Kimball Art Center by Bjarke Ingels Group

From http://www.big.dk/projects/kim/.

My friend Andy Wang, formerly of Curbed San Francisco, pointed me towards this new building in Park City, Utah, by Bjarke Ingels Group (BIG). I thought it was particularly interesting because I have been on this corner and had thought that it was really the only significant gap in the otherwise wonderful urban fabric of Park City.

The Kimball Art Center, Park City, Utah. From http://maps.google.com.

I’m glad, first of all, that they decided to fill this underutilized public space with a building, and second of all, that its a building I think I’m going to like. I should say that I sort of wonder why I like Bjarke Ingels as an architect. A lot of his stuff is the sort of pointy architecture that looks like it wants to hurt you, a la Daniel Libeskind, who I really dislike, or is generally the sort of look-at-me starchitecture you see all over the place. That being said, Ingels stuff has a tectonic quality that I find really interesting, as is especially evident at the Mountain, probably Ingels’ most well-known project.

The Mountain, by BIG. From http://www.big.dk/projects/mtn/.

This works even better when Ingels mixes his designs with natural materials such as brick or wood. One of my favorite buildings is his Maritime Youth House, which is a series of wooden hills on the edge of the sea.

The Maritime Youth House, by BIG. From http://www.big.dk/projects/mar/.

Ingels is also a master of turning architecture into large-scale geometry, which appeals to my mathematical mind. There are many examples of this, but probably best was the Danish pavilion at Shanghai Expo 2010, where he convinced the Danish government to let him borrow the Little Mermaid statue from Copenhagen Harbor.

Expo 2010 Danish Pavilion, by BIG. From http://www.big.dk/projects/xpo/.

This tectonic nature, use of natural materials, and large-scale geometry are all present in the Kimball Art Center, and I really enjoy it. In addition, it actual is quite a good urban design. The base parallels Main Street, continuing the streetwall and presenting its lower gallery on the perpendicular Heber Avenue frontage.

View along Main Street. From http://www.big.dk/projects/kim/.

Meanwhile, the rotated top floor gallery terminates the vista of the east section of Heber Avenue, which hits Main Street at an angle.

The view from Heber Avenue, showing both the lower and upper galleries. From http://www.big.dk/projects/kim/.

The interlocking timbers that make up the facade are both an echo of the traditional wooden cabin construction native to the area, as well as the mining history of Park City. The building, in fact, is essentially the same height as the Silver King Coalition Mine Building that previously occupied this site until it burned down in 1982. Ingels nods to history while lending a contemporary adaptation.

The building isn’t perfect. The Main Street frontage leaves a lot to be desired. On the side farther from the building, one can enjoy the larger move of the large-scale geometry and the windows of the upper gallery, but on the side closest to the building, one would only see a blank wooden wall. The building lacks the scale of architecture elements advocated by Nikos Salingaros. I also worry about flat roofs in areas that have heavy snowfall such as this. There seems to be a structurally sound core to the building that will hold it up, but I do wonder if in twenty years the roof will begin to leak.

Bjarke Ingels’ Kimball Art Center in Park City, Utah, fills a major hole in the urban fabric, respects the history of the city and site, and uses a tectonic feeling, natural materials and large-scale geometry to create a very appealing solution to this site. His architecture is fun without being immature, and I hope he ends up doing more work stateside.

The Concrete Chronicles – Part 1

As some of you who are closer to me may know, or those of you who read this blog consistently, I am a really big fan of Christopher Alexander, and especially of his book A Pattern Language. The book can teach you how to build practically anything, from a country to a doorknob. However, once it gets into the idea of actual construction, it focuses a lot on the use of lightweight concrete, which has about the weight and density of wood, but is many times stronger. In pattern 207 (Good Materials) of A Pattern Language, Alexander encourages the use of concrete “whose densities lie in the range Of 40 to 60 pounds per cubic foot and which develop some 600 to 1000 psi in compression…a range of mixed lightweight aggregates, containing vermiculite, perlite, pumice, and expanded shale in different proportions, can easily generate 40-60 pound, 600 psi concretes anywhere in the world. We have had very good luck with a mix of 1-2-3: cement-kylite-vermiculite.” Since this pattern is so fundamental to the basic construction of nearly anything in A Pattern Language, I decided to experiment with lightweight concrete.

