Revisiting 9/11

I wrote this years ago, but as we remember the events of today, 11 years ago, I thought I'd re-post my thoughts.

Monday, September 11, 2006

The Power of a Symbol

Five years ago, today, I sat in class, structures class if I remember correctly, trying to stay awake. After all, it was an 8:30 lecture. The moment class ended, a student stood up and said, simply, “The World Trade Center was just attacked.” It was 9:25 am.

The student walked out without saying another word, and for a moment, I thought it was some weird practical joke. I would find out, five minutes later, eyes riveted to a television set in the department office, that it was not. It’s been said over and over again, the world changed that day. It’s not an exaggeration.

I watched, on television, as the World Trade Center crumbled down, floor by floor, until it was lost in the cloud of its own dust. I remember our academic advisor bursting out into tears, as we stared on in disbelief. I remember walking home, after school officially closed, thinking, how could the weather be so perfect, the day so unbelievably beautiful, when, elsewhere, chaos was erupting.

As we would learn, the targets were specific. The buildings were chosen for the special meanings they embodied. They were symbols, markers. It was meant to be as significant a psychological blow as it was a physical catastrophe.

As we look on, five years later, so much has yet to be done. The wound is still open, the healing not really begun. In the wake of 9/11, a call went out, a challenge made, one which some considered the opportunity for architects to reassert the value of their work. Rebuild on suddenly sacred ground, and create something that respected the past while inspiring the future. It was a wish for remembrance. It was a cry for defiance.

I fear for the success. I feel deflated by the solution. And perhaps, more than anything else, I am disappointed by the process. Politics, egos, personal interests – they dominate the rebuilding process. They are the stories to arise from the rubble of that day.

Three years ago, during a scholarship interview, I was asked the question on everyone’s mind, “What do you think should be done at the World Trade Center site?” A loaded question. I faced four strangers who looked on expectantly.

I told them that what I hoped for. I hoped for a place that would remember the significance of the event while engendering new life, new activity, a new spirit. I hoped that, in the process of reconstruction, disparate parties might unite under a common goal, a vision that could encapsulate the hopes, memories, desires of the expectant millions watching. I told them that the challenge, above anything else, would be reconciling the desires of those who saw the site as a massive graveyard and those who saw the site as an opportunity for massive redevelopment. I told them that any solution would have to successfully address both. That life and death, happiness and sadness, would need to exist, side by side. I told them that I believed architecture had the power to reach such greatness.

I still believe in that greatness. I still believe that architecture can take on such weight, such responsibility. It is the power of a symbol – this ability for concrete objects to illicit abstract emotions. I just don’t know, given the process so far, if the results will ever meet the heavy expectations. Some might say nothing would. And perhaps they are right. But, perhaps, if the process hadn’t been derailed the way it has, there might have been a better chance for success.

More signs of the times

Read this? Yeah, not that encouraging.

The reality of our profession, post-recession, is something we need to seriously consider. What is the value of any degree that leads to unemployment? Should we encourage those in the generations to come to invest their time and money if this is their future?

I was in New York this past weekend for a friend's wedding. Many of my old classmates and colleagues were there, as it was the union of two classmates that we were celebrating. And as I caught up with them, it became more and more obvious that the realities of the article - of architects leaving the profession by choice or not - was becoming the norm. Of my friends, at least half of them were now in "alternative" careers - they were related to design, in some way, but definitely outside Architecture's traditional bounds.

It makes me think, particularly as I teach, if I preach an unobtainable dream. Our profession has increasingly become a commodity,  tied to the whims and instability of fads and economies.We can never be broken from the finances that fund our work; however, without asserting that the value of what we do extends beyond luxury and excess, we will continue to be the first of professions cut when times get tough.

We face uncertain times, that much is clear. This might, however, be the best opportunity for our profession to carefully examine itself, make tough choices, and reinvent itself. If we don't, The statistics of the article will not represent a disconcerting trend, but our profession's future.

Where do we go?

I've pondered it a lot, lately. And, I am not the only one. Head over the Archdaily to check out another perspective on the Future of Architecture.

Making the Rounds

This has been making the rounds amongst architects and their blogs....Something to think about.

Overrated

I hate to say it, but sometimes -well, really, many times - I have agreed with this. Particularly in the past three years or so, as I've existed on the fringes of the professional world. So far, I've eeked by, freelancing, working for a firm on and off, and renovating. I've supplemented this all with some teaching, which at times fuels my idealistic dreams, and at other times, makes me want to warn anyone wishing to follow through that this life, this profession, isn't all it's cracked up to be.

I want to believe that what architects do has value; even on something small, like renovating a house, I believe that we, as architects, can provide insights into space planning and organization that can make something old new again. That is in large part why I tackled the renovation I did. I wanted to show people how a 1950s home could, with thought, have a floor plan that could meet with today's lifestyle. The hope was that, after the blood, sweat and tears, when the house was done, people would come through, appreciate the work, and, well, fall in love.

