You are what you...teach?

I have to admit this: sometimes I can't believe I teach. Particularly about Architecture. After all, if you scan this blog, it is a rare moment for me to speak about the virtues of the profession. Mostly, my stories are filled with the disappointment, the frustration, the harsh realities that our profession has somehow kept secret.

When I started this blog, I thought I could, through my experiences, shed some light upon certain misconceptions. I thought, perhaps, this blog could help others understand what the education asks, the profession asks, of those who enter. Basically, I hoped I could enlighten people of the things I wish I would have been informed of years ago.

But, as the years passed, I found myself on detours that took me farther away from where I thought I should be. My blog reflected this; looking back on my entries, I now realize that the questions concerning me weren't about what type of professional I might be, but whether or not I should be a part of this profession. And then, I just fell off the face of the earth.

Perhaps, from this short history, you can understand why I find myself rather dumbfounded concerning my current circumstances. I find myself in front of students, encouraging them, challenging them, to imagine the possibilities of not only their work, but their future lives as architecture professionals. And while I am forthright about my own experiences, I never discourage these fresh faces from pursuing their dreams. I find myself, surprisingly, an enabler.

I am both Jekyll and Hyde. I can be incensed about our continually changing certification requirements one second, excited about detailing a stair railing the next. I ponder whether or not I have the stamina to continue on in the profession, but undoubtedly have an opinion on any design you ask me about. I am a dissenter and an advocate.

But, as Jekyll was forced to wonder, which is my true self? Am I one who will, five years from now, be set upon some other task, some other work, which finds me looking at Architecture from afar? Or will I be, as I am now, hard at work, hoping to make something someone will love. Am I the person I see in this blog, or the person I hear speaking to my students? Right now, both seem equally likely. I wonder which will win out.

One track mind

Hi there. It's been a long time (long time). How have you been?

I feel like I need to re-introduce myself, seeing as I've gone MIA. Remember me? I used to post regularly, occasionally making an, I'd like to hope, insightful observation. I may have even been funny from time to time. But, for quite a while, it seems, I've lost my mojo. Maybe that's life. At least, it seems, that has been mine.

My life, however, is beside the point. At least for today. I'm trying to get my groove back, you might say, and finally get down something that has been nagging me for a while.

As I mentioned here, I had the opportunity to find myself back in Studio. Observing the dramatic change in process, particularly the design tools being used, from my collegiate days was...shocking? Unnerving? Inspiring? I'm not sure, exactly. Conflicted. Yeah...maybe that's it.

As the studio progressed, thoughts about this evolution in education stayed at the back of my mind. It gnawed at me more after I read this, which, while interesting, failed to explore what I thought was the most provocative statement of the entire interview:

Prince-Ramus: It’s an architectural education issue. It’s not that I’m not hiring architects. But as someone who teaches and has a practice and has real projects, I see the skill set of people with architectural education as increasingly irrelevant, if not detrimental.

I've tried to understand this statement, reflecting on my students and my approach towards the studio. But I am still not sure what is Mr. Prince-Ramus's ultimate point. Given the context, where his comment follows a contractor who has mentioned hiring more architects for his company, I first took it to mean that architects skills have now made them increasingly production oriented. Thus, rather than leading, we have a generation adept at executing.

When I first began teaching, what struck me most was the time students now spend on a computer. Unless asked to specifically produced something by hand, everything I saw was on a screen, or a printout of something digital. It was jarring, not only because I had been a model guy, but because I found it very difficult to have discussions with the students about their process.

If anything, iterative design was the one thing drilled into me during my own studies. Try one version, then another, compare, contrast, and repeat. But, crucial to all of this, was that you could view versions simultaneously, which allowed you to make decisions based upon the relative strengths and weaknesses that you observed in the comparison.

While the students may have been doing this, it was unclear, as I spoke with them, if it was really happening. I would often have them go back to materials they showed during previous sessions, asking them for sketches or printout that seemed to be already tucked away - out of sight and out of mind. For many of the students, the design process seemed so linear - decisions made considering only direct cause and effect. Address one problem, then move on. Checklist done.

If this is what Mr. Prince-Ramus is referring to in his comments, then I heartily agree. The technological tools my students relied upon seemed to have fostered a certain simplistic attitude towards their design process. If it works on screen, it looks okay in the model, it's fine. Move on. Move down the list of things to address, and once the list is done, the project is good to go. Forget about considering the implications of decisions to things previously decided, or potential pitfalls down the line. At that moment, the decision made sense, and so the decision is made.