Preparation

The first problem I encountered was that there appears to be no such thing as kylite, one of Alexander’s recommended aggregates. All I could find on the internet were other people quoting Alexander and adds for skylights (Put an “s” on the front and misspell it, you’ll get there). So I went looking around for other lightweight concrete formulas, and found out for the most part that Alexander’s formula still stands if you just replace kylite with sand. I also found that vermiculite and perlite are more or less interchangeable in these formulas, so I wanted to get both so that I could compare their properties. Based on a few different sources, I came up with a recipe of two parts cement, four parts sand, six parts perlite/vermiculite, and three parts water.

Perlite is used as a garden aerator and is actually fairly easy to find at any garden store. Vermiculite, on the other hand, was not so easy to find. According to Home Depot’s website, there are two stores out of the dozen or so in the Philadelphia area that sell vermiculite, neither of which are the ones that are reasonably close/transit accessible. So the next step for me, since my license has expired and I am therefore not legal to drive or use PhillyCarShare, was to find someone willing to drive me to the Upper Darby Home Depot to pick everything up. Eventually Brad Packer from the ward volunteered, and this morning we set out for the store.

At the store, we went and got a 2×4 cut into 30-inch sections with a six inch block left over. We found three cabinet hinges and two clasps. These all would be used to make the concrete form. We then got a bag of sand and a box of cement. I would like to point out that I am quite happy with my purchase of Cement All, partially because they were one of the few manufacturers that sold it in packages that were less than 50 pounds, and they also have a carrying strap and a resealable package, which is great for non-contractors like myself. We headed back to the garden section and…no vermiculite. Apparently Home Depot’s website is full of lies. But they had plenty of perlite, so I grabbed a bag of it and we loaded up the car and took it home.

Assembly

I first cut the last six-inch block into four inch and two inch sections. I then took the four-inch and two of the 30-inch sections and attached them with hinges to the third 30-inch section. This is so that when the concrete is dry, the sides can fold down for easy release. I left the two-inch block unattached so that it can be moved to create sections of different lengths. I put the clasps on the end of the assembly to hold the sides up while the concrete dries.

The concrete form.

By the way, I pretty much did all of this in my kitchen. More on that later.

I then rinsed out a gallon milk jug, quickly made a funnel from a piece of printer paper, and poured my cement and sand into the jug. I then got out a real funnel and added the water, because one of the columns I had read said that it was important to mix the other ingredients first and then add the perlite. Perlite is a really interesting material. It weighs next to nothing and looks like something between corn snow and Styrofoam balls. I added this into the jug, put the lid on, and mixed vigorously for two minutes or so.

My cement mixer.

I started pouring the mixture into the form, and after I got impatient cut the top off the milk jug to speed up the process. The cement came out in thick, heavy globs. The concrete was so thick that it wouldn’t slide down into the form on its own, so I quickly squished my paper funnel into a paper trowel to level it.

This is a real professional job here.

All in all I filled a space about 27 inches long. And then I waited.

Letting the concrete set.

Results

The cement I used was “rapid set,” and was supposed to be set in 15 minutes and cured in an hour (a really exceptionally short time since most concrete can take days or weeks to fully cure). After about three hours, I busted open the form.

See, that's why I put hinges on it. Pretty cool, huh?

I started tapping the concrete with a hammer to loosen it, something that any wood would stand up to, and a section about eight inches broke off at the bottom. This didn’t bode well. I had two tests in mind to examine the density of the material: the nail test and the saw test. In both cases, the material was, if anything, considerably less dense than wood. The nail went in quite easily.

Simple drywall nail in concrete. Sorry for the bad image.

The saw in particular was very telling. My saw is fairly dull, and it took me more effort than I would have wanted to cut the six-inch wood block into two. My saw went through the block like it was cardboard before it split after I got through about two thirds of it.

The broken block. The solid gray part is where it broke without the saw touching it.

It was around this point that I read the warnings on my box of cement which said something along the lines of “do this in a well-ventilated space with a lot of safety gear or else you’ll get cancer,” so I took the remainder of the operation out onto my deck. The main portion of the block was stuck fast to the form, and as I hammered it to get it to come off, it was like hitting a well-built sandcastle. This stuff was nowhere near hard enough to build a house out of. When it finally came off, I took it in one hand and gave it a good solid whack with the hammer. It broke right in half. No two-inch wooden board would break that easily.

What a mess.

Lessons for next time

1. Go outside!
2. I feel that I may have been impatient in only giving it three hours to cure, despite the assurances on the box. Next time I will try giving it a solid 24 hours.
3. Later research into Cement All showed that their product already includes some sand. This could be why the concrete initially came out so globby. I may try replacing the four cups of sand with four more cups of Cement All and see what happens.