So far, there has been some love, but not enough. Well, enough for a sale, which is ultimately what I need to move onwards and upwards, as they say. I took a gamble, hoping that people might appreciate attention to detail, unique features and finding a home that meets today's standards within an establish, well-sought after neighborhood. The complaints have left me discouraged. For all the talk of "right-sizing", the negative comments have mostly dealt with a small master bedroom. Granted, it isn't some grand palace like you see on Cribs, with separate sitting areas and room for a trapeze, but the suite we created has a large walk-in closet, room for a queen bed, night stands and a credenza, and a master bath with dual vanities, separate shower and tub and its own toilet room. I mean, couldn't you live with this:

So, despite my hopes, I find an unreceptive audience. And it makes me wonder, as I still see developer homes selling, and the good old McMansions filling the pictures of local home magazines and TV shows. Do Architects provide value? I hope so. Do people value what Architects do? I am not so sure.

9-11 Ten Years Later

It seems surreal. 10 Years ago, today, the world changed as we know it. How we live changed, irreversibly. 10 years later, I, like everyone, can remember that morning with such finite detail. In honor of the memories of those who gave everything, I thought I'd bring back the entry I wrote 5 years ago, today.

Monday, September 11, 2006

The Power of a Symbol

Five years ago, today, I sat in class, structures class if I remember correctly, trying to stay awake. After all, it was an 8:30 lecture. The moment class ended, a student stood up and said, simply, “The World Trade Center was just attacked.” It was 9:25 am.

The student walked out without saying another word, and for a moment, I thought it was some weird practical joke. I would find out, five minutes later, eyes riveted to a television set in the department office, that it was not. It’s been said over and over again, the world changed that day. It’s not an exaggeration.

I watched, on television, as the World Trade Center crumbled down, floor by floor, until it was lost in the cloud of its own dust. I remember our academic advisor bursting out into tears, as we stared on in disbelief. I remember walking home, after school officially closed, thinking, how could the weather be so perfect, the day so unbelievably beautiful, when, elsewhere, chaos was erupting.

As we would learn, the targets were specific. The buildings were chosen for the special meanings they embodied. They were symbols, markers. It was meant to be as significant a psychological blow as it was a physical catastrophe.

As we look on, five years later, so much has yet to be done. The wound is still open, the healing not really begun. In the wake of 9/11, a call went out, a challenge made, one which some considered the opportunity for architects to reassert the value of their work. Rebuild on suddenly sacred ground, and create something that respected the past while inspiring the future. It was a wish for remembrance. It was a cry for defiance.

I fear for the success. I feel deflated by the solution. And perhaps, more than anything else, I am disappointed by the process. Politics, egos, personal interests – they dominate the rebuilding process. They are the stories to arise from the rubble of that day.

Three years ago, during a scholarship interview, I was asked the question on everyone’s mind, “What do you think should be done at the World Trade Center site?” A loaded question. I faced four strangers who looked on expectantly.

I told them that what I hoped for. I hoped for a place that would remember the significance of the event while engendering new life, new activity, a new spirit. I hoped that, in the process of reconstruction, disparate parties might unite under a common goal, a vision that could encapsulate the hopes, memories, desires of the expectant millions watching. I told them that the challenge, above anything else, would be reconciling the desires of those who saw the site as a massive graveyard and those who saw the site as an opportunity for massive redevelopment. I told them that any solution would have to successfully address both. That life and death, happiness and sadness, would need to exist, side by side. I told them that I believed architecture had the power to reach such greatness.

I still believe in that greatness. I still believe that architecture can take on such weight, such responsibility. It is the power of a symbol – this ability for concrete objects to illicit abstract emotions. I just don’t know, given the process so far, if the results will ever meet the heavy expectations. Some might say nothing would. And perhaps they are right. But, perhaps, if the process hadn’t been derailed the way it has, there might have been a better chance for success.

Paid what you're worth...(again)

Nice timing. I talk about free services, and the NYTimes does an update on the On the Cheap series.

From the start, this series bothered me. Mainly because the NYTimes solicited their readers to write in their problems as potential clients and then asked designers to participate by waiving their fees. The readers got beautiful rooms that "fit within their budgets". The professionals participating? Well, supposedly publicity.

The projects required full design services from the professional participating. And, to the credit of those participating, the professionals seemed to take on the projects with zeal. Not just a 5 minute consultation, some sketches, and a sample board. They were on site, arranging furniture, ordering, coordinating, even making items for their respective clients.

Now, I know many firms write off a certain amount under marketing expenses. So, I imagine the professionals who opted in for this series saw it as such. It might be time not paid, but certainly it is magnificent exposure. But, as with any foray into a public forum, not all the articles in the series were flattering.

The professionals, in participating for free, were not only subject to the typical ups and downs of completing a project, they were now doing in under the scrutiny of the NYTimes readership. Everything laid open for others to judge. The problems that might arise between client and professional. Aired for entertainment, framed by the narration of third party. Worth the price? I wonder how many new jobs the participating firms got.

I am glad that the NYTimes included the cost of the design services performed. And the services fees weren't insignificant. Personally, I think it would have been better for the NYTimes to cover those expenses, rather than asking for professionals to donate it. After all, the NYTimes isn't some non-profit organization, publishing for free. They make money off what they write and the subjects they write about.

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.

Cat Fight

Kinda loving this post over at Design Observer. I've had issues with some of Mr. Ouroussoff's articles in the past, but Ms. Lange really takes him to task. If nothing else, she brings up some great points about what an architecture critic should be....