposition between the realistic and the fantastic. Neither the idea that bland or offensive reality needs to be made more fantastic, nor that fantastic speculations should be eschewed in favour of concrete reality, give enough credit to the strangeness and complexity of reality.