That’s all for now, but don’t be surprised to see another edition of The Concrete Chronicles very soon!

Hey, when do we get to build something?

Students of the GDBS with their work. From http://www.uh.edu/gdbs/site_installation.html.

Students at the Gerald D. Hines College of Architecture at the University of Houston have a unique opportunity: the Graduate Design-Build Studio program, where students get the opportunity to create a structure from design through fabrication and all the way to construction. These structures, mostly pavilions or other shade structures, while usually fairly simple, provide the students with an invaluable experience.

These projects start as a fairly basic design studio, where students do research and design schemes to try to solve certain problems of a site.

Students in design studio. From http://www.uh.edu/gdbs/spring_design.html.

The more ambitious designs that architects often create are generally pared down to a more workable design, which is appropriate considering most of the students have little to no construction experience. This is important because it helps designers to understand what building is like beyond the design phase. Architects often have trouble picturing how their designs will work for anyone else. While they try to envision how it will be for users (although there are many that aren’t even willing to let that distract them from their artistic statement), few are terribly concerned about the work of welders, carpenters and masons that go into making the building a reality.

Students, after settling on a design, move on to the fabrication phase.

Student working on the metal parts of the pavilion. From http://www.uh.edu/gdbs/shop_fabrication.html.

Students are given arc welders and circular saws and produce the components of their project themselves. This is where the class moves beyond design and into real-world building. This is honestly something that I wish were more widely available for design students. As the kid whose favorite toys were Legos growing up, I wish that we had more opportunities to actually pick up some tools and get our hand dirty. The students assemble the parts in the warehouse to make sure everything fits, and then it is taken apart again and moved to the site.

Professionals do assist the students in using larger tools such as augers and cement mixers, but the students still survey the area, put up forms, work the concrete, and install the fabricated elements.

Students insalling a concrete bench. From http://www.uh.edu/gdbs/site_installation.html.

This project in particular included more specialized work, as solar panels were installed on the roof and wiring had to run from the structure. In the end, the students get a project that they can look at and know that they were a part of from start to finish.

The final product. From http://www.uh.edu/gdbs/current_project.html.

This is a great experience for the students, and also for the users of the new facility, who are often schools and other institutions in need. I don’t at all question the importance and efficacy of the program, and wish that I personally could participate in something so hands-on. However, I do question whether some of the designs are the most appropriate.

Shade is an important element of the public realm in hot places such as Houston. However, there is more than one way to create shade. In many ways, I think that trees or some other sort of landscape installation may be more appropriate for the Houston climate. These structures, while they provide shade, also create added stormwater runoff, which can be an issue when a large storm or hurricane hits Houston. Such a structure may be more appropriate in nearby San Antonio, which gets much less rain. Trees may not work well in San Antonio, where their water requirements might be burdensome, but in much wetter Houston, they might be a better option than permanent structures. While trees could not work as a site for solar panels, there are plenty of existing structures with flat roofs that would work just as well, and may require less copper, an increasingly expensive construction material.

This is a great program, one that should be considered at other graduate design programs, and leads me to ask, when do we students at Penn get to build something?

WikiHouse: democratizing architecture

Base designs from WikiHouse. From http://wikihouse.cc/.

WikiHouse has had Twitter all abuzz today, and a number of design sites have been writing about it (my favorite so far has been at Protein). Basically, the idea is that WikiHouse will have some basic house forms, like the ones above, that a person can download from their website into Google SketchUp. Here they can be arranged and even modified to fit the housing needs of an individual. From SketchUp, the user can hit a “Make this House” button, and WikiHouse will generate drawings for a CNC cutter. The cutter will cut out essentially large jigsaw pieces of 18 mm plywood, which can be assembled into two-layer section.

Assembling the sections. From http://wikihouse.cc/.

These sections can then be spaced out 600 mm and then joined by connectors,

From http://wikihouse.cc/

which are then overlaid by cladding panels. The final product still needs insulation, cladding, sealing and services, but the basic architecture and framing have been taken care of at just the cost of materials, and fairly cheap materials at that, using no power tools and simple fasteners like wing nuts and screws. Twitter user skytempledesign said, “It’s like buying a house from Ikea, except you don’t have to pay.”

The final product. From http://wikihouse.cc/.