But, I have to say, I can't be sure if that is really Mr. Prince-Ramus's take. He has made a certain distinction between what architects are now learning and what he thinks they should be. He condemns this new architectural model that technology, like BIM, has seemed to usher, as well as what traditional model that others often deride architects for having - the "someone will make it work" attitude that many think architects have when designing. So I guess I'd like to know, what is the right way to educate future architects? Because, from where I now stand, it seems like we better figure it out soon.

On the Other Side

Recently I got to sit on the other side. Instead of standing alone against the firing squad of visiting critics, I was, this time, one of those dreaded gunman.

Let’s face it. Our profession is a glutton for punishment. There are few other academic fields that require you to, with frequency, present a concise version of weeks of work, to people who have little to no idea what you’ve been doing. And then, you get to stand while these strangers dissect you, in front of an audience of your peers. It’s a less bloody, but not necessarily less painful, cage fight.

My experience with reviews has been, well, heated and often frustrating. See here and here, for just a couple of examples. Let’s say, looking back, I can see a certain error to my ways. But, at the same time, I defended my work, which I would still do. Maybe I’d do it with less passion and more logic, but can you blame me?

Presentations are tricky, mainly because, the presenter, who is most familiar with the material, presents to a naïve audience. Having spent months with your project, it is easy to forget that your chain of reasoning isn't as logical to others as it is to yourself. Remember, the information the presenter provides is pretty much all that the critics can pull from to understand the designer’s intent. Beyond that, each critic will draw from his or her own knowledge base, references, experiences, to process what they see and hear.

What about that wall of drawings pinned behind you? Well, while drawings might provide enough insight, we, the audience, usually sit about 5- 8 feet away. Plus, we don’t always get the chance to study every line and notation. Then, there’s that whole time thing. We have to look at the drawings fast, process them fast, and dissect them fast. Those are not great odds for perfect comprehension.

So, if you spend 10 minutes taking us your journey of self-discovery, failing to mention the fundamentals of your intent, we critics will be confused. Ignore referring to your drawings, or point out why you programmed your project a certain way, and we, the audience, are going to have to guess. And, this comes from experience. You don’t want critics to guess.

At this past review, some students were well prepared. They did as they should, acting as tour guides, leading us through their project with clear, concise descriptions that balanced intent and basic information. Discussion in those projects could get into more complex issues – relation of execution to concept, material choices, use. Those discussions could focus on weaknesses and provide the student with possible avenues of exploration.

But, some of the presentations - they were rough. There was a student who began defensively, since they wanted insights from a specific critic who was running late. Another spent most of the 10 minutes trying to clearly explain his original intent, but ended up repeating the same thing over and over. In each, the discussion barely got beyond a basic understanding of the designer's words; instead of having a conversation concerning strengths, weakness, material choices or directions, it was spent on basics of why and how.

For the first student, her frustration only made it more difficult, as every question was rebuffed, as though we should have already known the answer. Missing from the discussion could have been the formal translation of the concept, which was odd and seemingly random, or how the programming could have been improved. The student ended upset, and to be honest, as a critic, so was I. Instead of getting critical feedback on the project, the discussion was 10 minutes of getting the basics figured out.

For the other student, without any real information, what could critics do, but hypothesize? Could the circulation move in any direction? Could the floorplan be flipped to the other side? Could the façade be completely open? Did you need doors? How is that empty spaced used? And why do you have empty room in the first place?

Without any real information to pull from, commentary was abstract and vague. As vague as the student’s own design intent. Undoubtedly, the student probably left his crit feeling directionless, but as critics, so were we. Without knowing what the student hoped to achieve, we could only give him ideas of the potentials we saw. Whether those directions fit with the student’s own ideas, we couldn’t tell.

So, in light of the season, with final reviews looming, if any students are reading out there, please, take away this small piece of advice. When you present, consider putting in the time to consider how you present, and not just what you present. You spend hours and hours getting ready. Don’t blow it because you ad-lib, and in ad-libbing, confuse your audience even more than if you hadn’t spoken. Prep a script if necessary, run lines in front of classmates. Whatever you do, remember that you represent your work. You need to do it justice.