Part of what this does is it successfully puts modern architecture and construction into the hands of end users. Whereas before user-made construction has consisted of huts and shanties, this could provide low-cost, high-quality housing for millions. At the same time, it gives people much more control over the design of their homes. The basic forms have somewhat of an angular, post-modern or deconstructivist feel, but they could be modified to fit any design or style. Along with some basic site planning, these designs could maximize sustainability and allow for any sort of decoration (or lack thereof) that people wish to have on their homes. I hope that something like this will allow builders, DIY enthusaists and hobby architects to take part in design and construction in ways that they haven’t been able to before.

Noain just got a great building, but is it a great city hall?

Noain is a small town, essentially a suburb of Pamplona, Spain. The population was barely over a thousand in 1960, but the next fifty years saw exponential growth, reaching almost eight thousand today. Noain has been all over the architecture blogs because of their new city hall (seen here at ArchDaily and hereat Architizer, to name a few), designed by Zon-e Arqitectos.

From http://www.architizer.com/en_us/projects/view/noain-city-hall/27531/.

The architecture is great, and the urban design, while not superb, could certainly be worse. The question I want to ask is, does this building say “city hall”?

I looked desperately to find the building that this city hall replaced, but I was unable to find anything. Considering fairly recent changes in the administration of the area, it could be possible that the old seat of government rested outside the city, or that it did not exist at all. The situation of the building on the very edge of the developed area of the city also suggests that this was not a demolish-and-replace job, but an entirely new creation.

The urban design that the building is a part of deserves note.

Click to zoom. From http://maps.google.com/.

The city hall sits at the southwest side of a square plaza, with buildings on four sides. The plaza is a bit wide for its buildings (or the buildings are a bit short for the plaza, take your pick), but it’s still fairly nice, even if it feels somewhat empty. The biggest problem with the plaza is that the building to the northwest is way too small, and the large open spaces on either side of it destroy the sense of enclosure for the plaza. On the north side of the city hall is a fairly busy park, and it would be a shame to destroy an amenity like that to complete the square, but at the same time, the plaza is fairly empty while the park thrives. My solution would be to scrap the square, put the park in its place, and build more around the edges. While a street does separate the buildings from the square, it is a fairly narrow and easily traversable street, and parking is relegated to the backs of buildings. Whether intentional or not, the city hall continues a theme of the buildings around the square having a differentiated base and upper stories, accomplished on the older buildings with loggias and on the newer ones by changes in material and building depth. This gives the buildings cohesion despite different materials and architectural styles. With the exception of the squat structure to the northwest, the buildings are of similar scale.

From http://www.archdaily.com/153230/noain-city-hall-zon-e-arquitectos/.

The exterior is made up of two layers. The first, and probably most interesting is a metal grid structure. Alone, this structure works as a brise soleil, shading the structure from high summer sun while allowing lower winter rays to penetrate. What is the more intriguing part of this layer is that flowerpots on the top and bottom of the structure house Virginia Creeper vines, which grow over the structure. The vines are deciduous, so their leaves shade the building from the sun in summer, but after they fall of in winter greater sunlight is allowed into the building. The creeper also ranges in color from green to a deep red, providing visual interest. Its berries also provide food for birds. Although it is beautiful, and probably my favorite element of this building, I have some fears about introducing non-native plants, which have a habit of becoming weeds when their natural predators and competitors are not present. On the roof, solar panels face the south, while a large skylight lets diffuse light into the entire building and also working as a solar chimney to ventilate it.

From http://www.archdaily.com/153230/noain-city-hall-zon-e-arquitectos/.

The second layer is made up of two sub-layers, one of transparent glass and one of a translucent cover that shields most of the building. This translucent layer allows diffuse light to come in throughout the entire building, and turns it into a light-emitting beacon at night. The double layer also provides greater insulation than a single layer of glass alone, making it easier and less energy-intensive to keep the building at a comfortable temperature.

From http://www.archdaily.com/153230/noain-city-hall-zon-e-arquitectos/.

The facade, on all sides, is periodically broken up by large, rectangular overhanging balcony elements. These are colored bright red, providing some much-needed color, and breaking up a facade that, at least from a distance, may otherwise seem somewhat repetitive. Having a weird thing about railings, I’m not wild about the vertical panes of glass with no rail, which a very determined child or clumsy adult might make their way straight through (and as a former janitor I hate because people seem to get their fingerprints all over every conceivable glass surface), but I do see how it makes the elements seem deeper and more connected to both views inside and out.

From http://www.archdaily.com/153230/noain-city-hall-zon-e-arquitectos/.

The central interior feature of the building is an open staircase running through all levels of the building and connecting to corridors on each floor which then connect the offices and meeting rooms. While there are things I dislike about it (railings), I really like this strong, simple and central element that unites the different parts of the building. The interior walls do not reach all the way to the ceiling, which allows light from the outside to further penetrate into the interior. The emphasis on natural light cuts down on the need for electric lighting, while heating and cooling are accomplished by an energy-efficient geothermal system and radiant floor heating and cooling. The climate control and ventilation systems are all synced up on a central computer system that works to optimize both comfort and energy efficiency.

This is, without a doubt, an excellent building. My question though is, is it an excellent city hall? What about this building says government, stability, democracy? Some would say that government transparency is embodied in the design, but I can see few other elements that conjure up the working of government. Part of the reason that classical and neoclassical architecture is so widespread in government buildings is because it conjures up ideas of power, stability, and tradition, which few modern attempts have been able to match. Now, I do not believe at all that all government buildings need to be neoclassical, but I think it is important to investigate what it is about that architectural style that says to people, “democracy.” Is it the association with ancient Greece? Is it the bilateral symmetry? Is it the repeating elements of column and void? Whatever it is, as much as I like this building, I don’t know if it has the elements that label a building as a house of government.

What does the Roundhouse tell us about Philadelphia’s past and future?

Philaphilia is a very unique blog. It reminds one of the old Maddox website, if that site had been devoted to urban issues in Philadelphia. It’s a unique combination of detailed research (often including images from the archives of the city and of Temple University) mixed with language that you would find on the walls of a poorly-maintained junior high bathroom. The “Butt-Fugly Building of the Week” this week is the Roundhouse (a.k.a. Police Administration Building), and the author pulls no punches in explaining what’s wrong with it.

from http://philaphilia.blogspot.com/.

The building’s concrete exterior (which was considered an innovative use of prefabricated materials at the time but now just looks dull and repetitive), the low wall around it, the extensive hardscaping instead of greenery, and the fact that it looks like a pair of handcuffs all lead to this building screaming not so much “law and order” as “police state.” And it is hard to say which one of these was actually the architect’s goal; the building was built in the 1950s as part of a redevelopment scheme for the area around Franklin Square, such a well-known “Skid Row” that Jane Jacobs comments on it extensively in “The Death and Life of Great American Cities.” While they did do a good job of cleaning the problems out of the area, they didn’t really replace it with anything good (Franklin Square, bounded on two sides by freeways, is only able to entice people to it by having a playground, carousel, miniature golf course and small restaurant, something none of the other major squares in Philadelphia need because they are surrounded by a good pedestrian environments). The area, instead of having shops and apartments, has a whole lot of parking, a few single-use office buildings, lots of big roads, and a few public spaces that the public is not terribly fond of (especially the monumental sculpture across 6th from Franklin Square, where I have never witnessed a single solitary soul mounting the steps to get a closer look).

The Roundhouse has not aged well. Some problems were immediately apparent, such as the impracticality of fitting rectangular furniture against circular walls. The building was poorly ventilated and developed mold and mildew problems. The concrete walls made repairing wiring and plumbing difficult. As the concrete has decomposed over the years, holes have developed in the facade, inviting drafts as well as ants and roaches. The police don’t even like the building, and have been trying to find a new headquarters for years.

Although highly praised by the architecture critics of the day and still considered a masterpiece by fans of the Brutalist movement, the majority of the non-architectural crowd is not terribly fond of the building. However, enough people apparently thought high enough of it to get it placed on the city Preservation Alliance’s historic list, making redevelopment difficult. The Market Urbanist has suggested that a facadist course be followed, building two new Muranos on top of the existing handcuffs. This would certainly have its advantages in introducing some much-needed residences into an overwhelmingly office-dominated area. The problem is, this would still preserve some of the current issues, including the impracticality issues discussed on Philaphilia, as well as not addressing the lack of sidewalk frontage or other sort of pedestrian interface. It would still be a single-use building in an area that could really use some restaurants or stores on the ground floor. I think the best thing would be to scrape the whole building and start again with something that comes all the way out to the sidewalk, but with the historic designation, it is unlikely that such a course could be achieved.

Holding Pattern

From http://www.architizer.com/en_us/blog/dyn/24403/field-trip-holding-pattern-by-interboro/.

Interboro Partners have been commissioned to do this wonderful installation at MoMA PS1. But this is more than just a standard architectural installation; Interboro went to the trouble of involving the community and asking what they wanted, creating something that will be an asset to the community even after it is decommissioned.

Background

From http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Firstwardsch.JPG.

PS1, as its name indicates, was the first public school in Long Island City. It operated until 1960, when it was closed due to low attendance. It sat empty until 1976, when Alanna Heiss and the Institute for Art and Urban Resources took it over, converting it into artist studio and exhibition space. Starting in 1998, they created the Young Architects Program, a competition where contestants submitted designs for what had been the playground of the old school. PS1 became associated with MoMA in 2000.

The Installation

From http://www.architizer.com/en_us/blog/dyn/24403/field-trip-holding-pattern-by-interboro/.

What I find most interesting about the installation is the process. Instead of thinking about what they wanted for the space, Interboro asked the local community what they wanted. They went to local schools, senior and daycare centers, and a cabbie unit and asked, “Is there something you need that we could design, use in the courtyard during the summer, and then donate to you when Holding Pattern is deinstalled in the fall?”

From http://www.architizer.com/en_us/blog/dyn/24403/field-trip-holding-pattern-by-interboro/.

The result is a variety of furniture, sports equipment, and plants. Items include “a foosball table for the Jacob A. Riis Neighborhood Settlement House, a ping-pong table for the local cabbie corporation, Checker Management, even a stage that emits a cool mist for the nearby 5Pointz Aerosol Art Center.” Each one is marked to indicate who it will go to when the installation is taken down, and the documentation for the exhibit is posted along its walls. Some local organizations will even host events there.

From http://www.architizer.com/en_us/blog/dyn/24403/field-trip-holding-pattern-by-interboro/.

The installation has a great sense of enclosure because it was already an enclosed playground. The coldness and fortress-like nature of the walls is mitigated to a degree by the documentation on them, and is contrasted by the softness of the trees and light-colored wood furniture. Finally, the streamers create a sense of having a roof, completing the enclosure, while still allowing openness to the sky, as well as a dynamic experience with the wind. This is a beautiful space, and while it won’t be here for long, it will be providing benefits to Long Island City for years.

Penthouses and Rooftop Terrace

From http://www.archdaily.com/142110/penthouses-and-rooftop-terrace-jds-architects/

As interested as I am in the projects that I cover, I usually don’t find them to be something that I would like to live in. That changes with these homes in Copenhagen. Though the units are fairly simple, the amenities are great, and the neighborhood is a sight to see.

From http://www.archdaily.com/142110/penthouses-and-rooftop-terrace-jds-architects/

The penthouses, designed by JDS Architects, are part of a co-op in the high-density neighborhood of Elmegade, Copenhagen. Though fairly standard for contemporary Scandinavian design, these two- to three-bedroom units are spacious, simple, and very light, with wood floors and large windows overlooking Birkegade and the inner courtyard of the block. What makes this project special, however, is what is on top of the penthouses.

From http://www.archdaily.com/142110/penthouses-and-rooftop-terrace-jds-architects/

As seen here, in SketchUp-esque glory, the roof terrace is divided into three zones: a wooden “sun terrace,” a grassy hill with a wooden area and grill below, and an orange-clad, shock-absorbing sports and leisure area. Not pictured on the diagram but evident in the first picture are the viewing platform at the top of the hill and a set of bathrooms at the far end of the sports area.

From http://www.archdaily.com/142110/penthouses-and-rooftop-terrace-jds-architects/

Despite this image bearing a striking resemblance to the cover of Muses “Black Holes and Revelations,” it does a good job of showing how the different zones come together, as well has how they are used. Also, there is an absolutely adorable Scandinavian child playing with a big red ball. I believe each penthouse comes with one of these.

From http://www.archdaily.com/142110/penthouses-and-rooftop-terrace-jds-architects/

If there’s one mundane thing that I get geeked up about when it comes to architecture, it’s railings, something Penn students seem to be unaware of. While the lack of a railing along the steps would probably discourage my grandpa from living there (as well as the temperatures and those beautiful Scandinavian socialists), I think it works for the target group of young families. If kids fall off the steps, they fall into the grass and possibly roll down the hill. If that’s the case, there are railings surrounding any significant drop, including that of the outdoor kitchen, which would protect the child from injury.

From http://www.archdaily.com/142110/penthouses-and-rooftop-terrace-jds-architects/

The view from the roof is spectacular, and although they don’t seem to have any pictures of it, I’m sure the scene from the viewing platform is even more so. If I were able to snag a penthouse like this, I would gladly continue this blog from my rooftop terrace in Copenhagen.

Rijkswaterstaat Head Office

From http://www.archdaily.com/138092/rijkswaterstaat-head-office-24h-architecture/

Quick! What do you think of when you hear this phrase: underwater ghost moose?

From http://www.archdaily.com/138092/rijkswaterstaat-head-office-24h-architecture/

If your answer was “public works,” congratulations, you’re either a Dutch architect or think like them (24H Architecture, to be precise). They designed this building in Assen for Rijkswaterstaat, the Dutch agency in charge of roads and waterways. This building has a lot of things that I really like and a few blaring deficiencies. We’ll start on the outside and work our way in.

From http://www.archdaily.com/138092/rijkswaterstaat-head-office-24h-architecture/

I don’t understand the complete lack of landscaping. I’m not sure if this is supposed to be some sort of pervious, green parking lot (since it appears to be a suburban location without the amenities of a real city), but you would think there would at least be some sod or something, especially on the mound that surrounds the building itself. Maybe it’s just not done, but then that raises the question, why would you send in the photographer when the project isn’t finished?

From http://www.archdaily.com/138092/rijkswaterstaat-head-office-24h-architecture/

The south facade, while brutal even by the architect’s assessment, is very interesting. I feel like it fits for a group that builds roads. The pattern on the side suggests to me a chevron, representing speed, and the alignment and spacing of the windows almost looks like cars and trucks on a busy street. The areas between the chevrons have a very rough surface, and the stated intent of the architect was that these areas would eventually fill in with moss, which would greatly soften the look of this wall.

From http://www.archdaily.com/138092/rijkswaterstaat-head-office-24h-architecture/

The north facade, by contrast, is much softer. Though there is a similar nihilism to the windows, something that Nikos Salingaros would be bothered by, the facade is soft wood, and almost looks like it would be more in place in a Finnishforest than on the side of a Dutch highway. The waving lines in front of the main part of the facade suggest the presence of water, the other main concern for the bureau. I really like the way these two facades work together. While the concrete suggests modernism and strength, the wood suggests softness, nature, and tradition. While I would much rather live in an all wood house than an all concrete one, I think that this building does a good job of taking the best of what concrete has to offer and making it fit comfortably with the wood.

From http://www.archdaily.com/138092/rijkswaterstaat-head-office-24h-architecture/

I like the entrance. First of all, I think its good that they took the time to consider a ramp and integrate it into the design, rather than as an afterthought. I really like the steps that are filled with gravel and hope that they are fully permeable, and don’t just have concrete underneath them, which would frustrate the sustainability goals of the developer.

From http://www.archdaily.com/138092/rijkswaterstaat-head-office-24h-architecture/

On the inside, the space opens up, with group workstations on the north wall and offices on the south, with a large open space in the middle. The wood is continued within, but generally lighter, which is appropriate for an interior. This space shows the different ways that wood can be employed, both as flooring, sheathing and structural elements. In some parts of the interior, the walls are decorated with aquatic or foliage patterns (both in blue, for some reason). The central space is made up of a fairly grand, three-tiered staircase. I will say that I find it attractive, but I wonder about its functionality. Will it have plants on it? Will it be a meeting space? If so, what elements would be necessary to make it safe? Is it just to be left as-is?

From http://www.archdaily.com/138092/rijkswaterstaat-head-office-24h-architecture/

One thing that appears in some places is the interplay between detail surfaces, such as the wood that sheathes a lot of the interior, and the blank, yellow-green surfaces in some part. In some cases, blank spaces play well with the detail found in natural surfaces, such as on the white spaces next to the doors in the picture above, which almost have sort of a space-age feel. But to cover large expanses of wall with a single color and no manner of detailing, it just gets boring. It looks naked. It looks like you meant to put up pictures, but never got around to it. The kitchen in this building looks particularly bare. But who knows, maybe that’s where the motivational posters will go when this place is actually in use.

By the way, I just searched “underwater ghost moose” on Google, and got no results.

The Green Building

I am sorry that I will again have to start a post with apologies. First of all, I want to apologize for taking months to write another blog post. I don’t know how some of my fellow students do it. Although I think that my daily visits to Wimp, Cracked, TED, The Daily Show and others (as well as the obligatory Gmail and Facebook) have something to do with it. I’ve made a decision to try and cut back on my online time wasting, which will hopefully allow for more fruitful pursuits.

Second, I want to apologize to anyone who is coming to this site for reasons other than architecture and urbanism news. I’m continually amazed that my Book of Mormon musical post has generated more traffic than pretty much all my other posts combined, and while I appreciate the visits, I am a little worried about anyone who subscribed expecting commentary on either Mormonism or Broadway, only to get information on streets and buildings. At the same time, some people will get to this blog through Twitter, where I was very active a few months ago in tweeting and retweeting information about uprisings in Libya. While I continue to support the efforts of those fighting for freedom and democracy in that and other nations, this blog is meant to serve another purpose.

With those out of the way, we can move on to discussing a building that caught my eye a few months ago: the Green Building in Louisville, KY, redeveloped by FER Studio.

From http://www.architizer.com/en_us/projects/view/the-green-building/22232/

I’ll be honest. When I first looked at this building, my first instinct was to criticize it. I think a lot of it had to do with this being the first picture I saw of it. I understand that, as architects, the designers wanted you to see the soaring, brightly lit tower, but as an urban designer the first thing I saw was a very large parking lot that opened directly onto what seems to be a pedestrian-oriented street, and this upset me. Luckily, I can safely say that this is the worst thing about the building. Line the parking lot with some hedges or walls, a la Christopher Alexander’s shielded parking from A Pattern Language.

Although the tower wasn’t the first thing I noticed, it is striking and beautiful. The glazing, as well as the slant of the roof, allows for maximum light to get into the building, decreasing the need for artificial light and heating. At the same time, a series of louvers dims the light, so that it is not so overwhelming.

From http://www.architizer.com/en_us/projects/pictures/the-green-building/22232/185869/

Another thing I think is interesting in the choice of photos is that there are very few images of the facade of the building. Architizer has two “dramatic” (ie at crappy angles) images, while FER’s page only has one shot from the other side of the street. While the facade of the building is important, I can see why the architects weren’t too excited about it; they successfully preserved a facade, and while it is a very nice one, it’s only about 1/3 their original work. Architects want to show what they did, and so they focus more on the building’s additions and interior.

I like the part of the facade that FER altered. As I have often mentioned, I am very fond of wood construction, both as a material and as a casting for concrete, which they used here. The wood leaves its grain pattern in the concrete, making it feel more alive and warm. The cafe seating provides a comfortable “3rd place” for the community, and generally makes the commercial use more inviting by providing a place that is outside the building but still within the influence of the store. By setting it back from the facade of the building, it is conceivable that the space could be used to escape the rain on a wet day, and that adventurous diners could still use the space despite the weather.

According to the blurb on Architizer, the building was originally a dry goods store, but has been converted to a cafe and gallery. This is a great example of adaptive reuse, and a reasonable example of historic preservation. I’m no expert, but I’ve been told that a problem with historic preservation in America is that preservationists not only want to preserve the building, but also its use, which in many cases is out of date. By changing the use, and making moderate adjustments to the exterior to allow for new uses, the main facade of the building, as well as its footprint and many of its materials, can be preserved, while serving a new and more appropriate use.

From http://www.architizer.com/en_us/projects/pictures/the-green-building/22232/185876/

What really turned around my opinion of this building was the interior. I love it. I think a big part of that feeling for me is the reuse of the old wood. While using all new members would give the building a slick, right-out-of-the-box look, reusing the old wood and also leaving segments of brick wall exposed give the building a real “lived-in” feel, a sense of history and permanence. At the same time, the new wood on the upper floors, the large window panes and the black aluminum mullions, as well as the contemporary seating, decidedly say that this is a modern building. The openness and height of the rooms allows for the sun from the tower to better penetrate the building white the various balconies and hallways create a variety of unique spaces inside the building that are unavailable in many contemporary office structures.

From http://www.architizer.com/en_us/projects/view/the-green-building/22232/

This place has sustainable features all over it. The solar panels generate 15 kw/hr, which is supplemented by energy from a geothermal system. An underground ice storage system provides unique cooling savings. Although the green roof captures a lot of rain water, any excess is stored in three rain barrels and used for landscaping and irrigation of a small vertical farm which provides produce for the cafe.

Despite a bad initial impression, I was thoroughly impressed by this building. It is a great example for a part of Louisville that is currently undergoing fast improvement, and with a few small tweaks could be even better.